Women like jerks

Do I like jerks? Do I like diabetes? Do I like being bludgeoned? Do I like eating waste? Of course, I do not. I have no time for jerks, any more than I have time for shitting my pants.

Granted, there are some charismatic jerks for whom I will necessarily make time. James Spader’s character in Boston Legal, for example, is a prize jerk, and I like him a great deal. But understand: this affection does not transfer to a real world context.

In the real world, I would rapidly tire of James Spader, as I would certainly tire of any condescending shit. People like him, jerks, are ultimately time wasters and should, whenever possible, be permanently removed. Such is my opinion. Meanness on my part? I think not. Case in point: Vince (not his real name) is a distant relation of mine and a giant pig shit. At some point in Vince’s life — his childhood perhaps, I wasn’t there — he decided that he was a cowboy. Somehow, I don’t know how, he got it into his fat head that he is a Colonel. To begin with, this is bullshit because Vince has never been to America, he is not American, I do not even think he is white. So why does he do it? This is like me deciding, “That’s it, I’m going to dress every day like the Sherlock Holmes dog.”* I mean, I am not a dog, I am not from the Victorian era, I have no crime solving ability. So why would I choose this style of dress every day? I mean, I wouldn’t. So this shits me.

So Vince, like the classic jerk that he is, has to come into a room screaming some shit about himself. Last time, I think, it was, “How old do I look? Who looks older — me or my wife?” Well, they’re both fucking ugly, so I didn’t really think it was worth replying. Then, after a silence, he said, “She’s older than me!” What did that even mean? What message was he trying to convey? His wife is older, and so what? He’s still a fat idiot.

Another thing: Vince always has to be running around the barbecue and the spit screaming, “You’re supposed to be doing this!” or “You’re supposed to be cooking the shit out of it!” I don’t know. I just really want him dead.

I mean, obviously, Vince is liked by some women — his mother by default and his wife, for God know what reasons. Apparently she is incredibly old, so maybe her mind is disordered. I don’t know. Like I say, I’m not the Sherlock Holmes dog.

Having said all this, I know that not all women share my hardline on jerks. This is grossly apparent. Samuel (not his real name) is an intelligent and agreeable young man — in no way a jerk. Yet his girlfriend, Emily (not her real name), could not abide him. Apparently, he she found him too loving and devoted, so she made him go to jazzercise**. Why? We think this was a way of avoiding time alone. On another occasion, she made him go to see Lano and Woodly. One: she knew that he hated Lano and Woodly. Two: She organised for him to be seated in another section of the theatre alone. Then, she broke up with him, didn’t tell him and began dating a staff member from Cash Converters. I mean, what is that? Seriously, what is that? Obviously, although I hate jerks, this matter cannot be determined in any widespread sense. Do women like jerks? Well, some. Apparently. It’s a matter of taste.

* It’s a dog with a little vest, hat and a set of prescription glasses. No one else seems to have heard of this dog; it may exist only in my mind.

** Exercise by means of jazz dancing.

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