August 25, 2003
Since this promises to be an exceptionally nasty column, I
thought it deserved a preamble by way of explanation.
I am the first to admit that in my day, I’ve run across
quite a few assholes. I’ve even dated a
few of them and apart from circulating a few scathing columns among my closest
friends, I’ve kept my mouth shut, feeling that in most cases discretion is the
better part of valour.
There are times, however, when the spirit of righteousness
wells up within me and I am compelled to take up my pen.
This is just such a time.
Following the breakup of her most recent serious
relationship and while on the rebound, a good friend of mine became involved in
an ill-advised liaison with a man who (unbeknownst to her) videotaped their
intimate encounters and posted them on the internet.
Although I have urged her to begin both criminal and civil
proceedings against him, litigation takes time. While it is true that revenge is a dish best served cold, there
is a lot to be said for returning the favour and humiliating the cad in front
of an internet audience. As I’ve been
privy to the affair since its inception, I figure I’m just the girl to recount
its sad history.
So let’s get to it.
It is often said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder
and that love is blind. Having
succumbed to these clichés on several occasions (see previous columns on
“frightening howlers I’ve dated”), I am not generally one to judge on the basis
of appearance alone.
There are exceptions, of course.
My friend Caroline is a beautiful, accomplished,
intelligent and funny person – with hideous taste in men. Her particular failing is not, as mine has
been in the past, in preferring men who look like losers in a shovel fight –
she picks the gorgeous assholes who treat her like dirt.
Caroline suffers from low self-esteem arising from a
variety of causes – most recently, her humiliating breakup with a guy she had
been dating for 18 months. An expose of
her ex’s behaviour would take a whole other column and maybe one day I’ll get
around to writing it. Suffice to say
that he treated her in an appalling manner and she has been picking up the
shards of her ego ever since.
She vowed then to avoid good-looking men, in the belief
that the ugly ones would be “more grateful”.
I could have told her that she was wrong, but even I could not guess at
the extent of her error.
She met her new swain at a bar (red flag #1) while she was
drunk (red flag #2) and found his come-on line (“show us your tits”) to be
charming. (I would have given him a
shot to the luggage for that one, but Caroline is remarkably tolerant).
Following their first intimate evening together, she phoned
me up all aflutter. “You have to meet
Jason”, she enthused. “I just know you’ll love him.” Having been down this road
with Caroline before, I doubted it. I
kept putting it off, hoping that the attraction would wear itself out once she
came to her senses.
From the start, she showed signs of dissatisfaction. “Well, he’s not perfect,” she admitted
candidly. “He never lifts the seat, no
matter how many times I remind him and we had a huge fight because he refused
to wear a condom at first. And he’s
kind of hairy. He’s not especially
well-hung either, but what the hell, nobody’s perfect and he gives great
backrubs.” I recognized the hollow sound of rationalization in her voice.
The little she told me only strengthened my resolve to
avoid meeting this charmer. I
considered some of his comments grounds for justifiable homicide and I didn’t
think I had the stomach to make nice with a guy who in all likelihood was a
Having been burned in the past by giving this woman honest
advice, I’d resolved just to keep my mouth shut and let this current fiasco run
its course. In these situations (where
your friend knows damn well that the guy is a loser but can’t admit it out
loud), the truth is rarely met with gratitude.
Reports from mutual friends who had made his acquaintance only deepened
my suspicion that this asshole was a troll of the first water.
Every time she brought up her new beau, I’d change the
subject. This cowardly course of action
seemed to be succeeding – until the last time I met her for coffee.
“Let’s get a table in the back”, she hissed at me. “I’ve got something to show you.” She took her digital camera out of her
purse. “Here he is,” she said.
With a trembling hand and faltering courage, I took the
camera from her and steeled myself to look.
The new love of Caroline’s life was no more than 5’6” tall
and had a hairline receding so quickly that it was almost audible. He was living proof of the accuracy of the
Darwinian theory of evolution, though to describe his features as simian would
be an affront to lower primates everywhere.
I found it incredible that he could excite lust in any woman other than
“Check this out”, she said slyly, leaning over to advance
the frame. “I took it last night. What
As the grisly image registered, I could only echo her
“What……?” I croaked hoarsely, “An animal??”
Stark naked and leering, Jason reclined on her bed. Or, to be more accurate, he hovered several
inches above it, afloat on a luxurious body afro so lush and extensive that as
far as I could tell, the only parts of his body bereft of hair were his
gleaming bald head, his eyeballs and the soles of his feet. (He wasn’t smiling so I can’t be sure about
He was so liberally blanketed in glossy black fur that had
he frequented these parts 200 years ago, he would have been in danger of being
killed for his pelt. Even these days,
he’d be wise to avoid known trap lines when winter camping. The abundant ringlets springing from his
ears suggested that trapped within his skull was a Lilliputian Rapunzel bent on
escape. A glimpse at the cascade of
tresses flowing from his nose led me to believe that she was exploring
alternate points of egress.
As I struggled for words, Caroline prattled on. “For our first date, we went to the zoo with
his family,” she confided, and went on to describe the day. After introductions
were made, Jason’s family had wandered off – to no doubt pass a pleasant
afternoon swinging contentedly from the trees among their kin in the Primate
I forced myself to take another look at the horrifying image. With that much body hair, I concluded that
personal grooming would be a Sisyphean task – I was sure that he only achieved
it thanks to the diligent attentions of an army of tireless cats working in
round the clock shifts.
As my eyes were drawn inexorably lower, her earlier
criticisms of him suddenly made sense.
Although repelled by the sight of the rest of his body, it was his
microscopic member that provoked my pity.
No wonder he didn’t like condoms: the only sheathes that could ever have fit are those designed to
be drawn up over wounds on fingers. Given his pitiful endowment, he’d be more
likely to infect her with West Nile Virus than with any sexually transmitted
disease. I was not surprised that he constantly fouled Caroline’s toilet seat –
the only way he could possibly have hit the bowl would be to straddle it with
his belly pressed up against the tank.
A few drops of urine on the toilet would have represented a triumph for
a man more accustomed to pissing on his own toes, so sprinkling the seat was
probably a point of honour.
“So?” she said.
“Remind you of anything?”
Well, yeah – a little, bald Yeti with a button in his lap,
but I wasn’t about to say it out loud.
Caroline looked at me expectantly as I simultaneously
fought to control my nausea and overcome my revulsion.
“Uh, he sure is something,” I said, striking a balance
between complete honesty and tact.
This seemed to satisfy her and we soon moved on,
thankfully, to other topics.
About two weeks later, I got a tearful call from her. She had discovered Jason’s treachery and had
immediately dumped him. I told her to
come right over.
She was frantic with humiliation at first, but at least the
scales had fallen from her eyes.
Many women will publicly state that size is unimportant. This ridiculous fiction is never repeated in
private. The reality is that women,
like nature, abhor a vacuum. Caroline
remains bitter about his truncated manhood.
“God, I wasn’t asking for freak of nature dimensions, but
big enough to touch the sides would have been nice.”
Despite her vows to remain celibate for the rest of her
life, I’m sure Caroline will recover. I
tried to persuade her, as gently as I could, not to select her next partner
from the denizens of dark bars. Time
will tell if I succeeded.
Till next time,