Two parts, that Blackrandi1958 for some reason decided to punish herself, by editing my lame grammar/spelling tale. My thanks to her and because of changes I made after her editing attempts means ALL and ANY error are MINE and MINE alone
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PART I
Every single unmarried female between 18 and 32 knows me.
No, not my name, but WHO I am.
I am the guy whose calls you will not return, but who you will call on the cold winter night when your car battery died at the mall and you need a jump.
I am the guy you call to fix the leaking toilet on Saturday afternoon before your party I was not invited to.
I am the guy you take to weddings and Christmas Parties because I am polite, make a good impression and your mothers and aunts all like me.
I am the guy after asking you on a date you tell, "Call me Saturday, we'll see," because you hope something better may come along. I am a good back-up plan as I always pay, and treat you well but won't pressure you for sex after.
I am the "Friend", the 'Not-so-bad-you-lose-the-number-friend', but the 'Not-quite-good-enough-to make-an-effort-for-friend'. I am "Invisible" (Well, until you need me).
I was "that" guy all thru school, a solid C student, stable middle class, raised to be polite and kind to others. Never on any sports teams, always working after school because my parents made too much for government programs, but too poor to have anything but Kmart jeans and the budget frames for my eyeglasses.
I was the "nice" guy who opened doors for you and your girlfriends and allowed you to go ahead of me in the lunch line, acts that you never even acknowledged.
You know what they say about where "nice" guys finish? Popular lore says 'last', but it is untrue, we nice guys do not always finish last, we just never get noticed, and nobody would know if we finished last or at all.
Too rich for financial aid, but not smart enough, or athletic enough for a scholarship, I attended community college while working. I grew steadily thru the ranks at work, getting enough responsibility to get the job done, but not the credit as promotions went to the more vocal "visible guys".
Like most of my invisible peers, I moved out at 18, bought a "fixer upper" house and spent most of my time learning about warped floors, moldings, tile and the like.
Was my life lonely? I do not know as it had always been this way. I got a dog from the local rescue, an older Doberman with one ear that would not stand up. Then a local mutt off the street joined us a few months later. Everyone knows no matter how little money and few possessions you own, having a dog makes you rich. When a stray cat took up residence in my house I figured I was now positively wealthy.
Then suddenly something very odd happened. After my 32
nd
birthday, girls started returning my calls. I got not only dates, but overnights. My social calendar went from my left hand to having to actually write down and turn down invitations.
Was I happy? Does the Pope shit in the woods? Is a Bear Catholic? Yes, that is how happy, but confused I was.
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The reason for my newfound "stud-lyness" was given to me by JoAnne, a retired schoolteacher who worked at the convenience store where I got my coffee each morning.
JoAnne was big rawboned, chain-smoking lady who did not give a damn about anyone's option. JoAnne could crack wise with any of the customers from construction workers to truck drivers and had a loyal following at the store. She mainly worked to keep busy after her longtime partner had passed away.
"Eric my boy. You are what is known as a 'Clock Stopper'." JoAnne told me.
I was puzzled. "I have heard of being so ugly your face would stop a clock. Is that what you mean?"
JoAnne exhaled a stream of smoke before continuing. "Nah. I am talking about the young ladies biological clock." JoAnne looked at her cigarette for a second before continuing. "Most every lady knows her biological window for having kids gets REAL dangerous after age 35. "
I interrupted. "JoAnne, that is not really true anymore..."
She waved her hand to both clear the smoke and dismiss my objection. "Yea, yea, yea Eric. It is true odds are better today than back in my time, but the odds still get stacked not in your favor after age 35. So these gals wake up one morning and they are not 22 years old anymore, but 32 years old. Carrying a kid is a year, so they gotta get knocked up by 34 years, if they want just one kid. Add in courtship, finances and most important finding the right guy and already they are out of time, so BAM! You my pal Eric, become the 'Clock Stopper' stud. "
I shook my head. "Lots of single guys out there, much better than me as sperm donor husbands."
JoAnne laughed as she blew another steam of smoke. "Sure, lots and lots of sperm donor losers, not a lot of nice Husband material. Ladies do not want some mamma's boy living in their parent's basement, or a man child who will play video games but who will not help change diapers. These gals quickly take stock of the available talent and find most all the good candidates are gay or already married."
JoAnne paused. "Eric, you see, supposedly we now know the 'Best Age' to get married. When tying the knot at 28 to 32 there's a low risk of divorce, not too young and not all that old. The Goldilocks theory of marriage. The smarter gals got all the bad boy and losers out of their system and locked up all good nice men, like yourself early on. They now have the house, car, 2.5 kids and career."
I laughed. "So basically you are saying at this point in time, after we cancel out gay dudes and married men, I suck the least out of what is left over?"
JoAnne grinned. "When you're young, most of your life proceeds in a linear way. You graduate from high school, then college, then get a job, but real life relationships don't progress as smoothly. So how do you plan for something like marriage and a life partner that is not as straightforward as making deposits into a 401(k) plan or buying health insurance?"
JoAnne flicked an ash. "The smart females know if you want to have a relationship, you do what you need to do. Ditch the loser Bad boys and look for the nice stable good guys. They get out of the nightclubs, get off the couch and go to the cousin's friend's birthday party, because THAT is where you will find REAL men, not boys."
I shook my head. "You can't plot the path of your life ahead of time, as if it were a chart waiting for you to fill in the data points, especially when those life events depend on other people. You can decide to move somewhere by a certain age, sure, or save up a certain amount of money to buy a house or a car months or years in the future, but that is about it."
JoAnne rolled her eyes. "You can decide ahead of time exactly when you will marry, have a child or make a certain amount of money. Sure, there are other people or factors involved: potential partners, fertility fluctuation, employers, and the economy at large. I don't have a new study here to back me up, but in my experience — not as a sociologist or economist, an old adage is still true: 'Chance Favors the Prepared Man', or woman as it is."
She put away her lighter. "Eric, you are being deadline dated. I bet your first dates are asking about your five-year plan or how large a family you want."
I stared at JoAnne. "How did you know?"
JoAnne chuckled. "When her friends are welcoming babies into the world, or they're freezing their eggs, the uncertainty is overwhelming. They may love their life, but they envisioned more. The family piece of that dream for that future, which always seemed like a given, is now a question mark. I recall a lot of this from Lisa Bonos of the Washington Post on just this topic."
I emptied the last of my coffee. "So, I am in the driver's seat?"
JoAnne nodded. "To a larger extent yes, but do not drive off a cliff. Do not sleep with anyone crazier than yourself. Look for a life partner, not just a bed partner. Find a stable gal, someone who will back you up, be the mother of your children. Remember, beauty fades, but a good women will always be a good women."
