Ask Him: Where Are All the Good Men?

"Why is it most good looking, remotely successful guys in the this town think they are in L.A. and act like a ass on a consistant basis? Is the pool of a well-rounded guys so void in Cincy that the few there are milk it for all it's worth?"
-Sarah, Westwood

I can't count how many times I've heard this one, or something similar: "There just aren't any good guys out there," "All of the good ones are taken," or "please stop calling me, you psycho." OK, maybe not the last one. Not recently, anyway.

Did it ever occur to people that, if you're constantly meeting the wrong people, you just might be looking in all the wrong places? "You know, it's the funniest thing. Every weekend, when I wear the tightest, most revealing outfit in my wardrobe, and head out to the clubs looking for the man of my dreams, only oversexed man-children seem to hit on me. I can't figure it out!" Hmmm.. Need I explain that one?

Unfortunately, we men are but simple creatures. Although we may be highly intelligent and fairly evolved beings, there's just something about women in a bar/club-type atmosphere that drops us back a few links down the evolutionary chain – somewhere just below marmets, and a notch or two above pond scum. I can't explain it. It's like there's some invisible bouncer sitting at the door of every club, that require most men to check their tact and dignity at the door before entering.

I know it sounds cliché, but it seems that I've met the best people when I was least expecting it. I might have even met a few of them at clubs or bars – but it certainly wasn't when I was trying to. Maybe that's the problem. Most people are just trying too hard.

And as good-looking as that guy might be who just pulled up to the club in a Ferrari, keep this in mind: a good-looking guy in a Ferrari probably isn't pulling up to a club in Cincinnati to meet someone for a stimulating intellectual conversation. Ever been in a Ferrari? They are way too small for brains that big. Personally, I believe that Ferraris (or any small exotic sports car, for that matter) were designed to attract incredibly beautiful women, and get them back to your place as fast as humanly possible. I hear that hats or t-shirts that say "ask me about my billions" are sometimes also equally attractive, provided the person actually does have billions, and doesn't live at home with mommy and daddy any more. Unless, of course, "home" is a palace in Europe, and "mommy" and "daddy" happen to be members of some royal family. But I digress…

Not happy with the caliber of men you're attracting? Try doing some thing different. Get involved in different social settings. Find a hobby. Join a group or a club. And make it something you might like to do, or have always wanted to learn more about. That way, even if you don't meet someone right away, you still get something out of the experience – something more beneficial than a hangover, assorted napkins full of numbers you would never, ever call and a wardrobe full of smoky clothes (if you're hitting the clubs outside of Ohio, anyway.)

In short, to attract the kind of man you think you deserve, be the type of woman you think he'd like you to be. Which, in most cases, is yourself.