The Aser Stories 04: The Wrong Question

"Why don't men like me?"

Females who want to be dated but aren't fall into two categories. There are the unattractive females who have not decided, or will not decide to change their appearances or habits to appear attractive. And there are the females who may or may not be physically attractive, but whose personalities leave a great deal to be desired, including their consideration of what does and does not include "Men."

Attractive is, first off, as attractive does. Do you burnish your armor? Do you brush your teeth? If you are a scary-looking person as a matter of course, can you bring yourself to show your vulnerable side? (By the way, that does not include mooning, flashing, or pulling up your weskit.)

For instance, there was this giant, Svenhilde, who had a hard time finding male companionship until she left the sword at home (kept the dagger, of course), put on a push-up bustier with metal plates, plucked her eyebrows, and stopped picking guys up by the back of their pants. Instead she took dance lessons, and now has these 'tango dates' all the time.

On the other hand, there's the reasonably pretty girl they call 'Greta the Gallstone' who hangs around the market eateries, waiting for some unsuspecting victim to sit down near her and starts telling him (or her) about the misfunction of various parts of her internal anatomy, a subject that almost always falls under the heading of MORE THAN I WANTED TO KNOW. Not attractive. No dates. Run screaming.

Some women who are not as so-called physically attractive as the commercially-shaped girls in the Orc's Illustrated annual swimsuit edition or the Victoria's Udder Disclosure publications refuse to make any effort at all to improve themselves, content to moan about their lack of male companionship and vow that all males are swine and should be eaten by dragons, at least until Fiveday night looms, like the Fart sisters. A greasier, smellier batch of trolls you never will see, and they just sit on their porch and slurp moonshine and carp about life passing them by.

And then we have the question of what some females consider "Men." Does she think that "Men" are always handsome? Rich? Important? Have lots of magic weapons and groovy powers? If you're looking for the powerful gorgeous knight in platinum armor with the magnificent steed and the spectacular .... hm, well, let's not go there ... you are going to spend a significant part of your life standing at the bus stop by yourself.

If dating is that important, however, why not go out with one of the Lizardmen -- do take a stout cudgel, of course. And the Three Dwarves Inn owners and operators Svartheim, Svarthelm, and Svarthund say that they will consider any reasonable application for a night of alleged gratification with any of them. I strongly suggest a tango class instead.

Improve yourself. Comb your hair. Smile. Look about you and walk as though you were someone who knows an important secret. And here's the secret: life is good and rewarding even if you don't date. Forget the village matchmaker's moaning about how you are losing ground day by day without a beau. If that old squarebritches knew everything about relationships, she'd have something better to do than bug you.

Take on an apprenticeship in cloth weaving, or wine-making, or herblore. Many improvements to self and life begin by opening doors in the mind. For instance, the best poisoners are almost always single, yet sought after, and claim that job satisfaction is what keeps them happy day to day.

This whole issue came up just at sundown, when I had stopped at the tavern for my regular Twosday night beer. A batch of ditzy elves were finishing up their pineapple margaritas, and Chiernavan was picking at her bra strap with her long silver fingernails and flipping her hair about. An over-baked blond strand floated through the air and landed in my beer just about the time she stridently asked her skinny friends, "Why don't men like me?"

I pushed my contaminated beer away and answered her question. "NOBODY likes you, Chiernavan. You're a whining, conceited, self-important twit and you dress like you never looked in a mirror."

Which is why I am spending the night in a tree hiding from drunken elves. Good thing they were all wearing high heels. Maybe now would be an auspicious time to make that pilgrimage to the mountains for a couple months ...