The Wrath of Venus

Last Saturday I was on the train into central London on my way to meet a friend. The train was busy but not excessively so; there was the odd free seat, some of which had turned into some kind of newspaper orgy spot, but there was still plenty of space to stand. So I’m on the end of one of the 5-seater rows next to one of the aforementioned tabloid “romps” (thus securing myself an arm rest and reading material) and across from me are a couple (probably both late 20s). A stop later, a mixed group of about 10 people get onto the train and are standing near the couple; they’re quite merry and as the train starts to set-off it jolts, sending the high-heeled members of the group stumbling over. One in particular is floor bound when the guy in the couple reaches out and grabs her to stop her hitting the deck. Flustered but grateful, the girl gets helped to her feet and thanks the man profusely and they exchange a few chuckles (I struggle to remember what exactly was said as I hadn’t stopped laughing by this point). Still grinning and obviously quite proud with himself, the man turns back to share the joke with his girlfriend... and is met by the mother of all evils. Words cannot describe the contempt contained in this stare; like if Darth Vader had just returned from a blind date with Kerry Katona only to find the Death Star had been towed and he’d forgotten his Oyster card.

Unfortunately I had to get off at the next stop but lord knows how that evening progressed. Having done something quite chivalrous for a stranger, one man was left dealing with an irate girlfriend (see Praying Mantis). The astonishing thing is that this happens to guys everywhere, in fact every 4 seconds a guy is judged by a woman (though the same woman is often imagined topless in this time). And frankly it’s not fair. This phenomenon is not just restricted to men receiving grief from their partners, it can often come from the person you are actually HELPING (as I found out a year ago...). Let me set the scene...

It’s your standard student night out (Wednesday to be exact) and it’s 1am - so about the time that people are hitting the strong stuff to push them through (and beyond) the social awareness barrier just in time for the Baywatch theme (scheduled for 1:43am). Basically the bar is packed. Having been here far too often I know the weak points of the bar so I get myself a decent spot as bar staff go back and forth serving people, in an order which is still yet to be determined. When I get to the bar I notice there is a brunette girl standing relatively near to me who appears to be losing it as people around her are getting served while she is being constantly ignored. I take pity on her and 10 minutes later one of the bar staff comes up to me asking what I want. Seeing my chance to put myself in contention for Mr Nice Bar-Guy 2007 (thus pitting my wits against guy-who-held-back-girl’s-hair-when-she-was-throwing-up-so-that-she-perhaps-would-maybe-touch-him-one-day) I proudly announce;

“Sorry mate but I think she was here before me...”

Her face breaks into a reluctant smile and she gives the barman her request and then turns to me and offers a,

“Thanks.”

Knowing that the barman would be a couple of minutes with her drink I figured I’d indulge in some light conversation;

“Yeah I hate it when that happens. I’m tempted to invest in a big neon sign to bring out...”

She then smiles, turns to me and says...

“I’m sorry I’ve got a boyfriend.”

........

I actually waited for a good minute in case she followed up with, “... and he’s selling HIS neon sign; £50 or nearest offer.”

Needless to say it didn’t come, and she paid for her drinks and walked past me, in a way that gave me the impression that she thought I might mount her. I did a nice thing for this girl, who was clearly peeved off at the fact that the bar staff were constantly ignoring her, and yet it’s more or less thrown in my face. This feeling of frustration was compounded when the barman went on to serve someone else next...

IS it really the case that we, of the XY clan, are the manic sex-craving douche-bags that our female counterparts take us for? Don’t get me wrong we’ve all been on enough nights out to realise that there are some guys who will dry hump anything their crotch bounces off of (a manoeuvre not just reserved for women, male friends in the vicinity will also suffice). I’m just glad I didn’t ask for her name, I’ve heard mace stings.

Sometimes words don’t even have to be spoken in order to bear the brunt of a blind rejection; a few years ago in a pretentious club far, far away a group of about 10 of us were waiting at the bar for a mate of ours to join us. He spotted us from the other side of the dance floor and made his way through the slow-dancing minors. Right on the edge of the dance floor there was a pillar which meant he would have to squeeze past a group of girls trying to perfect the latest dance move (I want to say the Cha Cha Slide). He politely excused himself through the majority of them and as he put his arm on the shoulder of the girl closest to the edge to ebb past her, she turned around and gave a smug, over-pampered glare and sniggered,

“Look yeah I’ve got a boyfriend.”

To which he replied;

“That’s nice; I’m just trying to get past to see my friends. (Points her in our direction. We wave, she cringes) Say hello to your boyfriend for me!”

Is it an egotistical thing? Are there girls out there who really feel that they are so desirable that every guy who approaches them every day just wants to get into their unmentionables? Probably, yes.

If we look back at the train debacle, the girlfriend clearly holds the man in high regard as she decided to go out with him; she trusts him, she thinks he’s not a tool and is attracted to him on a few levels. Helping the girl who was in the process of losing a tooth should surely highlight the fact that this guy has some sort of decency and his split second instinct was to help rather than to contemplate helping. Commendable, surely?

It could’ve been the case that she thought the girl was making moves on her man after he saved her; it’s not unknown that the majority of women hate a large majority of women. Reasons can range from anything such as similar shopping habits, to the general “skankiness” of a fellow female. With so much distrust flying about inter/intra-sexes one thing is always sure; men cannot be trusted.

We can’t help it; women will forever think the worst of us- whether it’s holding a door open for them, or subsequently following them in (for the record, I thought the changing rooms were unisex and I hate wearing ill-fitting scarves).