On a bad date? Try the insanity defense.
CERTAIN problems have plagued womankind since the first caveman poked his head outside the first cave, met the first cavewoman and dragged her off by the hair as a sign of his affection. Like: What is the most painless way to get rid of would-be Romeos, especially those annoyingly persistent ones? Girls, I have a simple solution. It comes at the cost of some personal pride, but who cares about that when an undesirable guy can be dispatched with such ease?
I arrived at the Nutso Theory on a nightmare of a first date.
I hadn’t thought that we had much in common based on his online profile, but he sent me a rather normal-sounding note, and the next thing I knew, we were on the phone setting up a time and a place to meet.
Thinking it over and following the “honesty is the best policy” maxim, I called to cancel the date and had the following conversation.
Me: You sound like a really nice guy, but I don’t think we’re going to be right for each other, and I don’t want to waste your time or money.
Him: Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
So, a few days later, I walked into the restaurant and immediately realized my instincts had been right, but knowing it was too late to stage a retreat, I sank down into my chair while a sympathetic-looking waiter hovered and poured two tall glasses of cold water.
Sometime after the baba ghanouj and the wine arrived, we started talking about the law. The wine had loosened me up, and I launched into some of my exploits in small claims court, followed by a succession of tales that inadvertently made me seem like a money-obsessed madwoman.
My jowls shook with glee as I recalled my victory over the derelict apartment manager who tried absconding with my security deposit. My eyes welled up with tears of joy as I recounted sending in the marshal to collect on a judgment against the store owner who scavenged my typewriter after I left it in his store for 90 days. My hands trembled as I recounted driving to the courthouse and putting a lien on the derelict apartment manager’s bank account to collect on a judgment.
I was in a tizzy when I finished, pounding my fists on the table.
My date was agape, and his skin took on the hue of dried paste. I tried stopping myself, but it was too late because I was already on a roll.
It was then that the Nutso Theory came to me. If I can get this perfectly nice man who is not my type to think I am abnormal, then he won’t want to ask me out again and I won’t risk hurting his feelings.
I marveled at the brilliance of it all and only prayed that it would work. Sure enough, I never heard from him again.
I have been on the receiving end of this theory, as well, so I know that it does work. There was the time in Chicago when it was so cold that even the pigeons wouldn’t fly around, and I was out with someone who insisted on going out for ice cream. That was the end of him.
Emboldened by the ease with which it worked both ways, I went home and tested the theory online. Using astrology as my guide, I set up “Test Group A” and “Control Group B.” To someone I wasn’t interested in, I would respond, “Thanks, but I am a Libra, and we Librans never did get along with Virgos.” And I never heard back from any of them.
Then I tried the direct approach with Control Group B: the standard “Thank you, but I don’t think we’re going to be a match. Best of luck on your search.” I got answers that were so ugly I had to go lie down.
The beauty of the Nutso Theory is that you don’t reject him -- he rejects you, and you go away a free agent hoping you don’t run into him again at a museum, a gallery opening or some other place where people congregate.