Bats is Not a Playa (Shocking News, Eh?)

I have been meaning to reply to this comment on an earlier blog post, from my dear friend AJFBS, for a while now. I'm trying to keep myself occupied at my parents' place in suburban Long Island, so here goes. First, the comment:

<evil nasty comment>

To quote one Bats Blogger a bit ago:

"...more importantly, whenever an attractive woman that I don't know approaches and starts talking to me, part of my brain immediately responds, "Yes, yes, you're pretty. Thanks... and good for you. Now, what are you trying to get out of me?" I guess it is that I know that I'm not a player in whatever game they're playing, and don't want to be bothered/suckered with it..."

1) Would this still be true if she had just fixed something with the Leatherman she pulled out of her pocket? And/or had a southern accent? Tool belt?

2) Maybe her "game" is more along the lines of "I'm sick of these pretty boys, and I just overheard this guy say something funny; I think I'll say 'hi'."

3) ...and where would my current roomie be if he had that attitude 2+ (yikes!) years ago?

Just wondering if you'd interact with these intelligent & attractive women if you'd met them at a party instead...

</evil nasty comment >

I guess that what I wrote is a vast oversimplification—-my behavior is not as absolute as I presented it above. My response is a gradation—-it varies depending on the type of attractive woman I am talking to. At one extreme, my warning bells go off strongest and fastest for stereotypical "I'm hot and I know it" women, who are stylish and fashion conscious in a very mainstream manner. On the other hand, I would be much more likely to talk to funky/intellectual/offbeat/Leatherman wielding women—-I'd tend to believe that they are "within my tribe." But often, unfortunately, I typically harbor some degree of background suspicion: "You're cute, and you're talking to me. Why?"

A reason why my defenses are up were described in a New York Times article ("Gimme an Rx! Cheerleaders Pep Up Drug Sales") that prompted me to write this post.

According to the article, many cheerleaders end up with careers in pharmaceutical sales: "Anyone who has seen the parade of sales representatives through a doctor's waiting room has probably noticed that they are frequently female and invariably good looking. Less recognized is the fact that a good many are recruited from the cheerleading ranks. Known for their athleticism, postage-stamp skirts and persuasive enthusiasm, cheerleaders have many qualities the drug industry looks for in its sales force."

The techniques they use are exactly what bother me--I realize that I am probably vulnerable to this exploitation:

... women have an advantage with male doctors, according to Jamie Reidy, a drug representative who was fired by Eli Lilly this year after writing a book lampooning the industry, "Hard Sell: The Evolution of a Viagra Salesman."

In an interview, Mr. Reidy remembered a sales call with the "all-time most attractive, coolest woman in the history of drug repdom." At first, he said, the doctor "gave ten reasons not to use one of our drugs." But, Mr. Reidy added: "She gave a little hair toss and a tug on his sleeve and said, 'Come on, doctor, I need the scrips.' He said, 'O.K., how do I dose that thing?' I could never reach out and touch a female physician that way."

This is not meant to say that the gender roles are not sometimes reversed—-it's obvious that is the case sometimes. My point is, rather, that I have realized I am "not a player in whatever game they're playing," as I've stated before. And as a result, any "playing along" I do is equivalent to "being a sucker."

So yes: to some degree, I have my defenses up constantly. I'm not saying that this is a good thing; it is an evolved survival pathology. Negative and self-defeating? Yes. Quite rational given my history? Yes, again. Also, it doesn't help that my two very close friends both had disastrous first marriages to women who were basically looking for financial stability, and then proceeded to betray my two friends.

I have developed a litmus test that I constantly use to vet my own behavior: would I do the same thing for a male friend/coworker/fellow passenger/etc.? I will immediately help a grandmotherly lady put her roller bag in the overhead compartment, while I would question my motives for helping an attractive twenty or thirtysomething woman (typical scenario: see her struggling with monster roller bag, roll my eyes, mentally kick myself, and help her anyway).

My closest female friends have typically been girlfriends of my fraternity brothers (yes, exceptions for AJFBS and JMD). I think that I have a certain level of ease with lovely, smart women who are unavailable: I'm not burning up mental clock cycles running defenses and behavior filters on what I'm doing.

So A—does this answer your questions?