SMOKE: Babe Magnets
Originally published: 26 January 2004
Not that I read Hustler, you understand, but the Aussie version of the magazine recently published a guide to "chick magnet" cars - and the BMW Z4 came out tops for being the car most likely to impress gorgeous, discerning women.
I can see that.
Create a lineup of cars containing a Datsun 180Y, a Trabant Politburo, a Ford Anglia and a BMW Z4, and it doesn't take a survey to work out which car the birdies will be hopping into and rightly so.
An old, second-hand Datsun would indicate a bloke who either still stays at home with his Mum, or someone who was looking to purchase a car for R8,000 or less on a tight budget, while a Z4 will tell you that he has a condo in Llandudno, a career in marketing or finance and more cocaine than he knows what to do with.
There is no doubt a small percentage of women who "get" the whole tortured-artist-on-a-shoestring bit, but in my experience the vast majority are looking for someone with no financial worries, confidence and a sense of direction and purpose. A ten-year plan always goes down a treat and is an added bonus.
Women will argue that they are not that shallow - it's the inner beauty that counts - but they're not fooling anybody. It's a romantic notion that is swept away in the face of practicality and while most women don't want to end up with a prat, their fear of being financially unstable and over 30 and childless often wins the day.
Which would explain the phenomenon of absolute tossers who have gorgeous birds on their arms. There are plenty of them around.
Most women I know would far prefer to be seen in the drop-top Beemer - scarf and hair trailing back in the summer breeze as they zip along Chapman's Peak on their way to champagne and beach condos - to huddled and squashed on the torn, fading seats of an old, rusted, low-on-petrol Mini Cooper, as you freewheel your way down every available hill to KFC.
It's not an indictment - most blokes would feel the same way, no doubt.
But back to babe magnets - I'm sure there are plenty of women who don't give a continental rat's arse what some tosser and his flashy car are up to, but just as a fine ass and inviting breasts will lure a man with very few questions asked, so too are there magnets which attract women to men.
The biggest has to be money. Filthy lucre.
My colleague - Grey - performed a little experiment on our dating site. He published his salary as very little and got nary a reply, but the moment he put his salary up to R150,000+ he was literally inundated with women wanting summa that.
After a couple of weeks he reduced his salary again and they vanished into thin air. When he jacked it up again, they came flooding back.
I saw the results for myself and it was quite an eye-opener. I'm not naive enough to think that women don't care about money, but the animalistic urgency with which they flooded Grey indicated a desperation not even I had imagined.
But what of those women who are not financially dependent? They can choose whoever they like, so what do they look for?
Well - money, for starters. No point earning a great salary and having a leech of a boyfriend who sits at home schnarfing it down in front of endless pornos.
You could take a chance on a struggling artist or musician in the hope that their torture bears fruit in terms of romantic requirements, but you'd have to be pretty sure about his commitment to his art.
But what would magnetically attract women? A winning smile? A piercing gaze which sees right through them and into their soul? Gentlemanly conduct? Clean fingernails and strong hands? Intelligence, wit, tight buttocks or sideburns?
Obviously it's a highly personal thing, but I've never known a woman who won't offer a second glance to a feller in a tuxedo, or even just really classy clothing, and there's no doubt that the bloke in the Armani gets the nod over the one in hessian sacks and Checkers packet shoes.
An accent will always do you nicely - a hint of Spanish and they'll be all over you like a bad suit. Throw in some French and there'll be mad gangs of them climbing all over you in a desperate orgy of wanton lust.
Flattery has been known to get men much further than they have any right to and women are complete suckers for it.
There was a notorious womaniser I knew when I was a student and this bloke had the corniest, most trite lines imaginable, like "Your eyes are dark pools in a desert of lust". All the women would slag him off behind his back but shag him rotten if he so much as looked at them.
Ambition is a turn-on, as is confidence, fitness and just a hint of a dark past.
But none of it matters if you're the one in the crap car. The fat geezer in the Z4 wins the day.
All Smoked Out,