You find the best ones when you’re not looking for them.

Like when you’re cleaning the house and you find $20 behind the couch. It’s those ones that bring the most pleasure.

It’s also those ones that make you wish you’d spend your winnings wiser. But like my Grandad used to say, a fool and his money are soon part. And like me with these kinds of women, the novelty wears off long before the satisfaction does. Ah you straight women, you do it to me every time.

I met Lizzie after her break up with Brad. Big-Dick-Brad she used to call him. That’s ok, I’m not a man, I don’t have penis envy, I feel sorry for men who can’t please the masses like a fruiterer.  I have so much confidence down there I put Harris Farm to shame. Anyway, she was devastated, and as I happened to be there, I took it upon myself to provide a comforting shoulder. I find women on the verge of melt-down a turn-on. Their defences are down and they’re looking for answers. That’s when they seek the companionship of other women. I met her at a garage sale when she was crying into a box of old Bob Dylan records. I offered her a tissue and told her I had lost my silverware due to flood damage (why else could I be at a garage sale?) and we ended up going for drinks.

“We both have tickets to ‘insert hetero 3-piece indie-rock band’ and I know he’s going but I don’t feel I should forfeit my ticket, come with me wont you? It may even make him jealous.” This is always the first step they take. He’s not going to be jealous, if anything he’s wishing he changed his sheets in his bachelor pad for a 3-way that is only going to make you jealous.

“Ok, sure, I’ll be your plus-one” I say with a wink. The key is to make them feel like you want to date them, these desperate women are looking for flattery anywhere. The truth is, I didn’t want to date Lizzie, god no, far from it, after the 3rd gin and tonic I knew all her faults and was not in the least surprised that B.D.B left her. I had no desire to turn her and make her my own, but there was something about her hopelessness.  Like I said, I like a girl with a weakness.

The following week I was that listening ear, the one with all the great advice, the one who could make her laugh when she was crying. Why was I putting up with all this shit? It’s just the chase isn’t it? But why am I looking forward to this date that isn’t a date? Was in as much denial as she was? As the night grew closer, the game of cat and mouse was harder to define, as I straightened my hair and downed a jumbo glass of wine, I realised I was nervous. Was she the cat?

“If you were a man, you would be exactly what I go for” is usually what happens after the 3rd drink. After the 6th, I’m telling her I don’t understand why she’s not been snapped up and touching her arm when I get up to get her another drink. I know it’s wrong to prey on the fragile but she was looking so damn hot in that dress, and for the first time in a week, she hadn’t mentioned the Big Man. For once I wasn’t laughing at her jokes because I wanted her to feel secure, I wasn’t telling her all the things she wanted to hear post-break-up, I was playing it cool because I wanted her to want me.

In the cab home she leaned her head into my shoulder and whispered into my ear “I want to go home with you”. For all I knew she didn’t want to be alone, but I had that cab spin around so fast there was no time for second thoughts. I pushed her into my apartment elevator and pressed the 12th floor, even though I live on the 3rd. I wanted to kiss her and not give her the chance to back out. She went for it all right and didn’t stop for air until we got back down to the 2nd and into my dark apartment. We hesitated at the hatstand and started pulling clothes off in the hallway. The thing about straight girls is, they’re reluctant to go into the bedroom. They’re scared of the unfamiliar, so I usually opt for the couch- to alleviate the pressure. Lizzie and I didn’t get though all the motions and it certainly wasn’t mind-blowingly- she’ll never go back to men- kind of sex, but for a few brief moments, she could feel strong again, and I could feel weak.

The next morning we sheepishly laughed about it, while drinking our coffee from bowls like cats. She didn’t question the lack of flood damage on the 3rd floor or realise that my apartment had been ransacked by my ex -lover who left me a week ago. That’s the thing about straight women, it’s all about them.