I always get the black widows and femme fatales. You know, the girls who milk men dry before leaving them to wither and die alone as they move to the next poor sucker they can get their scheming claws on? Well guys like me, we always fall for it. If there are chicks who always fall for rough and rugged bastards no matter how hurt they know they’re gonna get, there are also guys who fall for the bitches who make fools of us all. We fall for it everytime. The sad thing is that we know the pool is filled with acid and yet we jump in in delight. Idiotically masochistic.

Now why does Bond always get the girl? See, James Bond always has an answer for everything and he always had the easy women. Or maybe he had the hard-to-get women but he was just that damn good. He never got stood up like what Marie did to me on New Year’s Eve. It turned out that she lit her own fireworks at midnight with an old flame.

We didn’t break-up after that. Of course, she sweet-talked me as she apologized for what happened. When the waterworks came on, I was a goner. But we’re not together anymore. She left me for New Year’s lay the month after. Valentine’s sucked.

This brewskie’s getting to my head a bit… Connery’s charming his way into this French chick’s pants and he’s probably gonna get into them before the film ends. No use watching it now. I’ll just drift off for a while and… just a little rest… …before I fresh…freshen up… … …for la…

Big explosion on the television! Holy fuck it’s 7:00pm. I’m practically swimming in my own saliva and beer. Slob. Quick shower, quick change and maybe I won’t be so late for the date.

I really have no idea what I’m doing. I’m in a cab, stuck in traffic, rushing to fine dinner place to meet a woman who will only be either of two things: A perfectly fine and nice woman that may or may not exactly be attractive; or, it could be the type I fall for.

When I got to the fancy Itallian diner we were meeting at, it was easy to spot her. She was the only one who was alone and the only one who looked half-pissed. Why shouldn’t she? I’m almost an hour late anyway.

I was about to walk in, introduce myself and apologize for being late when I had this crazy thought: Why don’t I do the standing-up for once? I had this feeling that doing it would have given me some infinitesimal measure of revenge against womankind that – on some level – I badly wanted.

I spent at least 10 more minutes outside pondering over the decision to be made. I stared at her intently from outside. She was beautiful in an angelic type of way, with a certain glow that exuded kindness and innocence; but at the same time didn’t express any form of vulnerability. The gleam in her eye and the slight pout she had told me that a slight irritability had set in – surely from me being late – but she kept her poise in spite of it. The waiter approached her, probably to ask if she was ready to order. She managed a quaint smile as she said no.

She has a really nice smile. The type that makes her eyes beam and makes her face light up. I could get used to that smile.

But this is how it always starts. Always. I know how it starts and I know how it ends. I should probably walk away right now and save myself the trouble as well as get some impression of payback.

WWJD. What would James do? Bond. James Bond. Cool and slick James Bond. I thought about it more for a moment. Then I thought of the opposite. That’s what I would do.