There’s a short brunette with dimples, and we catch eyes. I go for short brunettes with dimples all the time. Short, dimpled brunettes rule. Yet her polished, frosted-blonde friend, clutching a Manhattan, calls to me. I like everything about the brunette, but I ask the blonde out.
A week later, I’m at dinner with Frosted. Turns out, she’s casually racist.
I’ve got this close female friend who always asks me why the hell I chose to approach one girl over another girl, when one is clearly better for me in every way and probably wouldn’t deny the Holocaust before she got her entree.
It’s a valid question: All things being equal, why do guys choose one woman over another? Read more …