The Blonde Theory Page 15

  “I think I’m just meeting the wrong guys,” I retorted quickly. Then I muttered, half under my breath, “Although it’s certainly easier to meet them and keep them interested when I’m acting like a ditz.”

  “Alec has a theory about that!” Jill piped up excitedly, grinning at me and then nudging Alec. He took a thoughtful bite from his finger sandwich while I stared dubiously at him, waiting for whatever his great revelation would be.

  “It’s a theory some of my friends and I came up with a few years back,” Alec began, then hastily added, “before I met Jill, of course.” She smiled, batted her eyes at him and reached over to squeeze his hand. He smiled back at her before refocusing his gaze on me.

  “Guys come up with dating theories, too?” I asked, momentarily trying to envision Alec trying to test something like The Blonde Theory. Hmm, I just couldn’t see it.

  “Well, not quite like you girls do,” he said, rolling his eyes at me. “It was just that one night over drinks, I was talking to some of the other single doctors about something we had all noticed.”

  “And?” I prompted.

  “And it doesn’t have a fancy name like your theory,” Alec said with another smirk. “But I guess you could call it the Star of the Relationship Theory, if you have to have a name for it.”

  “Star of the Relationship?” I repeated. Jill nodded enthusiastically. I guessed she had heard the theory before. I squinted at him and tried to prepare myself to take in whatever it was he had to say.

  “Yes,” Alec confirmed. “It’s the theory that every relationship has to have one ‘star,’ so to speak, and one person who’s willing to step aside and let the other one have the limelight the majority of the time. And most men like to be the one in the limelight.”

  I looked back and forth between Alec and Jill.

  “And in your relationship?” I asked slowly.

  “I’m the star, of course,” Alec answered instantly. Jill hesitated for a split second, then nodded and smiled broadly at me.

  “Meaning...what?” I asked slowly, feeling vaguely offended on Jill’s behalf, even though I wasn’t quite sure what he was saying yet.

  “Meaning that I’m the one who earns the money, makes the big decisions, calls the shots, has the important job,” Alec said smugly. I looked quickly to Jill, expecting her to look angry and offended. After all, wasn’t Alec putting her down a little bit? Dismissing what she brought to the relationship? But she was just smiling tightly at him. I wondered if she was purposely avoiding my gaze.

  “How does this apply to me?” I asked finally, staring down the gloating Alec, who looked very proud of himself.

  “It sums up your problem in a nutshell,” he announced proudly. “See, you have a good job, you make a lot of money, you’re not afraid to make decisions, you can take care of yourself.”

  I paused.

  “So?” I asked after a moment. I was beginning to understand where he was going with this, and I had a tight feeling in my chest as he continued.

  “So,” he continued dramatically. “No one wants to be with you because you’re always going to be the star.”

  “Alec!” Jill chided quickly, shooting me a nervous look. “Harper, he didn’t mean that no one wants to be with you. Right, honey?”

  “No, of course not,” Alec said a little too quickly. I narrowed my eyes at him. “I just mean that it’s harder for you because men know right away that you’re going to be the one wearing the pants in the relationship.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not like that,” I said in frustration. “I don’t boss guys around. I don’t take control in the relationship.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Alec shrugged. “As long as you appear to have it all—great career, good head on your shoulders, lots of money, and so on—you’re going to have problems because guys are going to see you a certain way. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Which is why The Blonde Theory is working!” Jill concluded dramatically. She grinned at me. “Doesn’t it all make sense?”

  I stared at her for a moment, then shifted my gaze back to Alec.

  “So what are you saying?” I asked, trying to ignore the panicky feeling rising in my chest. After all, it wasn’t as if this was news to me. Alec was just putting into words my entire dating experience, basically. But there was just something about hearing someone say it—especially a man—that made me feel a bit ill. “Are you saying that I’ll never find anyone by being myself?”

  “No,” Alec said with a dismissive shrug. “I’m just saying that it will be hard for you. Really hard. Which is why acting like a ditz is such a good idea. You don’t threaten guys right off the bat.”

  “That’s not exactly the way I plan to meet the right guys for the rest of my life,” I muttered.

  “So why are you doing this, then?” Alec asked.

  I looked at him for a moment, suddenly unsure of what to say. Why was I doing this? Was I really learning anything new? After all, I had always known instinctively that it would be easier to date as a ditz, so it wasn’t like I was paving new ground.

  “Just to see,” I said softly.

  “See what?” Alec pressed.

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “To see how things change. To see what it feels like when guys aren’t intimidated by me.”

  “They’re not intimidated,” Alec said, sounding almost defensive. I wondered for a moment why he seemed to be taking this so personally. Was Alec intimidated by me? Was this his way of putting me in my place, so to speak? “They just don’t necessarily like a woman who has it together as much as you do. They know you’ll never need them or respect them the way they want.”

  I glanced at Jill, who was nodding in agreement.

  “See, Harper, I told you it would help to get Alec’s perspective,” she said cheerfully after a moment of silence, apparently choosing to gloss over the tension in the room.

  “Er...yeah,” I said tightly.

  Alec looked at Jill and then back at me, a serious expression on his face. “If you want my advice, Harper, it would be to learn something from this Blonde Theory and act more approachable in the future,” he said almost condescendingly.

  “You’re suggesting I just spend the rest of my life acting like a ditz?” I asked flatly, staring at him.

  “Not the rest of your life.” He shrugged. “But until you find a man.” He chuckled a bit. “No offense, but it’s not like you’re getting any younger.” Just when steam was about to start shooting out of my ears, his pager went off. Saved by the bell! He took it off his belt, where it was clipped, and glanced at it.

  “Work call,” he said tightly. He glanced at Jill. “Sorry, honey. I have to call the hospital. I’ll be back in a second.”

  He stood and strode quickly out of the room. I heard his footsteps disappear down the hall, where he closed to the door to the bedroom. I looked after him for a moment, then shifted my gaze to Jill, who was looking slightly embarrassed.

  “Sorry, Harper,” she said, not quite meeting my gaze. “Some-times he says exactly what’s on his mind, and it doesn’t exactly come out right.”

  “No, I think it came out just the way he intended,” I said drily. I had to admit, he was probably right about a lot of what he’d said. I just didn’t particularly like it. Nor did I like the smarmy, condescending way that the message had been delivered. I didn’t much like the way he’d talked to Jill, either, come to think of it.

  We heard the bedroom door reopen, and in a moment Alec came striding back into the dining room.

  “Sorry, ladies,” he said, leaning down to kiss Jill on the cheek. “That was the hospital. I have to get going. There’s an emergency rhinoplasty I need to do right away.”

  “But you’re off today,” Jill said, looking up at him with a wounded expression on her face. “We were going to meet my aunt and uncle for dinner.”

  “I’m sorry, honey,” he said with a helpless shrug. He reached down to ruffle her hair. She looked moderately appeased,
but still troubled. “Duty calls. We’ll have to reschedule.”

  “Okay,” Jill sighed obediently.

  “Nice to see you again, Harper,” Alec said, turning to me. He reached out a hand and I shook it, thinking how odd it was that he insisted upon this formality with me, like we were two guys in a Wall Street boardroom. “Good luck with your Blonde Theory.”

  “Thanks,” I said drily.

  He grabbed his coat off the hook in the front hallway and disappeared out the front door.

  “He’s always doing that,” Jill exclaimed in frustration the moment the door had closed behind him. She exhaled loudly and shook her head.

  “Doing what?” I asked.

  She waved angrily at the door. “Just disappearing like that,” she said, looking upset. “The days he’s supposedly off, he’s always getting called in. It drives me crazy.”

  “Have you said something to him about it?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “It’s his job. What can he do? It’s no use me getting upset about it.”

  “But you are upset,” I pointed out.

  “No reason to burden him with that,” she said with a shrug, visibly pulling herself together and slipping back into perfect-wife mode. “Besides, he’s off saving people’s lives. Who am I to complain?”

  I paused for a second.

  “Jill, he’s a cosmetic surgeon,” I pointed out. “He’s not really saving people’s lives.”

  She looked at me sharply for a moment: then her face softened. She sighed.

  “I know,” she said. “But he’s doing important work. Making people’s lives better and all that. I understand why he has to go. Anyhow,” she said, visibly switching tracks. She blinked a few times and smiled at me. “I’m glad we have some time alone.”

  “Why?” I asked, concerned. I put down the sandwich I was eating and looked at her closely. Was she going to confess some problem in her marriage that she had thus far been unable to talk about? Personally, I think I would have reached the limit of my patience within the first twenty-four hours of being married to Alec. Maybe she was finally admitting that his constant condescension drove her crazy.

  “Because it will give me the chance to go over The Rules with you,” she said cheerfully. My heart sank. I was hoping that we could finally talk about Alec’s shortcomings. But apparently that was a conversation for another day. Or, knowing Jill, we’d never have the conversation, because she’d be too busy pretending to herself that everything was perfect.

  “What rules?” I asked.

  She looked at me, astonished. “The Rules,” she said. Images of the old-fashioned dating advice book flashed through my head for one horrifying moment until Jill clarified. “My mother’s cardinal rules for dating. They worked for me. I know they’ll help you with The Blonde Theory, too.”

  Oh great. Marianne Peters’s dating rules straight out of the nineteenth century were almost worse than the outdated book. I’d grown up hearing about them and vaguely remembered them from the days when Jill used to babble about them ceaselessly, but I had never paid much attention. I’d always thought they were silly and antiquated. Then again, come to think of it, Jill was the one who had gotten married to the kind of guy she’d always dreamed of while I was stuck acting like a dumb blonde because I’d apparently been unable to date like a normal human being. So maybe there was some merit to the rules after all.

  “Okay,” Jill began dramatically while I reached for another sandwich quarter and looked at her apprehensively. “I know I’ve told you these rules before, but it’s been ages.”

  “At least ten years,” I agreed. I refrained from adding how silly I’d always thought the rules were and tried to keep an open mind. After all, it wasn’t like Jill was trying to get the real me to follow them. I tried to remember that.

  “Right,” she said. “But it seems like you could use a refresher now. For use on all these dates you’re going out on.”

  Jill apparently still believed wholeheartedly in her mother’s rules, which were designed to result in a happily-ever-after marriage to a doctor, lawyer, engineer, or other high-powered, successful businessman. As an only child, Jill had been the sole focus of her mother’s indoctrination efforts, and thus grew up believing in the rules the way other people believed in their religions. In fact, I suspected that Mrs. Peters’s rules were very much like a religion to Jill, and her marriage to a well-established doctor like Alec only solidified their efficacy in her head.

  I, on the other hand, had never believed in “rules” for dating, relating, or anything else. I believed in learning from experience, trusting your gut, and trying to play it smart. I didn’t think there was a one-size-fits-all set of instructions that would land me my Mr. Perfect.

  Then again, Jill had landed the man of her dreams (even if I wouldn’t exactly consider Alec a dreamboat). And I was still conspicuously single. Perhaps I needed to reconsider my aversion. With that in mind, I listened with as much optimism as I could muster, although that was easier said than done.

  “Okay,” she said dramatically, while I concentrated on an egg salad sandwich quarter. She seemed thrilled to have an audience for once. “Let’s start with the most obvious ones. Always let men open doors for you. Never second-guess a man. And of course, don’t sleep with a man or even ask him up to your apartment on your first, second, or third date.”

  “Why not?” I whined, only half kidding. I smiled slyly at her, knowing my words would bug her.

  She rolled her eyes at me.

  “Never babble, and make the man work to find out more about you,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Never be an open book; always remain a mystery.”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard since my new personality is a mystery to me, too,” I said with a smile.

  Jill rolled her eyes at me again. “Always listen attentively,” she continued. “Always stand up straight. Don’t touch him too much, because you appear needy. Always act just a little aloof, so that he feels he has to work to earn your admiration. Never act like you know more than him, though. That can be emasculating.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” I muttered. After all, wasn’t my whole dating history a testament to that? Hmm, maybe I would have benefited from spending more time in the Peters household, listening to Mrs. Peters’s rules. “It’s not like I’ll be acting like I know anything as a dumb blonde anyhow,” I added.

  “Good point,” Jill said thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s one of the reasons this Blonde Theory has been so successful so far. Because it’s based on one of my mother’s cardinal rules.”

  I snorted, then quickly apologized.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I admitted reluctantly, hoping that Jill’s mom, whom I’d always dismissed as somewhat shallow and materialistic, hadn’t been right all along. That would be the ultimate slap in the face—to realize that I’d had all the correct dating advice in front of me at age twelve, and had chosen to ignore it. Oops.

  “Just a few more rules for now,” Jill said. “Make sure to let him know you need him. Not that you need a boyfriend, but that you need him specifically, because his wisdom is so indispensable to your life and you can’t figure things out on your own.”

  I had to laugh at that one. “Is that really how you acted around Alec?”

  Jill shrugged. “Let’s just say he still thinks I don’t know how to change a lightbulb or drive a car with a manual transmission,” she said with a wink.

  “You’re kidding me,” I said. “Six months into your marriage, he still thinks you need him to do things like that for you?”

  She shrugged again. “It makes him feel important,” she said. “Which, by the way, is another one of my mother’s rules. Always let a guy know that you think he’s very, very important.”

  “So basically just stroke his ego,” I said drily. It seemed that most of the guys I’d been out with—even pre–Blonde Theory—had egos that were large enough already. I almost felt like I’d be doing the world a disservice by stroking
them further.

  “Oh yes, and always wear enough makeup,” Jill added.

  I raised an eyebrow. “That’s one of the rules?” I asked dubiously.

  She nodded. “My mom added that one when I was seventeen,” she explained. “She told me then, ‘Guys don’t want to know that you have wrinkles, blemishes, or imperfections of any kind.’ I think she’s right.”

  “So basically, according to your mother’s rules, women should strive to be perfect in every way except that they need men to help them do even simple things,” I recapped.

  She shrugged innocently. “Pretty much.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been trying out The Blonde Theory for the last twenty years,” I said.

  Jill just looked at me. She didn’t have an answer for that.

  Chapter Eleven

  On my cab ride back to the office that afternoon, with Jill’s Rules swirling through my head, I had a new thought about The Blonde Theory. What if it wasn’t really about me anyhow? What if it wasn’t that I actually intimidated guys? What if it was that they were so insecure to begin with, they were scared to date women who were smart enough to potentially see beneath their thin layers of power and prestige?

  I thought about it all the way back to my office and was still deep in thought as I glided past my secretary, Molly, and sat down at my desk. Maybe these men knew deep down that they were complete duds and relied on the stupidest women they could find to build up their egos anyhow. In any case, these realizations weren’t exactly helping me. I was no closer to discovering the secrets of successful dating than I had been a week ago. If anything, I was feeling more discouraged, especially after my little talk with Alec.

  I was just mulling over that thought when Molly burst into my office, looking nervous, her eyes wide behind her thick glasses.

  “Um, Ms. Roberts?” she asked, pushing her short brown hair distractedly behind her ears.

  I cocked an eyebrow at her and tried to relax her with a smile. “Molly,” I said, “I’ve told you a hundred times to call me Harper, not Ms. Roberts.”