Some fifteen years ago there was this book put out by a couple of bitter women called The Rules: Time-Tested Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right. Men all over the civilized world, within the tenth of a second they took to analyze the phenomenon, had exactly the same thought: This shit would send me running away screaming, so if “The Rules” really do work then these millions of excited women must be looking for someone different from me. You see, there is an unstated, unifying principle behind each and every one of The Rules, and the unifying principle is this — actually, it’s a small double-handful of principles: The man should do more work, the woman should decide more things, the man should know less about what’s going on, and the whole experience should cost him a good amount of money.
This, I think, feels mighty good to you if you’re an available female and you’ve been through some unsatisfying dating experiences, particularly if you’re the one that got dumped. It doesn’t follow from that that these are rules that will work in your future dating endeavors. But the women got excited about the book anyway, by the millions. And this puts the big reveal on the kind of women who like this stuff: If you put them in the right emotional frame of mind, and then tell them some things that aren’t true, you can get whatever you want out of them. Hmmm. I think I know why their dating lives might not have been fulfilling.
Most prominently displayed quote at The Rules home page: Oprah Winfrey. “The Rules isn’t just a book, it’s a movement, honey.” Yes, that Oprah Winfrey. I rest my case.
Well, I don’t know why Vox Populi waited this long to critique The Rules (hat tip to The Ness in Darkness), but I’m glad he did. Wonder if the people who need to read it, will ever see it.
Rule 1: Be a “Creature Unlike Any Other”
Given that Playboy has spent five decades proving the near-universal male predilection for a slender, pretty, large-breasted, blue-eyed blonde, this rule is obviously insane. In fact, most men have distinct preferences that anyone who knows them well can easily identify…Women are naturally attracted to outliers for the sheer sake of their novelty. Men aren’t.
Rule 2: Show Up to Parties, Dances, and Social Events Even if You Do Not Feel Like It.
This makes sense, but you probably shouldn’t bother if you’re just going to be a tiresome bitch. Unless it’s a Goth party, then feel free to mope and whine all you like, Lady Dolorous.
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Rule 5: Don’t Call Him & Rarely Return His CallsThat’s fine. He’ll be busy having sex with the woman who calls him at 11 PM to see if he happens to be free at the moment and you’re just another haughty bitch who can’t be bothered to call him back anyway. This is easily the worst Rule, as it is designed to ensure that the only men who will continue to call you are terminally obsessed stalkers.
Rule 6: Always End Phone Calls First
This Rule is fine, because there isn’t a single man on the planet who keeps track of who hung up first. Besides, he’s either reading his emails, surfing the Internet, or playing video games while you’re rambling on and on about who said what to whom anyhow.
There are, in my opinion, quite a few women who sunk some money into this book and still have it on their shelves to this very day even though they’re still single and miserable. There is an unhappy phenomenon taking place here…and it is not exclusively female, although it is perhaps predominantly female. The phenomenon is an enjoyment of the adrenaline rush that goes with the feeling of solving a problem, coupled with sustained ignorance and apathy regarding whether the problem is really being solved. The Rules were given the ol’ college try; they didn’t work, for the reasons Vox Populi states, along with some others; but the whole experience felt so damn good. Especially those above-mentioned principles according to which men shouldn’t decide anything and they shouldn’t be in control of anything.
Of the millions of old copies of The Rules that were snatched up all those years ago, I speculate further that more than half of them reek of cat urine.