Trevor Holmes's diary, Saturday 5th May 2001: cigarettes 10 (OK it was more like 15) pints of beer 6 (2 Budvars, 3 Heineken and 1 of those extra strong Belgian beers brewed by Trappist monks) lines of coke 1/2 (must call my dealer later) Solpadeines 3 (washed down with Rubex) one-night stands 1 (if it was any more or less then it wouldn't be a one-night stand, would it?) girls' phone numbers 3 (way to go, stud!) girls' phone numbers whose names I can remember 1 (I'm nearly certain that blonde one was called Michelle) interval between sexual thoughts 2mins 30secs (I've had other things on my mind lately) amount of new things I've learnt about women 0.
Bridget Jones isn't the only one who's looking for love, you know. We male singletons are also desperately searching for that special someone, although we use some rather different and, let's say, unorthodox methods for finding Ms Right. These include: being untrustworthy, unfaithful, unreliable, unkempt, immature and afraid of commitment. We find that one or all of the above usually works. Other sure-fire techniques include: travelling in packs with identically-dressed males, blotto on lager, leering and shouting obscenities at every woman who passes; cultivating a nice, cuddly beer belly and sporting the trendiest in Jack Nicholson hairstyles; eating, drinking and smoking our way to heart disease, lung cancer and stress disorders, thus ensuring our suitability for bringing up a family and furthering the human species; spending half our lives discarding perfectly fine women, then acting surprised when we find ourselves alone at 40. Finally, there's the simplest, most effective method of all: complete inaction - guaranteed to get men what they want every time.
Lucky ol' John Doyle certainly got whatever he wanted, and he didn't have to lift a finger, thanks to the efforts of his wife, Laura, author of the best-selling book, The Surrendered Wife. In this erudite tome, she sets out the manifesto for a happy marriage, which may be paraphrased thus: "don't be such a bloody nagging feminist and let him have his way". Excellent! Basically, this Mrs Doyle believes that, instead of trying to change that useless tub of lard snoring in front of the TV with beer dribble running down his sweaty t-shirt, women should learn to change their own controlling behaviour, and not only accept this lovable bundle of indolence, but actually reward him with praise, presents and a nice cuppa tea. Sounds great - where can I get one of these surrendered wives?
In this paradise world where the male is dominant again, sight, taste and hearing would change - for the better. The hard, frowning face of disapproval would be replaced by the calm, accepting face of compliance. The bitter taste of crow would become the sweet tang of angel cake. And the words coming out of her mouth would be in a completely different tongue, the language of praise, forgiveness and blind admiration. "Did you snog that girl from accounts?" would be translated as "I'm so glad you've kept some room on your sweet lips for li'l ol' me". The factual statement: "You're being ridiculous, unreasonable and immature," would magically emerge as, "You're so right, darling, as usual. Let's go to bed". And the inevitable, "I think we should break up, because you obviously can't handle the fact that I'm an independent woman with her own life," would be shortened to the much more user-friendly, "Tie me down, big boy, and make me your slave".
Back in the real world, however, it's still no surrender, so men like me are faced with the same conundrum: how do you make a woman fall in love with you without actually having to do any work? In the great arena of love and relationships, I usually go to battle completely unprepared, pitifully untrained, and laughably ignorant of my adversary's strength and resourcefulness. I set out to conquer, but often end up vanquished, retreating to my hideout (a townhouse in Dublin 4), licking my wounds (not a pretty sight) and wondering where I went wrong (it was only a one-night stand, and besides, we were on a break). All I want is to meet a strong, hardworking, self-determined woman whose dream date is a lazy, insecure, uncommitted male like myself - what's the problem with that?
While it would be nice to imagine all women being as compliant and capitulating as John Doyle's missus, in practise it would be a total nightmare, like an endless re-run of The Stepford Wives. One night, coming home from another attempt to conquer a beautiful, independent and resolutely un-surrendered woman, I tuned in to Channel 4, and saw a programme about these misguided Marys and their horrible, smug husbands. I wanted to a) strangle the women with a curtain cord, b) shoot their smirking husbands in their Lay-ZBoys, and c) get a beer from the fridge, settle down on the sofa and watch Lesbo Vampires from Planet Venus.
Self-help books like The Rules and Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus seem to push the idea that men and women are so dissimilar, they may as well come from different planets and speak completely divergent dialects. As a scientific explanation of why men and women are unable to communicate, this is astronomically inaccurate. We're actually from completely different universes - alternate universes, incapable of existing in harmony, and following totally opposing laws of physics. So, no reason why we can't get along fine, then, eh?
Poor Bridget Jones consults a library of self-help books to help her find love in that great, airless expanse of modern society, although much of the advice is conflicting and misleading. No wonder there's mixed messages: the shelves of our major book stores are so overstocked with self-help books, there's no way all their authors could cross-check to ensure consistency. These tomes are usually found under the category of "Popular Psychology", and boy, are these books popular. Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, for instance, has exploded into a supernova of sequels, including Mars & Venus on a Date, Mars & Venus in Love, Mars & Venus in the Bedroom, Mars & Venus Starting Over and the mysteriously-titled Practical Miracles for Mars & Venus. Then there's the somewhat derivative Why Men Don't Listen and Women Can't Read Maps, the simplistic-sounding Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work, The Rules 2: Time-honoured Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr Right, and the punningly-titled Finding Mr Write. Who the hell reads all this guff? Certainly not us men - we only hang out at the selfhelp section to pick up girls.
These books seem to be mostly aimed at women, and they indirectly put the onus on women to learn our language (footie), adapt to our needs (sex and hang sangwiches on tap) and to bend over backwards to make us happy. By asking their female readers to do all the changing, they implicity let us guys off the hook, so we can sit back, watch the match, and let the girls do all the emotional work. Result! Even Bridget Jones's Diary puts the glaring spotlight on the cellulite-fighting, serial cigarette-quitting female star, leaving Hugh Grant and Colin Firth free to follow their male prime directives. Yet many women still live in hope of hooking that elusive, balding, potbellied, wheezing hunk of their dreams. They'll peruse every self-help book on the shelf, desperately trying to find the formula to make a flagging relationship work. They'll avidly read magazines like Cosmo and Marie Claire, looking for those 50 magical ways to lead your lover up the aisle. A few desperate women are even willing to endure deep humiliation in the name of love, putting up with spousal abuse, adultery and golf, fooling themselves that their love and devotion can compete with a single figure handicap.
Men too, however, have an excellent array of literature at hand to help them in their quest for the ultimate prize - the perfect woman. Lads' mags like Loaded, FHM, Arena and Maxim offer invaluable advice to us lovelorn guys, such as, "turn your girlfriend into an insatiable sex-fiend in just five days!" or "10 guaranteed chat-up lines to lure her back to your pad," or the very useful, "how to give her an orgasm by just talking about football". If none of these selfhelp articles work, then you can always reach up to the next shelf and grab a copy of Hustler (this explains why men are taller than women). It won't help you win the battle of the sexes, but it might provide some meagre comfort in defeat. As they say, if you can't beat 'em , beat off. With my back to the wall, though, I have to concede that men need to take a little more trouble to understand their opposite numbers in that universe-next-door. After all, we're not getting any younger (or thinner), so we ought to equip ourselves as well as possible in order to stay in the game. To that end, I decided it was time to consult the "Popular Psychology" section of my local bookstore, and take the time to read up on what women really want. After all, no expense and effort is too great if it helps me to win the woman of my dreams, and get her to surrender to my every whim.
So I bought a pocket-sized copy of Women Are From Venus - Understanding The Woman In Your Life, for the princely sum of £2.45 in Easons. This little pink book takes about five minutes to read, and is filled with many marvellous revelations, viz: "A woman feels physical chemistry after she has felt mental and emotional chemistry"; "A woman needs constant reassurance that she is loved"; and "A woman doesn't like it when a man raises his voice or maintains dogmatically that he is right". If only I'd known all this before - I'd be away on a hack. And so, armed with my new knowledge and insight into what women want, I'm ready to go back into battle with renewed vigour and confidence. This time (I'm absolutely cocksure of myself) victory will be mine.
