The Reliability Factor

Let me tell you about my buddy Trixie.

Trixie is a girl I met in Wyoming.  I met her in the last two months of my sabbatical there and I wish I had ran into her before.  The reasons are many.

First, she is a spectacularly nice person.  Very kind, very humble, not arrogant, and, frankly, altruistic and patient enough to put up with the ole Captain's brash and blunt personality.  She had the maturity to know when I was joking, and was a spectacular sport when it came to me joshing her.  AND no favor was too big for her to do.  She even drove 4 hours to pick me up at the Rapid City airport late at night.

Second, she was able to keep up with me physically.  In a state where the official state sport is drinking for men and having illegitimate children for the women, very few people are able to run 3 miles, let alone hike up a mountain.  It is ironic that in a state where mountains and trails are not only numerous, but trailheads are no more than 10 minutes away, the people never avail themselves of those opportunities and opt instead to essentially sit on their asses.  However, my buddy Trixie was always up to the physical challenges of a hike and was even in a hair better shape than me (though she was too kind to admit it as I would start to wane behind her in the later stages of some hikes). 

Third, she was always game.  I don't think she ever said no.  "Want to go to Sturgis?"  Yes.  "Want to go on a 14 mile hike?"  Sure.  "Want to go pan for gold?"  Yep.  "Want to shoot guns?"  Sure.  Whether she had done these things or not, she would at minimum entertain the idea and try them. 

But fourth, and arguably most important, she was reliable.  I had ran into girls/women before in Wyoming and at first they may have looked to make for good friends, but in the end, inevitably all of them would flake out.  They'd say they want to go for a hike, only not to return calls when it came time to go.  They'd say they'd want to go for a motorcycle ride, only come up with an excuse at the 11th hour.  They'd want to go out, but only to get drunk and go to loud bars where intelligent conversation was impossible.  And keep in mind this was just to be FRIENDS, you aren't even trying to get romantic (though I surmise they viewed any requests for social outtings as romantic interest).  Regardless, the reliability of the average woman in Wyoming was that of a middle school girl when it came to social activities.

But not Trixie.  No.  If she said she'd be there at 530PM ready for a hike, by god she was there at 530PM ready for a hike.  If she said she wanted to go dancing, she meant it and would show up with her dancing shoes.  And if she said she wanted to go for a motorcycle ride, she was there, with the appropriate gear, raring to go.

Unfortunately, I knew my time in Wyoming was going to be limited.  And this saddened me a bit because I had found a really cool friend.  And since I was leaving and because she was so kind, outgoing and reliable I had no problems "splurging" on her.  Not that I was buying her attention or paying her to be my friend or vying to become a boyfriend, but because I hadn't met anybody in the entire state that was kind enough to hang out with me (not to mention I did feel some guilt leaving her to fend for herself in Wyoming's social life).  Additionally, she wasn't loaded either and was the type of gal that wouldn't afford herself the occasional luxury.  She was that "nice, sweet, American gal" of 1940's yore.  So drinks were on me.  I would pay for gas, grab her a sandwich.  Got her a birthday cake for her birthday.  And knowing the girl would pick me up in Rapid City, I got her a hair/salon/appointment/chick-thingy for her birthday that she'd never afford herself. 

Sure enough, my two months were up.  I made several trips transporting what meager worldly possessions and vehicles I own back to Minnesota.  And as logistics would have it, I had to make one final trip out to Wyoming to pick up my motorcycle (which Trixie was kind enough to store for me).  I flew in, did one final hike the next day, taught one final dance class the next night, and left the next morn at 615AM to avail myself of as much sunlight as possible as I dead-headed my bike back to Minnesota. 

Of course, like hiking, riding your motorcycle for 12 hour stints grants you a lot of thinking time which results in a lot of SAEG (TM) epiphanies and philosophical observations.  And it dawned on me that Trixie was a member of a small and elite group of girls in the ole Captain's life.  Namely, a group of women that I had no problem spending a little money on. 

Understand this "group" is NOT girlfriends.  This group includes girls that are friends and girlfriends, but above all else nice girls who have treated me kindly.  I have mentioned it before, I do not buy women drinks in an effort to impress them.  I have only bought ONE woman ONE drink who I had just met at a bar and it did not work.  I therefore save any kind of "drink buying" or "effort spending" on girls that treat me kindly and that I care about. 

But as I drove I realized there was something much more precise about this elite group of girls than them merely just "treating me kindly."  I realized that for them even to be around long enough to become friends or girlfriends they all had to have one thing in common - reliability.

My life, as is yours, is short and finite.  The most valuable thing you or any other person has on this planet is time.  Therefore, through a very simple Darwinian process of elimination, the people closest to you in your life are reliable on account you plain don't like wasting your time.  People who flake, cancel out, etc. etc., don't make it to that elite group on account they are unreliable and waste your time and you don't want to hang out with such people (that or they also don't want to hang out with you either).  The flakes never get to know you, spend time with you, and therefore never form friendships or romances.  But by default then the flakes never get any of your attention - be it social, financial, romantic or favors.

And I want to say that again, so we all  hear it.

"by default then the flakes never get any of your attention - be it social, financial, romantic or favors."

Are all you flaky women paying attention?  Are you starting to understand the ramifications for your flaky behavior?

It is here now we  must make a distinction or a discernation because I know some of you know where I'm going with this and are saying, "yeah, but but."

So let me explain further. 

I understand that there are women who "flake out" at the last minute because they never had any intention of going out with you in the first place.  I am also fully aware of women feigning interest to score free attention be it at a bar, a night club, at work or any other place on the planet.  And I am also fully aware that there are men who will pay attention (in whatever form) to flaky women because they have no game and don't know any better.

That is not what I'm talking about here.

What I am talking about is a woman who does have interest, but still insists on playing the inane "hard to get."

If there is a logic or a geometric theorem that debunks that myth I hope it is the Reliability Factor.  Because IF you are playing "hard to get" and then flaking out on purpose, you will quickly eliminate yourself from any kind of long running chances of getting future attention from your target.  But my observation about The Reliability Factor goes well beyond that logic with Trixie.

Ask yourself a question:

"How many girls have you met in your life that are as reliable and game-free as Trixie?"

I look back and I can't think of more than maybe, MAYBE a dozen women that were that reliable, straight forward, and forthright.   Where there was no games, no BS, no drama.  Just "hey, you wanna go do activity X?"  "Yeah, let's go do activity X!"

Now ask yourself another question:

"How many girls have you had any kind of "positive" (romantic or friendly) relationship with?"

I look back and I'd say easily hundreds.  And that's dating alone.  Friends, even more.  But I can only recall 10-12 women in the past who didn't play games and just straight up Joe's like Trixie.

The reason I bring up the math is that it shows the MAJORITY of women who have become friends, girlfriends, dates, etc., DID have an interest, but still engaged in some kind of "play hard to get" tomfoolery.  However, those same girls, either because they played "too hard to get" or such game-playing psychologically precluded them from any kind of long term relationship,  didn't make it into the "Elite Girl Pool."  They went by the wayside of life.  The ones that DID make it into the "Elite Girl Pool" DID have an interest and DID NOT engage in such tomfoolery - ie -they were RELIABLE.

What did this reliability get them?

Frankly, the best men have to give.

Lifelong friendships, marriages, fun, and yes, sure, "free drinks" or other forms of "attention."  But the point I'm trying to make is not "look at all the attention you can get," but rather the irony of how reliability is the single most sure fire way to get "attention," but so few women engage in it. 

In the end The Reliability Factor paid off for young Trixie.  Because she was so reliable, her and I were able to create a great friendship.  Part of that relationship (not to brag) was her going from a noob ballroom dancer under my tutelage to probably the most accomplished dancer in town (heck, the state even).  The dancing also gave her a reason to wear some dresses and heels she never had an opportunity to wear.  So in the two months I was there, she went from an innocuous, quiet girl with jeans and tennis shoes, to not just the best dancer on the floor, but the prettiest-dressed as well.

The women noticed she was the center of attention on the dance floor.

The men noticed she was very prettily dressed and wearing heels.

No woman ever had that much attention in the history of Wyoming.

Then again, no woman has ever been that reliable.