Why Do Women Love Jerks?


I have decided to share with you, my blog readers, the first two chapters of a novel I am writing. But before that let me tell you the story behind this novel.

What is the secret behind attraction between men and women? This question has fascinated me since a long time. Why and how men get attracted to women is a pretty simple question that anyone who is accustomed with the ways of the world can answer. Male psyche works in a fixed way and that’s why we men fall prey to female charms very easily. So there is no point talking about it. We already know everything that there is to know in this regard.

But why and how do women get attracted to men, romantically, or more precisely, sexually? This is a very tricky and mysterious question and unfortunately, people rarely have the right answer to this question. The blame, obviously lies with men, who make the mistake of assuming that women think the same way as they do, and so, get frustrated when things don’t happen the way they want them to.


The answer to this question is pretty simple and fundamental. It’s there all around us. In the movies we see, in the books we read, in our real life experiences. And yet most men are clueless about it because even though the answer is simple, it’s not so apparent. The ones who are good with women are mostly the “naturals.” They do all the right things by instinct and not by deliberate attempt. And those are not good with women naturally, simply don’t “get” it. They just get desperate and lessen their chances with women even more.

A few months back, after lot of research and reading, I learnt the secret. With my new found understanding of the women psyche, when I looked back at my own life, I realized that I have made all the mistakes a guy can possibly make with a girl. I had a good laugh over my own naiveté and like any compulsive writer, decided that I must write about it. The secret is so interesting and so true that there simply wasn’t any way I could have digested it. I had to puke it out.

At first I thought I would write a series of articles on the topic and post them on this blog. But then I stopped myself. How can I be so presumptuous as to lecture people about something I was myself clueless about, just a few months back? I am no dating expert! I have learnt things the hard way, by making mistakes. And I am still learning. So what’s the solution? Simple, I told myself, write a story about it!

And that’s how I started writing this novel. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing the five chapters that I have already written. And I will soon get back to writing the rest of it. But before I proceed I just wanted to have a reality check and find out if I am any good at writing comic fiction. I need your help.

You just need to answer a single question: After reading this chapter, do you really want to read the next chapter?

I welcome both yes and no. But I have a small request. If your answer is no, let me know why.

Still wondering what’s the relevance of the tile of this post? The question I have asked in the title and the answer to it, is the central theme of this novel. Why do women love jerks? Do you have an answer?

Chapter 1

Caramel and Frooty

Caramel was so happy today. Today he was going to do something for which he had been waiting for more than six months. He was going to meet Frooty today, on Valentine’s Day. And he was madly in love with her. Even though Kinesis was India’s biggest PR Company and the office was gasping for breath due to the collective heat generated by all the smart and attractive ladies working there, it took the beauty of Frooty to melt caramel’s heart.

Frooty had joined Kinesis as a trainee and was under the apprenticeship of Caramel. She was tall, had a great body and a face to die for. Pigeons fluttered in Russia whenever she batted her eyelids, trees in the Amazon rainforest became greener whenever she smiled, and the waves of the Pacific jumped higher every time she spoke. If you ever wondered why the Amazon rainforests are becoming greener and greener and why the Pacific Ocean experiences the highest waves, the reason is this: Frooty smiled a lot. A lot. And her non stop chattering abilities were legendary in the corridors of Kinesis. Not that it was just Mother Earth who had to bear the brunt of Frooty’s unearthly beauty. Kinesis’ bosses was equally tormented. The consumption of paper and cartridges of one of the office photocopier had increased dramatically since she had joined seven months ago because Frooty’s cubicle was beside the photocopier, the number of mistakes in the press notes that were written by all the men near Frooty’s cubicle had gone up and their efficiency had gone down even though the time they spend within the office premises had gone up, thereby increasing the electric bill. And the heat generated in Frooty’s cubicle was so much that her computer frequently acted crazy and the IT guy had to run down to her every now and then to stop it from getting burnt.

All the men in Kinesis had their eyes set on her. The one’s who were single openly flirted with her (and she firted back, oh yes she did!) and the committed ones flirted with her in the best interests of the company (in HR parlance they call it “team member” interaction). And Frooty? Well, she loved every bit of the attention she got. She practically lived off it.

Caramel had been waiting for Frooty in a CCD outlet near Diamond Garden in Chembur for the past half an hour. It was seven thirty in the evening and all the tables in the coffee shop were occupied today. The two waiters were extra busy today and were trying hard to match the slow romantic music that wafted out of the four small speakers at the four corners of the room. Caramel had come to meet Frooty all the way from Vashi where he lived. Both had bunked office today, Caramel for Frooty, and Frooty for … Well, lets keep that a secret for now, shall we? Caramel had called Frooty last night and asked if he could meet her in the evening. After some hesitation, she agreed. But made sure that they met at seven and not nine as Caramel had wanted.

But it was already seven thirty and there was no sign of Frooty anywhere. It’s ok, Caramel convinced himself. Frooty had promised him she would come. And so she would. He trusted her.

Caramel’s “trust” on Frooty had developed over many hours of drooling over her. Since he was her senior she had to spend a lot of time with him learning everything about writing press releases and building rapport with all the media folks. But teaching the office goddess had its own pitfalls and it took no time for Caramel to get to chanting her name in his sleep and seeing visions of her on his office desktop screen.

At seven forty five, Frooty finally came. No, she didn’t just come, she glided into the coffee shop effortlessly, making every head turn towards her as she passed by them. She was wearing a black strapless top and a pair of hip hugging jeans, her hips swaying as she moved towards Caramel. Along with frooty came a gush of lavender fragrance, intoxicating Caramel’s mind further. A couple of other guys at the far end of the room looked towards Caramel with jealous eyes. But Caramel was too busy sighing to notice any of them.

“Please, please, please Caramel!” Frooty cooed as she sat on the chair in front of Caramel. “Will you do me a favor? Will you? Can you hurry up a bit and tell me what you want to talk about. Look I have to meet someone at eight thirty, and its already…(looks at her watch)…oh my God! Its already seven forty five! How will I reach Bandra by eight thirty? I …”

“Frooty, Frooty!” Caramel interrupted her. He looked at her raising his eye brows and said, lowering his voice, “Hi.”

“Oh yes, Hi” Frooty said, smiling and calming down. Her “hi” was more a guilty realization that she should be greeting first and then complaining not the other way round.

“Will you tell me why is it so urgent for you to go to Bandra now?” Caramel asked.

“No, first you tell me why you called me here?” Frooty tactfully evaded the question.

Frooty’s question brought a big smile on Caramel’s face. He looked at his backpack kept on the ground beside him, bent down and took something out of it. No, it was not just “something”. The look on face Caramel’s face clearly indicated that it was more than just “something.” It looked like a small square box, wrapped in a colourful, flowery paper.

“Open it,” Caramel told Frooty, handing over the small-paper-wrapped-box.

Frooty look quizzically, first at the object in her hand, and then at Caramel, who was all smiles.

“Oh my God! Is it really what I think it is? Oh Caramel, is this a gift for me? Tell me? Is this?”

“Just open it Frooty! You’ll know.”

The wrapper was gone in precisely three seconds and the small, maroon coloured velvety box was open in the next two. What came out of it next, made Caramel’s heart race faster than the Royal Derby race horses and made Frooty widen her eyes so much that her eye balls just about managed to stop themselves from popping off.

“What is this?” asked Frooty holding a small heart shaped red colored stone between her index finger and thumb and bringing it in front of her eyes. She had extracted the piece of stone from inside a crumpled pink colored perfumed paper. Something was written inside the paper, but Frooty decided to inspect the stone first.

“This is your lucky stone. It’s called …,” Caramel ventured to explain.

“My lucky stone? What do you mean?”

“I consulted an astrologer and found out your lucky stone and decided to gift it to you so that it protects you from danger.”

“Oh, how sweet of you! Thank you so much!” Frooty said, keeping the stone inside the velvety box, averting her eyes away from Caramel.

Caramel, for one moment, felt that Frooty’s voice sounded mechanical and maybe he saw her shaking her head. But the next moment he rubbished the idea, rebuking himself for doubting Frooty’s intentions. He was sure Frooty liked him. Otherwise why would she come here?

“And what about this?” Frooty said, opening the pink-perfumed-paper and smiling. Is this a letter for me?”

“Yes, go ahead. Read it. It’s for you.”

Frooty did read the letter. And the more and more she read, the graver she became. The smile on her face vanished into thin air, like a piece of camphor on a dry summer afternoon. Once or twice her eye brows raised themselves but mostly they remained unusually lowered, as if in a frown. Caramel’s heart went into a frenzy, beating faster and faster inside his rib cage, creating vibrations which shook his whole body. He knew from the beginning it wasn’t a good idea. He should not have written that letter. What if she doesn’t speak to him again? What if she starts hating him?

Considering the circumstances, the contents of the letter should not be an object of much curiosity for any practical person. But still, for the benefit of the die hard romantics amongst us, who refuse to believe in the harsh realities of life, it is being reproduced here. If you can’t understand it properly, blame Caramel, for he has this habit of writing in a strange version of English when he becomes emotionally excited. You know that something is wrong with his sentences but you can’t figure out exactly what.

My Dearest Frooty,

It is with great courage that I am trying to say that I have always liked seeing you smiling and seeing you doing things that made my heart beat faster and faster and faster and slowly slowly I started liking you. And before I even got a chance to realize it, you became more precious to me than anyone else. I love mangoes but you are even juicier than a Mango and sweeter than sugar. You are my life, Frooty and without you I cannot even think of spending a single day even though you smile at me from my desktop screen and you talk to me in my dreams, which makes me feel that you are always there with me even when you are not with me, which forces me to conclude that I may have, after all, fallen in love with you and it is only you who can save me from living a worthless life without you and it is only you who can love me back. So, Frooty will you be my Mango, will you love me back?

Always yours,

Caramel

Fruity couldn’t stop herself from bursting into a laugh. All the heads in the coffee shop once again turned towards them. But Fruity didn’t care. Neither did she notice the terrorized face of Caramel coming back to its normal posture and then converting into a smile and finally ending in a laughter, synchronizing perfectly well with that of Frooty.

They stopped laughing together. Caramel was relieved that the worst was over. Frooty kept quiet for a while, as if mentally preparing for her speech.

“Look Caramel,” she finally started, “you are a sweet and nice guy. You have helped me a lot in these past six months and I can’t thank you enough for that. You really are a sweet guy. But…”

Sorry for interrupting such an important conversation, but before Frooty proceeds with her “but,” (and it is a “big but,” I assure you), there is something about Caramel that you must know. Since Frooty has confirmed it herself, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t reconfirm that Caramel was indeed “sweet and nice.” So sweet and nice that when he was born twenty six years ago, he refused to cry like other normal babies to save his parents the trouble of keeping him quiet. Only, his parents didn’t quite agree with him and created such a ruckus in the hospital that the head physician himself had to come to check the baby and confirm that he was perfectly normal in every way. He was just a nice and quiet baby who didn’t want to trouble anyone.

This single act of sweetness on the part of the newborn baby boy and the fact that his skin was darker than his parents expectations, convinced his father that he should be called Caramel, and made his mother love him more than his brother and sister. And she even found a perfectly plausible reason to love him the most.

“He is my shona, my piece-of-the-heart, my sun-and-moon, my stomach-washer,” said his mother one night, lovingly caressing and kissing the two year old baby Caramel, quietly nestled in her lap.

“What did you say?” asked the father, “What do you mean by stomach-washer?”

“Oh you’ll not understand.” The doubts of an unaware father dismissed with a swagger. “This is between me and my son. He is the last born. So he washed my stomach from inside as he came out. And so he is the most special one and I love him the most. Understood? You are a father. You won’t understand. And by the way, he is my son and I can call him by whatever name I want. What it is to you?”

The father, not ready to challenge motherly love, kept quiet.

“You see,” said the mother, her eyes twinkling. “You just see. One day my son will become the sweetest and the nicest person of the world.”

Caramel’s mother’s prophecy had indeed come true, attested by the affirmation of Frooty, though it can’t be said for sure if he held the world record. Over to Frooty now.

“…but…I don’t look at you that way Caramel. I am in love with Rusty.”

This was one of those rare moments when Frooty was brief, and precise. But her preciseness was enough to give Caramel the shock of his life and he barely managed to save himself from a heart attack. He could clearly feel his heart beating inside his chest, and blood draining away from his head. He kept quiet for a while.

“You mean the Rusty in our office?” Caramel finally managed to ask, overcoming his nervous attack.

“Yes, the Rusty.”

“Rusty the Dusty?”

“Yes. Rusty the Dusty.”

Caramel stared at Frooty as if she had done the unthinkable. He could have tolerated anyone, but not Rusty the Dusty. This was a travesty far beyond his imagination. It didn’t make any sense. Any sense at all!

Coming up next:

Chapter 2: Rusty the Dusty

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4 Comments to “Why Do Women Love Jerks?”

  1. title is for sure interesting. I might sound critical or suggestive though I liked t story line thoroughly. The line which disconnected me for a while was t presence of author guiding my thoughts where I am absorbed absolutely in t scene n situation and you said sorry for interruption and background of caramel’s is narrated. A sudden feeling of someone else presence break t flow, no.2 I personally felt that use of word ‘Sorry’ gives an indication to t reader that writer belongs to t so called good apples (nice and sweet guys) category 🙂
    Probably in t coming chapters you must have plans to narrate girls (girls who like jerks) mind map and calculations towards assessing their boyfriends.
    Curious to read further 🙂

    • Thank you so much Divay, for the feedback! My page stats show that quite a few ppl have visited this page but none of them commented. I was concerned if I am writing about a topic people are not comfortable with. But good that u broke the ice. And don’t worry about being critical because thats what I had asked you to do.
      1. You have made a very valid point and if the interruption is breaking the flow of the story then it should not be happening. But the “third person voice” interrupting the story is a very well establish tactics to create humor. Charles Dickens did it brilliantly in Oliver Twist. Woody Allen did it brilliantly in Annie Hall. Karan Johar did it brilliantly in Kal Ho Na Ho. But I guess I need to fine tune the inturruption, because the narrator’s voice will make it’s presence felt many times in the novel. Point taken. Will improve on it.

      2. I don’t agree with ur point no. 2. “Sorry” is used here for the sole purpose of creating humor and sarcasm. It has no reference whatsoever with me. I have tried writing autobiographical fiction before, like any amateur. But I have seen it’s pitfalls and constraints. So this is 100 % pure fiction and every frame every scene is purely the product of my imagination. Moreover, you r using ur personal knowledge of the author and his confession in the post to make that assumption. 🙂 Not all my readers will be my friends.

      3. In the coming chapters and in almost half of the novel, there will be a complete tutorial on how girls think, how they make decisions when it comes to choosing guys, what is their idea of a cool guy, what they like, what they don’t like in guys, all with live examples, i.e. sub plots all told with in a funny way and through interesting situations. 🙂 But I will not share any of that here on this blog. I will put up only one more chapter here.

      4. No, girls don’t calculate when it comes to guys. It may sound contradictory but it’s true. They do things by instinct and feeling. They are ten times more capable than guys to instinctively tell a guy’s real intentions within minutes. And girls don’t really fall for Jerks, they fall for some jerk like qualities in men.

  2. Well, I would just sit and watch out fr sm more action in the coming chapters!! 🙂
    This sure does make u want to know what happens next……

  3. Women love confidence, and “nice” guys do not display confidence, but “jerks” display great confidence. Jerk-ness is not attractive, confidence is.

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