Another month, another girl. Adieu, SBH.

I was resigned to letting my Snowboard Hottie (SBH) go, having a quick hook up with her a week at a time on holidays and other bay area visits.

I had relegated her to what-if status. "I like her, but..." status.

And then a friend (married, natch) told me I was a coward. That I should grab it by the horns. Ask her. Feel her out. Find out.

Well, I did. I was genuine, and nice, and not Alfie. I was me. I called, I hugged, I felt, I engaged, and I fell.

How far remains to be seen. You never know what you got 'til it's gone, as that screechy voiced chick says. And the good version covered by the Counting Crows.

Tonight I left her, without tears, after a drama free whirlwind romance, after allowing myself to feel and showing up at her doorstep and just wanting to be with her instead of expecting to fuck, after showing the bad boy and then releasing the good.

Tonight I left.

"Talk soon?" she said. "If you want to," I answered.

But I won't call. And she'll call, once, on Friday, before she leaves town for the holidays.

She'll wonder how I'm doing, and I won't call back. Then we'll see each other two years from now, and she'll be with someone who is half the man I am, and she'll see me and want to fuck me, want me to kiss her, want me to embrace her, and want me to let my guard down like it was yesterday.

And I won't. And she'll always wonder.

I'm mad, now, because all you fucks who tell me not to play the game are full of shit. All you fucks who insist that being myself is not a bad play, that the sensitive, nice guy that is not Alfie can find a woman who appreciates him.

FUCK OFF. You don't know shit.

Because I could've fucked her for the next 2 years and loved her in my own way. I could have had her, and loved her, and been loved back, however distant it might be, and it would have been fine. I could have kept her at arms length, while I went home to the desert and fucked my red-headed engineer, my brunette nurse, and my blonde what-the-fuck-was-her-major-anyway, and loved her in a way that is not intense, almost real, and completely eaten up by 99% of the goddamn female population in spite of themselves.

But, instead, I got emotional, I got attached, I started to fall, and instead of fucking her brains out the moment I saw her, I asked her how her day was.

And tonight, she wanted to "have a quick drink". Great. Either she's pregnant or she's breaking up with me.

Turns out it was both. Until we went and bought a goddamn $10 stress-reducing test, of course. And then we were left with no stress, no cell division, no connection and a Dear John.

So, the next time you fuckers want to open up your goddamn mouths, the next time you want to approach me, and tell me to "let go", or call me a coward for not embracing a young lady I think I could fall for, or tell me that there are women out there that don't cheat, or say some bullshit like "quality women are at church", get stuffed.

And now, a little word from my good friend Alfie:

+ Women don't respect you for being nice, for getting the door, or for treating them well. They respect you for your car, your platinum, and you cock size. Put another way, it's all bullshit until you make them cum. Shut up and bend her over. That's the only way you'll make a lasting impression.

+ The smart ones cheat, the dumb ones are still dumb, the old ones are cynical, and the young ones don't give good head. Basically, just find the hottest, youngest tail you can find, because the quality ain't gonna change regardless. At least then your friends will respect you because they wanna fuck your girl.

+ The bad boy with a nice streak play works really well on late-20s cynics. Younger than 25 or slightly damaged, and just be mean. They say they want to be treated well, but that's a crock of shit. Fuck as fast as you can. Nice guys don't get laid. After you fuck, DO NOT STOP playing the game. You can take more liberties, but the moment you feel yourself getting attached, just rest assured that she's cheating on you. Then you'll start acting appropriately towards her, which, ironically, stupidly, categorically contradictingly, will make her more attracted to you.

+ Nice girls just cheat less. Or they're better actresses.

+ Yeah, I'm bitter. Until you've walked a mile in my shoes, shut the fuck up. Oh, and by the way, is your sister single?

+ Further to that thought, I hate you. I hate women, I hate married people, I hate happy people, I hate poor people, I hate rich people, I hate ghetto people, and I hate your mom. Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate HATE.

+ One day I will learn. One day I will actually take my own advice and stop hoping.

+ Do NOT spend the night and not fuck. EVER. In fact, unless you have to leave before she wakes up to get to the office where you make the money that got her to spread her legs in the first place, fuck her twice. I don't care if she's sick. I don't care if you're a nice guy. I don't care if you like her. If you have to do a gesture of goodwill, drop off some fucking Nyquil, get her a glass of water, kiss her on the forehead, and then take your happy ass home. Or, better yet, go out with the next girl on your list.