Why I Will Never Loan Money to Another Woman

This is why I've developed a 'never loan women money' policy; it's also metastasized into a 'never loan money outside the family' policy, too.

I've covered the story of what it was like to get Mi-Jun to pay back the $600 she owed me. Naturally, she was hard-pressed for money in March due to circumstances beyond her control, and I waited quite a number of months for her to get back on her feet. By the time September rolled-around, the Korean won was no longer plunging and had recovered somewhat, (though it was about 30% lower than what it was the previous year). And I had to pay for rent and tuition, too. I couldn't afford to throw that money out the window. Naturally, I had to use a bit of pressure in order to lubricate things. Happy to say it worked.

I guess... I don't like to have people tell me that they'll pay me back and then not pay me back. It makes me feel betrayed. I'd much rather a person was up-front with me. If they said 'NiceGuy, I'm desperately short of money, and there's absolutely no guarantee that I can ever pay you back', I'd probably take pity on the person and try to help them out in some way. If they say 'oh sure, I'll get the money back to you', and then skip-town to avoid paying me, of course it would make me a lot more angry than if they were truthful from the start. I don't think I'm too much different from most people in this regard.

So, as I've said before, I'm a really Nice Guy. Until recently, I had a stable, high-paying job. Nice + Stable Job could have been considered my biggest weakness because weaseling freeloaders (such as women) would start to think they could take advantage of me.

Shirley Moocher. Hoo-Boy.

My friend Miriam has a friend I like to call Shirley Moocher. I met her through Miriam and I've come to know her because she and I have hung-out a bit. Shirley... geesh... you know, I try to be Nice... But I'll be honest; she acts like a total simpleton. She's one woman who I can say is honestly not oppressed by society, but consistently acts so dumb that she fucks herself over time and time again. Okay, I'll use a word I hate using: bimbo.

Her face: 7.5. Her body: 9. Hmm, that would make her an 8.25, I guess if you consider both face and body to have equal value in calculating overall looks... but I invite you to create a weighted average if you think the face should have a higher importance or vice-versa.

In fact, I used to be attracted to her on a totally physical level when I first met her. But then something happened: I got to know her. That sure cured me in a hurry. Now I only talk to her to be polite; I prefer to keep her at arms' length. She has a killer body, though, and love the way she dresses. What can I say? I love a glimpse of nice cleavage. She used to be somewhat chubby, and she lost a lot of weight (I think it mostly went straight to her breasts.), so now she simply loves to show-off. Either she's oblivious to men's reactions to her body, or she pretends to be oblivious. She either doesn't mind it when men look at her body, or she just doesn't notice it. Now, I'm not saying that women with large breasts are necessarily dumb, I'm just saying that this particular woman with big breasts acts dumb. In fact, I think acting dumb helps her out in a perverse way: it allows her to be passive-aggressive without arousing suspicion. But her body can't compensate for the wreck that she really is.

Why is She a Wreck?

First of all, she does not know how to manage her own life. She's a total flake. She does not know how to, say, concentrate on schoolwork... so she's been in community college off and on for the last 10 years and still isn't any closer to a degree. That, and she has no clue how to make a budget or keep her checkbook straight. Sometimes, I feel like saying "Knock Knock Knock. McFly?? Hello, McFly?! Anyone home in there?!"

Second of all, she strictly dates guys who are bad news. And she doesn't like me in 'that way' (thank God). When I was first getting to know her, I asked her once why she wouldn't consider dating me... she said that it's because I'm too "sweet and feminine" and she thinks of me as a brother. Gee, thanks. I've asked her several times to set me up with one of her female friends... she says all her female friends are married or already have boyfriends, so she's been zero help on that front. In fact, when she had a bit too much to drink one night, she even said that if I really want to attract women, I should move to a country where they'll appreciate guys like me. At least she was being honest, which is more than I can say for her when she's sober.

She really prefers guys who are the opposite of me, I guess: unsweet and hyper-masculine. For the longest time, Shirley used to be madly in love with a 32 year old guy who has two kids with two different women... and who's also an indebted gambler and lives in his parents' basement. (I am not making this up!) Heh, what a catch he is! When I questioned her about this, she usually said "oh, I know he's got a good heart". Yeah, sure thing. I have a good heart, too.

Another guy she dated was an Ecstasy dealer nicknamed 'Ape'. One night, someone told me that Ape got busted for pulling a knife in a nightclub. Charming fellow.

Her most recent obsession: a guy who cheated on her last year and hurt her feelings really badly. I met him more than once: he's a sexist jock-type bonehead who made little insulting comments about me when I turned my back. She broke-up with him 6 months ago because he slept with some other chick... but nonetheless, she's still emotionally hooked on him, so she's trying all sorts of little mind-tricks to get him back... In fact, recently, her friends have been so disgusted by her dating habits that they've threatened not talking to her again if she continues to date guys who are bad news. So far, it seems to be working. But every now and then, she'll tell me how she wants this bonehead guy back, but if her friends find-out, they won't talk to her again. So I'm not to tell anyone about who she's dating. She trusts telling me, though... again, because I'm "sweet"- she once even asked me to stalk him for her(!) Sometimes you just want to whack her 'round the head two or three times with a pillowcase full of tangerines in order to pound a little sense into her... er, not that I condone violence.

Third: she knows I'm somewhat altruistic and that I'm fairly reliable. That's something that she can take advantage of. In insurance, they have this concept called 'moral hazard'. Moral hazard is the idea that insured people might start to behave recklessly; if someone else is going to clean-up after your mistakes, then why should you ever be careful? I always seem to come-through for her when she's in a jam, so why should she try to avoid getting into jams? She's gotten into the habit of depending on me because she knows I'm dependable. Naturally, until I get my money back from her, I'll have to continue to be dependable... the instant I get paid-back in full, I'll stop doing these unreturned favors for her.

Naturally, she considers me to be like a brother to her. I've come to know her well-enough that I'm glad to say I don't want her as more than someone who I can keep at arms' length. She is a nice woman sometimes... and she's got a really cute face and her body could kill a mule at ten paces. But still, I sometimes wonder why I even put-up with her.

Her only hope for the future: find a Nice Guy. Specifically, a Nice Guy who's not me.

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions

One of the first times I met her, she and I went-out clubbing with Miriam and Dan. I'd heard that Shirley dated guys were scum in the past, and I was hoping that she might want to date a Nice Guy for a change? So, I'm being really nice to her and trying to be charming... and who knows? If she turned-in to my girlfriend, I'd be so good to her that every other guy she dated in the past would seem rotten by comparison. I'd do my best to cherish her and make her feel special.

We went to this club downtown... I really wanted to get her to like me. She and I went-up to the bar together and I handed the bartender my credit card to start a tab.

I point to Shirley and say to the bartender: "Give this lady anything she wants tonight, on me." Her face makes a happy-surprised expression.

"Thanks! You're so sweet!" She gives me a quick hug and puts her head on my shoulder for a second or two.

I wanted to make a good impression. In hindsight, perhaps I shouldn't have done this.

Defining Shirley

There was an occasion where I was going to meet her for lunch in a rather large, crowded restaurant. One of the reasons I like it is because the staff are encouraged to be wise-asses towards the customers. The restaurant has two levels and I've noticed that it's sometimes tough to navigate around when it's full of people. I got a call from Shirley on my cell phone while I was on my way to meet her.

"Hi, NiceGuy, I'm already here." She says. There were a lot of voices in the background.

"Well, I'll be there in a few minutes. It sounds crowded in there. Where will you be sitting?" I ask.

"Oh, um, I gave the waiter my name. Or just ask for the girl in the green summer dress."

I hang-up. Eventually, I walk-in and look-around. There are waiters zipping everywhere and people have packed the waiting area. I go-up to the greeter, a guy in his mid-twenties.

"Hi, I'm looking for a table under the name Shirley Moocher?" I ask. He looks-over the book.

"Hmm, don't see the name here. What does she look like?"

"She's so tall." I hold my hand-up to about 5'7". "She's got brown hair and green eyes. Um... oh yeah, she should be wearing a green summer dress?" His eyes indicates he's seen her.

"Oh, the one with the..." He cups his hands in front of his chest. "Sure, this way..."

Yes, now I know from experience: a pair of boobs is all she pretty much is.

NiceGuy is a Jackass. Why not ask him for Money?

This conversation took-place on the phone a mere three months after I first met Shirley Moocher. This is about... hmm.... 20 months ago.

"Hi... NiceGuy?" It was about 7 PM. I was relaxing at home.

"'Allo. What-up?" Can you imagine me in my red smoking jacket wearing a monocle, holding a brandy snifter in my palm? That must be how Shirley imagines me. Overstuffed with filthy money, just dying to lavish it on some damsel.

"Oh... just wanted to call and say hi... um... and I wanted to ask you a favor?"

"It depends, what is it?" I light-up a Cuban stogie with a flaming $50 bill, and blow a ring of bluish smoke into my billiard room.

"Well, my mom has this big credit card bill coming-up... and she's a little short on paying it... and I wanted to loan her some money, but I don't have any to spare. I really want to help her, so I was wondering..."

I could tell exactly where this was going. Call me 'Daddy Warbucks' while you're at it, sweetheart.

"Well, Shirley, I'm afraid I don't know your mom." I swirl the brandy around the snifter and sit-down on one of the piles of gold coins strewn-about the manor.

"Oh, you'd be making the loan to me... I'll pay you back." She said.

"I don't know..." Standish, my butler, quietly asks if he should start polishing the silver in the ballroom for the annual Rotary Club Cotillion to be held on Friday. I nod to Standish and he bows before exiting the room. I look-out the window and notice the caterers have started setting-up the large tent in the center of the hedge-maze for the guest reception.

"Pleeeeeeeease! I really want to help my mom..." She pleads.

"Well, I'm afraid that I wouldn't be comfortable doing that. You see, I have this auto-insurance premium that I've paid and if I make a withdrawal over the next week, the check'll bounce... Anyways, I apologize." I hang-up after saying goodbye.

So, I told a white-lie. I only knew her for three months and she was asking me for a loan? I mean... she wants to help her mom, so she shifts the burden of helping her onto me? In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't give her any money on this occasion. I'd probably still be waiting for it.

I'm not the Only One Who Encourages Her

About three weeks after this, Dan, Miriam, Shirley and I go-out to the local mall to catch a movie and do some shopping. We meet-up with a few-other friends of Dan... 3 guys who I'd never met before.

Miriam and Shirley go-off to try-on clothes in The Limited. Us five guys are milling-around outside We're waiting and waiting. I look at my watch.

"Hey, I thought we were planning to go the theaters soon?" I say to Dan.

"Yeah... let's go in and ask them how much longer they'll take."

Dan, Paul (one of the 3 guys I'd never met before that point) and I walk-in to the store. Miriam is browsing-through a rack of dresses, while Shirley is trying-on something new and checking herself-out in the mirror... she is wearing a ribbed, blue cotton turtleneck shirt that is so tight, it looks painted-on. Her pair of perky attention-getters are proudly standing-out in front.

"Holy fucking shit..." Whispered Paul. He took the words out of my mouth. He walked-up to Shirley. "Hi, are you thinking of getting that?"

She nodded. "I think it's a little tight... Makes me look fat. And I don't have much money, besides."

"No way, you look great. I heard it'll be your birthday soon. Let me get that for you as a present?"

I sigh. Yup, I'm not the only one.

Hi, Would you Like to Make a Donation to the Deadbeats' Sinkhole?

She calls me (This is about six months later).

"Hi... NiceGuy?"

"'Allo, what-up?"

"Well, just wanted to know if you could do me a really big favor?"

"Depends..." It's not related to how your finances have been destroyed by the fact that you spend money foolishly, is it?

"Well, I've just arranged to move into my apartment, and I've used all the money in my checking account for my security deposit..."

This sounds like a money-related inquiry. Would I like to make a donation?

"And...?" Spit it out, woman. How much?

"Well, can you loan me $200 so I can cover my expenses in the meantime? I'll pay you back next month."

"I don't know... I mean, I..."

"Please! It'll help me a lot, and... I'll tell you what? I'll write a check for you and you can deposit it next month. Okay?"

Well... Shirley is usually nice to me and her Mooching has not yet become incessant. And I hope she might consider dumping her asshole boyfriend for me. Okay, $200? I can afford it right now. Why not?

I write the check, and she picks it up the next day. She trills with gratitude and hugs me.

"Oh thank you! You're so nice!" Yeah, yeah. Just pay me back. She writes me a check with a date of next month on it. "Now, you can deposit this next month. So, you can relax; I'll be paying you back all right." Well, I'll go-out on a limb and trust her. Why not? I'm a Nice Guy. And women with huge knockers never lie.

Silly Me...

Exactly one month later, I walk-up to the ATM, punch-in my secret pass-code (BOSCO) and slip the check into the slot. Next week, I get a letter: I've been charged three dollars because the check has bounced. Ugh, why am I not surprised by this?

I call Shirley.

"Hey, your check bounced." I grumble.

"Really? I didn't know... uh... I've had a lot of bills this month... more than I thought, I guess. I had to get some furniture..."

"I don't care what the hold-up is on your end. I was really hoping to be paid back by now..." I start to sound really irritated. It's not the money I'm irritated at; it's the fact that she's not honoring her end of the agreement.

"Look, I'll pay you back when I get some cash freed-up. Okay? I promise."

"You promised me last month that I'd get paid back this month. You've already broken your promise. Why should I believe your new promise?"

"Please believe me! It's not like I'm not going to pay you back!" She is adamant.

"Oh, but that's what happened; you didn't pay me back. That's why your check was worthless."

"But I tried..."

"No, do or not do. There is no try, got it? You didn't pay me back." Do you understand the noises that are coming-out of the flapping hole on the front of my head? But she swears up and down that she'll pay me back when she gets some spare cash.

Maybe if I do Some Favors, She'll Pay me Back?

She's in community college, and she's taking a class in macroeconomics. She knows I like the subject, and she tells me how she's going to fail if she doesn't get help soon. I volunteer to help her with her economics homework. That, and I can hope I can convince her to pay me back in return for being her tutor.

She comes-over... she also happens to be wearing a rather low-cut top that shows-off her cleavage very nicely. They're like a pair of flesh-colored grapefruits. Ooh, very nice. I bet she could almost hear my erection snapping to life. I hope she's not trying to curry favor, because it's working. And I just can't help it. I'm a guy. I want to look.

We sit-down and I review her hooters- er, ASSIGNMENTS! They're a week overdue already. She's especially having problems with equations of price elasticity and how it effects demand. We cover questions about aggregate demand, no big deal. I explain how aggregate demand is calculated and how it works, and why the aggregate demand curve slopes the way it does. Questions about marginal propensity to consume, no problem, I explain the equations. What's the difference between Real GDP and Nominal GDP? And so on.

Slowly, Shirley seems to be getting it. She was totally confused when she came-in, and I think she just needed a more succinct presentation of the material.

"You are a really good teacher." She tells me. "I mean, you explain it so well. My teacher is totally boring and he gives sucky examples."

"Well, it takes a very special kind of teacher to teach econ. I should know, I've had my share of sucky profs, too."

So, we work on the homework problems, I show her how to do the math. She does a fair amount of the work, but I also have to check her numbers to make sure she's done it right. She is elated when her homework is done. I just hope that she understands the material. Before she leaves, she says that she'll pay me back as thanks for my service.

She got a good grade on the homework I helped her do. But three weeks later, no money yet. She does, however, call me telling me that she needs help with her econ homework once more. It's once again overdue and she needs a good grade. Would I be willing to help her? Sure, I say. She asks me to meet her in a coffee shop downtown after both of us are off work.

We meet downtown, and we start to do her homework. What do we have here? A chapter about John Maynard Keynes. I shake my fist at the book.

"Keynes, my old arch-enemy, we meet again!" Shirley looks puzzled. I grin. "Neoclassical economist humor. Never mind."

There are equations about how inflation effects real wages. I show her how to do the math. What's a price-index and how does it relate to consumption? How does the consumption multiplier work in Keynesian deficit-spending? There are essay questions in her homework, and I help her write answers. Stuff like "what causes deflation, and what are ways of getting-out of a deflationary cycle?" or "Find issues illustrating Modigliani's theories in the real world using three original examples." Over a 2-hour period we finish her overdue homework.

Afterwards I get: "Thank you, NiceGuy. You're so smart!"

"No, no, I just read way too much of this stuff all day." I'm an econo-freak.

She packs-up her completed homework, and heads for home... but not before giving me a thank-you hug and assuring me that she'll pay me back soon.

I can't recall how many times I helped her in economics... maybe four times, I lost track. I helped her study for tests, but she typically didn't retain anything long enough to carry it back to the class-room. I suggested that she join a study-group among the other students in the class, but she says no. She doesn't really want to know any of the other students, and I do such a good job of tutoring her anyway. She ends-up dropping the class because she's doing badly on the tests. Oh, and could I be her tutor for her accounting class next semester?

No, I say, I'm no good at that. In all the accounting classes I've taken, I've never done well. That, and I don't want to do her schoolwork for her any more.

The Taxman Cometh

Well, being a tutor certainly didn't seem to have any effect on how fast she'll pay me back. But it's March of 2001, tax-time is coming-around. And it just so happens that I have a reputation as being a great tax-advisor. That's all I'm good for, apparently: not being a boyfriend, but doing homework and taxes. Oh, and sometimes people ask me to fix their computers. I did Miriam's taxes for her the previous year and I got her $700 back. This year, I get her a $400 refund. (My cousin asked me to do his taxes in March, 2002. This'll be interesting. I'll probably have to explain to him that weed is not a deductible expense.) For myself, I end-up paying about $2,000 in capital gains. (Bah!)

Sure enough, Shirley hears that I've gotten Miriam a nice refund. She calls me and asks me to show her how to do her taxes.

"Well, I can show you... I need you to bring all your forms." I tell her.

"Sure, I'll come over on Tuesday night, and I really want to learn how to do it myself. You're such a good teacher..."

So, I set-aside part of the evening for her. She comes-over looking tired and shagged-out from a long day at work and classes.

"I'm really sleepy." She yawns. "Ooh, I think I need to take a nap. Do you mind if I use your bed?" She takes-off her jacket- whoa- she looks like she's smuggling coconuts under that sweater! Holy crap, did they get bigger over the winter or something? Christ, I just want to reach-out and touch those plump things so badly!

"Phwah... sweet mother of... use my bed?" My throat suddenly went dry and my dick went 'toing!'. "May I please join you?" I asked. "Please??" I stepped towards her and put my hands on her shoulders. "I want to feel my arms around you..."

"Oh, NiceGuy!" She laughs. "You're such a kidder. You always know how to make a girl blush." She brushes past me into my bedroom.

I wasn't kidding. My hard-on was raging! I watch her butt go-off to bed. My God, those are going to be the happiest sheets on the block... but I clear my mind.

So, I'm not teaching her how to do taxes, apparently. I'm doing them for her. I sit-down at my coffee table. I get to work. She's got income from a few part-time jobs, so there are numerous forms I have to look-at. Since she's a student, she qualifies for some tuition, student insurance and scholarship deductions and such... but some of them are mutually-exclusive. I do some math and find a combination of deduction options that would maximize her refund. I need to go to the IRS web-site in order to download the appropriate forms for certain deductions. I log-on to my computer in my bedroom. Shirley is lying on my bed under the covers in the foetal position.

I go to the web-site and start tapping and clicking. "Lessee... Schedule-B Form...? Nope, that ain't it..."

"NiceGuy?" She asks, sleepily.

"Hmm?"

"Could you keep it down a little?" Sorry. Sheesh.

I type softly.

I print-out the forms, go back to my coffee-table and fill out all the papers. I look at the size of her refund... hokey smokes, Bullwinkle!

I rub my eyes and check my math. $1,361. Good golly, Miss Molly! That's plenty enough to pay me the $200 she owes me. Well, she has to pay $272 in state taxes, but that can be easily covered.

I nudge her and hand her the completed forms in their envelopes.

"Here ya go." She yawns and stretches.

"What's my refund?"

"Well, including how much you need to pay in state taxes, you get about $1,100. Merry Christmas."

She squeals excitedly and gives me a big hug.

"Ohhh thank you! That's great! Oh, now I can afford to pay you what I owe you!"

Yes. One hopes.

Three months later

I haven't been paid-back. In fact, whenever I bring-up the subject, Shirley kind of acts a little offended.

"You know, NiceGuy, I thought you were my friend! Friends don't distrust one another as you distrust me. I'm very disappointed in you."

"Well, what about your refund?" I ask. "It's June, and it should've come-in by now."

"It hasn't come in yet."

"I don't believe you. Everyone in the country has gotten their refund. Why haven't you?"

"I'm telling you the truth! I've called the IRS and asked them about it. I can't get any information out of them."

I don't believe her. She might be telling the truth, but I just don't believe her. But still, I feel bad for being accused of being a bad friend, so I don't bring-up the topic very often. Ugh.

Vacations are Best on NiceGuy's Dime

So, in late May 2001, Miriam and Shirley go on vacation to Florida together. (Yeah, I have no clue where Shirley could've possibly gotten the money for a vacation.) I can't call her on this, because she'll just play dumb or accuse me of being a jerk. Sigh. Really, I have no idea how she can plead poverty, yet go on vacation the next month- I strongly suspect that she used the very same money that my effort salvaged from the taxman, but she denies this and I have no way of proving it. (I later found-out that she borrowed some money from Miriam to cover at least part of the cost of the vacation, so it's possible that her tax refund genuinely didn't arrive.)

In the middle of their vacation, I get a call from Miriam on my cell phone.

"Hi, NiceGuy?"

"Hey there. How's Florida?"

"Oh, I'm loving it! And you should've come with us, the women are gorgeous down here!" I scoff inwardly. Like a gorgeous girl would really go for me. Miriam tells me about how all the sexy Latin guys down there are going totally ga-ga over them. Well, Miriam is very pretty, so that's not surprising. And Shirley can stretch-out a bikini very nicely, it seems from the photographs I saw afterwards. So they're both feeling like two pieces of hot-stuff.

"Listen... um... I need to ask you a really big favor?" She says.

"Okay, what?"

"Well, my paycheck was supposed to be deposited into my account this week, and it seems to not have happened... so we're running a little short on cash down here. Could you help us out?"

For Miriam? Anything! Miriam is trustworthy. And she has a steady job. Sure thing.

"Well, how much?" I ask. What, $200? $300?

"About a thousand dollars?" Shit. I almost drop the phone. Are they running-low on caviar or something?

"Well... I can manage to give you maybe five-hundred dollars. That's all I can spare from my checking account. Is that okay?"

"Thank you! That's perfect!"

"How should I get it to you?" I sigh.

"Well, Shirley uses the same bank as you, right?"

"Uh, yes." Please don't say you're going to suggest that Shirley touch my money.

"Well she's standing right here next to me. You can transfer the money into her account... I'll put her on."

"No, wait... Isn't there some other way? I'd kind of like to keep Shirley out of this..."

"This'll be the fastest way. We kind of need it in a hurry." Shuffling noises.

"Hi, NiceGuy?" It's Shirley Moocher.

"Oh, hi." I grit my teeth and hold my forehead in my hand.

"Um, we're really sorry about this. It's all because Miriam's check didn't come in yet. So... we're running short of cash, and we need to pay for our hotel and rental car... just, Miriam didn't think that her check wouldn't come through on time..."

"Okay..." I sigh. "What's your account number?" I write it down.

"Thank you, NiceGuy! You're so nice!!" She trills.

"Now, look... I really need to get paid-back in a speedy fashion. I have to pay some major bills soon, and I can't afford to throw $500 out the window. And, since you still haven't paid back the $200 you owe me from March of 2000, you can understand why I'm leery."

"I said I'm sorry about that, my refund didn't come-in... we'll pay you back after we come back to town! Promise! Byeeeeee!"

"I really am trusting you to pay me back. I can't emphasize that enough. Got it? I'm only doing this for you because I don't want you guys to get stuck down there without any money. I trust you to pay me back soon. Not one year from now, but sooner than- hello? Hello?" I whap the phone with the heel of my hand. "Hello?!"

Miriam is suddenly back on the phone.

"Thank you so, so much! You're soooooo nice!! Smooches! Byebye!" Yeah, yeah. I'm doing this for Miriam. If Miriam wasn't with Shirley, I'd have told Shirley to piss-off... politely, of course. They're using their extra-sugary voices on me; I think I'm getting a cavity.

Three months later

I don't get paid back. Miriam disavows all responsibility for my money because it's been put into Shirley's account. Miriam says that she hasn't touched it, so it's not her responsibility. At the same time, Miriam sympathizes with me because she feels largely responsible for this (which she sort of is). Shirley says she can't pay me back because she has no money, period. Shirley, by the way, owes Miriam a big chunk of change too. She claims she can't pay me back because she owes Miriam money, and tells Miriam she can't pay her back because she owes me money. It's a nice excuse, but it can't last forever.

Once my dough was transferred to Shirley's account, it got scattered to the four winds. I might as well have thrown it out the window, used it to kindle my fireplace, or given it to a hobo. The hobo would probably have appreciated it more.

One night, Miriam and Dan invite me-out to go clubbing. Shirley tags-along. I'm irritated at her, but I don't bring-up the topic because I don't want to be a jerk and ruin the evening. Besides, she's wearing this red dress that makes her look ex-traw-din-ree!

I'm at the bar trying to get a drink. The bartender has a big crowd of people waiting for drinks and I've been waiting for at least five or ten minutes. I'm waving a $10 bill to get his attention. Shirley walks-up to the bar and gets to order a margarita- while I'm still waiting for service. Hell, why won't the bartender serve me? I've been standing here longer than Shirley. Shirley Moocher just walks right-up with her boobs falling-out the top of her dress, and the bartender immediately serves her. Do I need to fire-off a starting-pistol or grow a pair of tits to get some attention? Hellooooo?

Shirley checks her purse. "Oops, I think I left my wallet at home... NiceGuy? Sorry. I hate it when I do this to you..."

As I put a $10 bill into her hand, I am rapidly becoming furious, but I don't show it. Seriously, I need to do something about this. Me asking politely to be paid back hasn't worked. Hmm... maybe I should start playing hardball?

Time for the Heavy Artillery

My company makes an announcement: sales have slowed. Nationwide, about 1,400 people have to go. All of the departments have to make recommendations for what staff needs to be trimmed. I'm told that I have four weeks of paid leave in which to find a new job.

Gee, when the CEO got booted last year, he got $20 million and a lifetime of free health insurance. I get four weeks' notice and a plastic bag to clean-out my desk. This stinks. Maybe I'll go blow-up the building... *mumble* weaken the structure... *mumble*

Two days later, I go jogging in the park with Miriam and Dan. All weekend, I'm sending-out resumes all over town, but I need a break. I need to forget my troubles. I almost never jog, so this is an unusual thing for me to do. I normally don't jog because I'm too lazy. I admit it. Lazy.

Dan doesn't like Shirley very much, because... well... Dan thinks Shirley's a simpleton who doesn't know how to handle money. Funny that he reached that conclusion independent of me. I know I can play to his biases.

I'm talking to Dan as we jog... Miriam is rollerblading about 10 feet ahead, so she can overhear me.

"So, I'm thinking of taking Shirley to small-claims court." I say, a little louder than normal.

"How does that work?" Dan asks.

"Well, I have all the documents that show I've transferred a total of $700 to Shirley. And Miriam can be my witness if I need one. Basically, I go to the court, lodge a complaint, and they send Shirley an order to appear in court. I'm going to sue her for the amount I gave her. No more, no less."

"Well, you've got to do what you've got to do." Dan says. "I mean, you've given her plenty of time to pay you back, and she hasn't."

Miriam slows-down a bit for us to catch-up.

"I think Shirley has been lying to you about how she can't pay you back. She went shopping the other day. But if you take her to court, she'll get really mad at you. I don't think she'll talk to you again."

"I can live with that. It's nothing personal, just business. I can't wait any longer because my company is about to lay me off and the job market is flooded with unemployed people. I need the money back soon, that's one month's worth of rent that I've given her." This was, of course, a bluff. I really hate the idea of litigating. I just want the message to get back to Shirley that I can unleash some legal hurt on her; I'm positive Miriam will say something about it the next time she sees Shirley.

That night, I get a phone call from Miriam.

"Hi, I just wanted to call you to say that I think you're right to be upset at Shirley. I think you should get tough with her."

"Well, I intend to. I'm going to file a claim in court tomorrow. I know she owes you money, too... perhaps you'd like to file a joint lawsuit?" She doesn't go for this idea, but she really believes that I'm going to do it.

The Next Day

I get a phone call. It's Shirley. She sounds sheepish.

"Hi... um... NiceGuy?"

"Yessssss?"

"I'd like to start paying you back the money I owe you... I mean, I don't have very much, so I was thinking that I could give you $50 out of my paycheck every two week. Is that okay?"

"You get your paycheck every two weeks... so that'll be twenty-eight weeks before you pay me the full $700. I'm afraid that's a little slow for my liking..."

"Well, I wish I could pay you back, but as I said, I don't really have a lot of money to give you. If I could, I would."

"Oh, indeed, I know you would if you could. What with all the tutoring and tax advising I've given you..." I sigh. Well, that's better than nothing. "Fine. If you could give me fifty dollars every two weeks, that would be okay. I understand that you have bills to pay."

"I can't say how sorry I am... and I wanted to thank you for being so patient. You know, if you were to take me to court or something, I'd be really really pissed at you."

I chuckle. "Oh Shirley, I would never do anything so vindictive as take you to court." I grin, evilly.

Over a six-week period, I get $150 back. Then, there's a two month period in which she stops making payments. She had unexpected expenses to take care of she says. Car repairs, medical bills, she can't afford to give me anything... and her tax refund still hasn't come-in she says. I don't think I'll be doing her taxes again.

What can she give me? Apologies. Lots of them. She's sorry that she can't pay me back. She says that I've always been so good to her, and I've always helped her out and she's feeling bad that she can't do anything to help me. Bleah. Maybe I should grab her by her ankles, hold her upside-down and shake the change from her pockets?

Over the Last Month

Then, I get a job offer in Japan. I call her to inform her that I'm leaving town and I expect to be paid-back before I leave. And since I've been laid-off, I could really use the money. I squeeze another $200 out of her in two weeks, and she says she'll pay the remaining $350 by October 30th. I make her promise to do so.

"You can count on me!" She says. "Cross my heart."

It's October 30th, 2001. The big day. I call her at work.

She says: "Hi... um, it's looking like I won't be able to pay you the full amount on October 30th." Why am I not surprised?

"Is that so?" I am irritated.

"It's just that I've had to pay for car maintenance, and I can't afford to give you the whole $350."

"Well then, what do you suggest?"

"Um... I can give you $100 today, and then divide the rest between my next two paychecks. Is that okay?"

"Six weeks?" Do I have a choice? No, I don't. I sigh. "Yes, that's fine." I bet that 2 weeks from now, there will be yet other surprise expenses that she'll have to pay...

Anyways... this experience taught me a valuable lesson: never loan money outside the family, especially not to a woman and definitely not to a bimbo. Hell, in fact, never even start-off being generous to a bimbo, because as time goes-on, she might try to weasel every freebie she can, and it just aint worth it. Now matter how good she looks in a sweater.

(P.S.: When I get paid-back in full, I'll post it here... In the days since October 30th, she has used multiple excuses to not pay me back. And she has tried to put guilt-trips on me for even bringing-up the topic: "It's like you don't trust me at my word; that hurts my feelings." She says. Well, I don't trust her at her words because she's demonstrated that her words are worth precisely shit! Tell me: why the hell did I ever loan money to a chick with a room-temperature IQ??)

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"Nine men out of ten would be quite happy, I believe, if there were no women in the world, once they had grown accustomed to the quiet." -- H. L. Mencken, "In Defense of Women" (1922)

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