- It’s a joke, right?, she said.
- No, Betty. I’m dead serious, I replied.
- Wait, let me get this right: is this an ultimatum?
- Call it as you want. All I know is that I am desperate. I want you to be mine, RIGHT NOW.
- Listen, Pascal. I like you a lot, but I can’t have two boyfriends at the same time. For now, I’m with Peter and I have no intention of breaking up with him. Good night.

She hung up immediately. I was shocked, I wasn’t expecting this: I thought our friendship was important. I thought she would at least take a couple of days to think about it before making such an important decision. No, Betty was true to herself, completely unpredictable.

I knew my approach was very risky: it was a “make or break” strategy. Unfortunately for me, things did not happen as I had hoped. Not only I lost a friend, but I alienated the only girl I love. I ruined my life
in just a couple of minutes.

That night, I couldn’t find sleep. My heart was broken and, on top of that, I had no one to talk to. I kept tossing and turning in my bed, imagining Betty making love with Peter. That thought alone was torturing me.

The next day, I decided to call Betty. The most important thing was to save (at least) the friendship. She picked up the phone with little enthusiasm.

- What do you want?, she asked me.
- I just want to apologize. Yesterday evening, my attitude was unforgivable, I’m really sorry, I said.
- Yeah, you really acted like a fool, she said.
- Uh… Betty… Usually, I don’t issue apologies because it is quite difficult for me to swallow my pride. Believe it or not, I am making a lot of efforts right now. So, instead of insulting me, you should support me.

She smiled.

“I can never stay mad at you forever. You’re my best friend. You and me, it’s for life”.

Truer words have never been uttered. 6 years later, despite the miles between us, our friendship is still very strong. We talk regularly on the phone. She is now a doctor in the United States. Her professional life is a success, but her personal life is a “disaster”, she claims. Despite her many qualities, Betty is still single.

She is fast approaching thirty, she would love to have children as quickly as possible, but Betty hasn’t found her soulmate yet: She is still looking for the “perfect guy”. Unfortunately for her, there is no such thing as the “perfect guy” and that’s the reason why Betty and her “successful” friends are all single.

Whenever I talk with her on the phone, she always says: “Pascal, I screwed up. You’re a nice guy, I’m sure you and I would have made a wonderful couple”.

I reply: “Listen, Betty. I like you a lot, but I can’t have two girlfriends at the same time. For now, I’m with Mary and I have no intention of breaking up with her.”

“Her reaction was surprising, she looked like a thief who got caught red handed”. Right now, I’m super excited. I am telling my friend Mark the events of yesterday without omitting details: I want him to fully
grasp what happened

- Are you insinuating that she wanted to kiss you, he asks me.
- Yes, I reply.
- I hate to be the bearer of the bad news, but I think Betty is just not that into you.
- Why do you say that?
- She does not want you to hurt so she made you believe she didn’t kiss you because her boyfriend was there.
- Oh yeah?
- If she wanted to kiss you, she would have done it. When a woman wants something, she always gets it.
- Shut up!

Mark is probably right, but I do not want to hear that right now. We quickly change the subject because he’s noticed that I am starting to get irritated.

But before proceeding with the story, I think we need to have a little flashback.

Betty and I are on the dancefloor. I whisper to her ear: “I love you. I’m not in love with Mary, I’m in love with you”. She smiles. I hold her tighter. My lips are inches away from hers. I close my eyes, I’m about to kiss her when suddenly she says: “Shit, my boyfriend is here.”

I turn around and I see Betty’s boyfriend. He looks like a NFL player. I want to beat him up, but I am aware that if I ever try to fight with him, he will send me into a coma in less than two seconds.

- Pascal, here is Peter, says Betty.

He looks at me straight in the eye and then he shakes my hand firmly. I feel like he is trying to crush my knuckles.

- I heard a lot about you, he says.
- That’s funny, I’ve never heard about you, I reply.

Judging by the look on her face, Betty doesn’t appreciate my last comment. I’m drunk which means that I don’t control myself anymore.

The two lovebirds are beginning to dance together and they are makingout on the dancefloor. It is making me sick. I down a couple of drinks then, I decide to go home. I take my coat and I bump into Sharon, Betty’s friend.

- You’re leaving without saying goodbye?, she asks me.
- I’m going home, I am not feeling well, I reply.

A stupid idea crosses my mind. Why not take Sharon home with me? She’s always had a crush for me. If I sleep with her tonight, Betty is not going to be mad and I will get my revenge. Nah! I’m 22, I’m too old to
play these silly games. I need to stop manipulating people, I need to grow the fuck up.

I say goodbye, but before leaving I give her a warm hug and I bite her ear tenderly (one of my exes told me ears are an erogenous zone for some women). Don’t ask me why I did it. I’m drunk, I don’t control
myself anymore. She smiles, it means that she likes it.

- Why did you do that?, she asks me.
- It’s my way of complimenting pretty girls. I hope you are not offended.
- No, no, I’m just surprised.

I smile. “With Pascal, always expect the unexpected. I gotta go, good night.”

Flash forward: 24 hours later, I’m meditating, the phone in my hand.Finally, I decide to call Betty.

-Hello, Betty
- Hi Pascal
- How are you doing?
- I am a little tired. By the way, you left without saying goodbye yesterday. What was that all about?
- I got tired of watching you kissing your boyfriend. You should be a little more sensitive towards my feelings. You know damn well that I love you, but that does not stop you from kissing your boyfriend in
front of me. I am a little disappointed by your attitude.
- You say you love me, but that doesn’t prevent you from flirting with Sharon.
- Sharon is crazy about me. If I wanted to sleep with her, I would have done it.

(Editor’s note: You’ve probably noticed it: I will never change. My arrogance will kill me).

- That’s not what she told me. She told me that you bit her ear and you kept the complimenting her the whole night. You probably wanted to sleep with her, but she told me she is not interested in being your “backup plan” .
- The bitch is lying … Anyway, I didn’t call to talk about Sharon. Last night, something happened: Is it just me or were we about to kiss?
- I don’t know …

Obviously, Betty doesn’t want to talk about it. Maybe, she is unable to talk about it because she is chilling with Peter right now. I don’t give a fuck, I have to get to the bottom of this. I insist.

-Did you want me to kiss you?
- Maybe
- No means no, maybe means yes.

She remains silent. I continue.

- Betty, I love you and last night taught me one valuable lesson: I can not be your friend. I can’t stand to see you with another man. I want you to be my girlfriend. If you want to keep me in your life, you
have to break up with your boyfriend.

“She can leave, I don’t care”, these were my exact words just after listening to the message. The truth is that I feigned indifference, but I was deeply affected by this sad news. I am losing my best friend. Betty is one of the main people who listens to me without judging me: She is my main confidant.

When a man has problems, he can’t talk about it with another man. Why? Because men in general, lack empathy and they are very poor listeners. After explaining your problem, the typical man will always tell you phrases such as “it’s not that serious”, “Life goes On”, “fuck it, move on”.

Basically, he is telling you that your problem is not that important and sometimes, some dudes say stuff like “you’re talking about your girls problems while in Somalia, there are children dying of hunger.”

I never talk about my problems with another man. When I’m with my guy friends, we only talk about rap and sports. We are always arguing about who is the best MC: Jay-Z, Biggie or Nas? Basically, our conversations are very superficial.

Life is full of ups and downs and when we are going through a rough patch, we need someone to listen to us. In recent months, I have experienced difficult times. I lost my starting spot in the university soccer team. It was a painful moment for me: I was not used to put my ass on the bench. We had changed coaches and I lost my star status: in a short time, I went from hero to zero. My oversized ego took a huge blow. During that period of self doubt, Betty was by my side and I think it’s at that very moment that I fell madly in love with her. Before her, all my friends were guys. Betty came into my life and she was able to fill a void.

Today, my best friend is telling me that she is leaving. I’m torn: I want to call her to talk. But I don’t want to do that because I am still mad at her: That bitch broke my heart. Finally, I decided not to call her. However, I contacted her friend Sharon to tell me where the party at. The D-Day, I show up at the club.

- I did not know you were coming, said Betty when she saw me.

She is smiling at me and she is drop dead gorgeous. In my heart, I’m still bitter as fuck, however, I don’t want to spoil the party so I avoid making disparaging remarks.

- You’re beautiful tonight, I said.
- Thank you, she replied.
- Let me buy you a drink.

I turned around and I ordered half dozen shots of tequila. My goal is to get her drunk. I am convinced that when she will be drunk, she will eventually recover her senses and she will finally understand that I am the man that she needs in her life.

- Where is your boyfriend?, I asked her.
- He is home, he is watching the Nuggets game. When the match is done, he will come.
- The basketball game is more important than his girlfriend, apparently.
- Pascal, stop.
- Yeah, let’s stop talking, let’s go dance.

We empty our glasses and we head to the dance floor. We start dancing and it reminds me of our very first meeting. You know me, my level of tolerance to alcohol is very low, I’m already drunk.

- Betty, I have something I need to confess, I said.
- I’m listening.

I whisper to her ear: “I love you”. She stood still for 30 seconds. She looks confused: I think she is wondering if it’s me talking or the booze. “I’m not in love with Mary, I’m in love with you”. I had to say it again to let her know that I am dead serious and that I mean every single word I say. She smiled. I hold her tighter. My lips are inches away from hers. I close my eyes, I’m about to kiss her when suddenly she says: “Shit, my boyfriend is here.”

Betty came back to Toronto. She has to prepare for her final exams. She’s been away for two weeks so she has a lot of catching up to do. We’ve met very briefly.

Me too, I am pretty busy. This is my last semester, I am working extra hard: I am trying to get the Magna Cum Laude distinction. Oh! You are surprised? You thought I was just a moron who spends his life running after girls? Don’t be fooled, I am also a brilliant student.

Throughout the month of April, Betty and I are communicating by SMS. We are super busy. As soon as my exams are done, I decide to call her.

- So what are you doing tonight?
- I’m going to my friend’s house to watch a movie, she says.
- Who is it?
- You don’t know him.
- Oh, you’re going to a guy’s house? At 9 PM? To watch a movie?
- Yes
- Are you sleeping with him?

Betty does not answer the question. He who remains silent, gives consent.

- How long have you been sleeping with him?
- It’s been a week, she says.

Betty has just struck a dagger in my heart. The pain I feel is indescribable.

- But I thought you loved me, I said.
- I changed my mind. I think it’s better that we stay friends. If we start dating, it will complicate our relationship and I don’t want to lose our friendship: it’s precious.
- If you continue to say stupid things like that, you will lose it permanently.

Suddenly, I am aggressive. You know, women, when they are hurt, they cry. Men, when they suffer, they become violent.

- I understand your disappointment, but you can not blame me, she continues. We’ve known each other for 6 months. Many times you’ve had the opportunity, but you’ve never tried to kiss me.
- Oh yeah?
- Several times, I wanted you take me in your arms and to kiss me, but you’ve never done it. You know why?
- Why?
- Because you’re still in love with Mary.

Once again, Mary has ruined my life. I am depressed by the news that Betty just told me.

- And you, why didn’t you kiss me?
- Pascal, I’m a girl. The guy is supposed to take the first step.

Amazing how women contradict themselves constantly. They want to rule the planet, but they lack the balls to take initiatives. They still have that “waiting attitude”.

- So what is his name?
- Peter, she replied
- Where does he come from?
- Liberia

I’m so disappointed, I decide to interrupt the conversation abruptly. I pull with violence the poster of George Weah which was above my bed. Fuck Liberia! Never have I ever hated a country as much.

I am losing my mind. I go to my computer. Michael Jackson is my favourite singer, but I can no longer listen to his song Liberian Girl. I immediately delete it from my computer.

It’s getting late, but I’m too angry to sleep. I need do to do something. Mary is still mad at me so I can not call her. I’ll have to content myself with Jennifer: she is less beautiful than Mary, but hey, I can not be choosy right now.

- Hello, Jennifer.
- Hello, Pascal, what do you want?, she asked in a very aggressive tone.
- I just want to talk with you, I answered.
- Cut the bullshit. You just want to sleep with me. That’s why you call.

Damn, this chick is not stupid. She knows my intentions.

- Why are you so aggressive?, I ask her
- Listen, Pascal. Stop wasting my time. I gotta go, my boyfriend is waiting for me.

She hangs up. I’m stunned. Jennifer has a boyfriend? Who is the idiot who is dating her? She is not an ugly girl, far from that. Jennifer is actually a very beautiful lady. The only problem is that she is pretty loose and that’s the main reason why I never wanted to date her. She was crazy in love with me but I was never interested because I just can’t trust her: she has slept with half of the men on campus. It’s crazy!

This is probably the worst evening of my life. Even Jennifer doesn’t want me. My self esteem is at an all time low. I decide to watch my favourite cartoon: The Boondocks. At least them, they won’t let me down, they’ll cheer me up. I am sipping on my hennessy, eating some chips and I fall asleep peacefully.

The next day, my phone rings. I look at the caller ID: it’s Betty. I don’t pick up the phone. I have a huge migraine. The poster of George Weah is torn on the ground. The events of yesterday were not a nightmare, unfortunately. I take some aspirin, then I head to the shower. After I’m done, I finally decide to listen to the message that Betty has left on my answering machine.

- Hi, Pascal! I know you’re mad at me, but I just wanted to tell you that I am leaving Ottawa for good. I’m going to Toronto to get closer to my brother. Next week, we are organizing a farewell party. I really want you to come. Take care.

I am speechless. Each day that passes, Mary is getting more and more beautiful. It’s amazing!

- Don’t just stand there, take off your shoes and your coat, she ordered me.
- Why did you put a camisole? (a very sexy camisole, at that!)
- Uh, I was getting ready for bed. I have class tomorrow at 8am.
- You go to bed at 9 pm when you have a class at 8AM?
- You know, I’m lazy. I love sleeping and please stop looking at me like that. You are making me feel uncomfortable, she added.
- If you hadn’t put indecent clothes, I wouldn’t be looking at you lustfully, I said.
- Whatever, man

Mary’s apartment is small, but super tidy. Mary loves cleanliness and decoration is her forte. When she left me, my apartment took a toll: our beautiful home became a slum within a week. Mary and I are diametrically opposed. I am a fat slob who cleans his house every February 29th. Mary is the kind of person who does the housework every day.

What a lovely evening! The lasagna is excellent. Her apartment smells good. Knowing that I would visit her, Mary put a few drops of perfume on her body. Knowing me very well, she chose my FAVORITE scent: Anais by Cacharel.

Maxwell’s songs are playing in the background. Woman’s Work, Fortunate… These songs are creating a truly romantic atmosphere. I am eating my lasagna while looking at Mary’s long legs. Yup, you got that right: at the moment, all my senses are awake and alert and I have only one desire: make babies.

Unfortunately, my conscience is trying to ruin the moment. A real killjoy! Gradually, I start thinking about Betty and her brother in the hospital.

My mind is telling me no, but my body… my body’s telling me yes. It is a true battle: mind vs body. This is the civil war: the north against the south. Unfortunately for Betty, the South won the battle.

Mary is irresistible: Everyone succumbs to her charm. Sleeping with her was not the mistake. The real mistake I made was going to her apartment, thinking that I would be strong enough to resist temptation.

I wanted revenge, I wanted to turn her down because I wanted to prove to her (and to myself) that I can live without her. Unfortunately, the flesh is weak. As she approached me, I cracked.

- Pascal, I have a little secret for you, Mary said to me moments before our tumble in the sheets.
- I’m listening, I replied.
- Walls have ears, she said, in a seductive voice.

With a knowing smile, the smile of a conqueror, she came closer to me and whispered in my ear: “I want you to make love to me”. Then, she began kissing my neck, my cheeks, my lips.

Three hours later, I’m awake. My conscience doesn’t want to let me sleep. I keep thinking about Betty. I look at Mary, she sleeps soundly. I need to get out of here, I must go home. The truth is that during our frolics, I kept thinking of Betty. I just made a great discovery: I am in love with Betty. Right now, I just want to talk to Betty. I miss her a lot and I want to hear her voice.

I pull my jeans on in the dark. After looking around for a bit, I turn on the light because I can not find my socks. Mary wakes up.

- What are you doing? she asked me.
- I’m going home, I said.
- It’s getting late. Come to bed, baby. You go will home tomorrow morning.
- Mary, I want to go home now. You’re a great girl, but I just realized that I don’t love you anymore.

Mary is shocked. I put on my coat quickly. I know I hurt her and I hate to see her cry, but I’ve already made my decision and I’m not going to change my mind just to make her happy. I leave the apartment immediately without saying goodbye. I call a taxi. As soon as the cab arrives, I get into the car and I call Betty on the spot.

- Hello, she said
- Sorry to wake you up, but I really needed to hear your voice. I tried to call you several times during the day without success.
- I’m glad you called me. I wanted to tell you something.
- I’m listening.
- You’re a wonderful guy. During this whole ordeal, your help has been precious. I will be eternally grateful.
- Well, right now, I need a new liver. Mine is messed up, I drink too much alcohol. Can you lend me yours?

She smiled.

- All jokes aside, if you ever need anything, call me.
- Okay
- I love you.

Betty has never complimented me so much. Why is she doing that today? Why did she wait for me to sleep with Mary to confess her love for me? Right now, she probably thinks I’m the perfect guy. If only she knew…

Betty and I are inseparable. She adores me except when I call her Mary by accident. I’ve already made that mistake a couple times. Saying that she did not appreciate it is an understatement. Last time I did it, she poured water on my face. Don’t blame me, old habits die hard. It’s funny: Our relationship is really ambiguous. Betty and I behave
like a couple, but we are not.

Betty is pissing me off royally: all her friends are guys. Every time she goes to the movies with her guy friends, I’m livid. “Pascal, I’m not your girlfriend”, she says to me every time I throw one of my infamous temper tantrums.

She has a friend, his name is Robert. I can’t stand that dude. Robert is 40, he has a wife and two children. He is an accountant at a big company. Betty is always going on dates with him. Although she thinks Robert is “extremely attractive”, Betty swears there is nothing going on between them.

- Why is Robert always inviting you? Doesn’t he have a woman? Why is he neglecting her?

Every time Betty comes back from her dates, she has to answer my “psycho” questions. “His wife is never home. Because of her job, she travels constantly”, she replies. I’m skeptical. Robert looks like a perv’, I don’t trust him. “Oh my god! Pascal, you’re so possessive”, she tells me everytime.

One day, while I’m at home watching a NBA game with my homies, my phone rings. I look at the caller ID: I do not recognize the number. I hesitate before answering. Sport is like a religion for me and I do not like to be disturbed during the “Mass”. Angered by the tone, I finally decide to pick up the phone.

- Hello, said the voice at the other end.
- Hello, who is this?

I don’t have time for politeness formulas. I am eager to end the conversation as soon as possible. I have a basketball game to watch.

- You do not recognize my voice?, she asks.

Damn! It’s Mary! Why is she calling me?

- Happy anniversary, she says.
- …
- You forgot that January 29th is our anniversary?

Bitch, what are you talking about? We are no longer together. I wanted to say that to her face, but mama raised me right. I am gentleman: I don’t have the balls to utter such rude words to a woman.

- No, no, I haven’t forgotten. Happy anniversary to you too, I said.
- Listen, I have to go. I know that the Lakers are playing. I don’t want to disturb you.

She hangs up. I save her number. Deep down inside, I know it’s a mistake to do that, but you know me by now, I love doing stupid things: I can’t help it.

Of course, I omitted to mention that little incident to Betty. I didn’t want to have another argument. When I was with Betty, I avoided pronouncing the name: Mary. Instead of saying “I love Mary J Blige’s new album”, I said: “I love MJB’s new album. Whenever the name “Mary” was coming out of my mouth, there was a fight.

Our platonic relationship was going well until the day she learned that her brother who lives in Toronto was involved in a serious car accident. She hopped in the first bus to Toronto and left me in Ottawa.

Thank God, her brother was safe. He had broken some ribs, but he was still alive. During these difficult times, Betty and I talked regularly on the phone for hours. I tried to support her the best I could and I behaved like a true friend. I put aside my self-centeredness, and I discovered that there is some altruism buried deep inside of me. I even sent some flowers to Betty. Can you believe that shit? I’m sure Robert did not even call her. He doesn’t care about her, all he wants is to get in her pants. Sucker!

Betty’s been gone for a week. I really miss her. She is my best friend and when she is not around, I’m bored to death. Today, I tried to call her a few times, but I fell directly on the voicemail. I guess her phone is dead.

Given that the number of Betty is saved in my phone under the name “Malcolm X” (Betty Shabbazz was Malcolm X’s wife), the next name in my directory is… Mary. I hesitate before calling. Finally, I decide to call her. What the fuck do I got to lose? The phone rings. My heart is pounding.

- Hello, I said shyly
- Hey Pascal!, she replied.

Mary is really excited to talk to me. It seems like she’s been waiting for my phone call forever.

– What are you doing tonight?, she asks
- Uh … nothing
- I’m making a lasagna. If you’re hungry, you can come over.

Mary knows me too well. She knows that I am sucker for lasagnas. Why refuse the invitation? Right now, I’m STARVING. After all, Betty and I are just friends. I’m just going to eat at Mary’s apartment. I don’t see anything wrong with that.

I accept the invitation. Mary gives me her address. I put on my shoes and my coat. It is 8 o’clock. Thirty minutes later, I’m at her apartment. I knock on the door. Mary opens. She is dressed in a baby doll and she looks like this. Damn, I’m fucked: I think I’m in trouble. But, it’s too late to back pedal: I have reached the point of no return. I enter in her apartment…

Nowadays, my motto is: “Player for life!” The truth is that I’m sad and I’m very lonely. I have replaced love with sex, and happiness with pleasure.

I really hope that Betty is Ms Right. I hope she is going to change things in my life. It’s already been more than a year since Mary left. It is time for me to flip the page and to start a new chapter.

Brunch with Betty went pretty well. She and I, we never agree therefore, we always have very passionate conversations. I think Betty has a very Manichean view of things. In my opinion, she is stuck in the 60s. She has a very “black panther” mentality (FYI: her parents gave her that name to pay homage to Betty Shabbazz, the wife of Malcolm X). She thinks that white people are the sole ones responsible for the misfortunes of Africa.

Me, I think our destiny is in our hands and we must stop looking for scapegoats to justify our failures. Yes, I am among those who prefer to read the horoscope instead of history books. What happened in 1950 does not interest me. What interests me is the future.

I think today, we are very fortunate because we live in a meritocracy. Despite the high level of melanin in my skin, I know I can be who I wanna be if I work hard at it. Word to Nas!

Betty obviously does not share my opinion. She and I, we always have heated arguments. It’s a habit of ours: we fight, she sulks, and then we reconcile.

It feels good to be around a girl like that. Our discussions are varied as she has eclectic tastes. Betty watches ESPN, CNN and Discovery Channel. When I was with Mary, our conversations were always superficial. She was only interested in reality shows and Sex and the City. We talked constantly about Samantha’s libertine attitude and Carrie’s Manolo Blahniks. During that period, my IQ dropped drastically.

Betty and I are super close. I am her diary; she tells me everything, even her darkest secrets. When she was a teen, she was raped by her uncle. She has kept that secret for ten years and has never told anyone before. Me, I am dying to have sex with her but, since she has been traumatized by that incident, I don’t want to be too pushy.

Everyone on campus thinks that Betty and I are dating. The truth is, we have never kissed. I haven’t even tried to do that. Since my break up with Mary, I am afraid of love. Furthermore, my friendship with Betty is precious and I don’t want my uncontrolled and uncontrollable libido to spoil things.

One day, while I’m eating with Betty at KFC, guess who pops up? Mary! Damn, I’ve never felt so uncomfortable.

- Pascal Hi, how are you? It’s been a while, says Mary.

Man, I had forgotten how beautiful Mary is. I love Betty, but I must admit: Mary is more beautiful than her.

- I’m fine, I replied. By the way, this is Betty.
- She is beautiful; you have very good tastes, Pascal.
- Betty is just a friend. She is not my girlfriend.
- It’s a shame! You make a beautiful couple.

Betty, who was probably tired of listening to our stupid conversation, decides to leave.
- I must go to class, I have to leave you. Have fun, lovebirds.

She leaves and Mary takes her place. I am sitting in front of her and I don’t know what to say. I haven’t talked to her in a while and I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for ages. I had promised myself that next time we will meet, I would insult her copiously. Unfortunately, her pretty face is disarming me and I don’t have the balls to do it.

- So, how is Jeff?, I asked.
- I am no longer with him. We broke up last week.

Shit! All this time, I was convinced that I was in love with Betty. All of a sudden, things are different: I am not so sure anymore…

The next day, I wake up. Before going to the bathroom to take a shower, I sit in front of the computer. The first site I open? Facebook, of course!

I see that I have a new friend request. Who the hell is begging for friendship today? Surprise! Surprise! It’s Mary! Who is Mary? You don’t know Mary?

Well, Mary is the woman who made me the man I am today. I met her during my freshman year. Let’s take a walk down memory lane, shall we? Not so long ago, I was a rookie in the soccer team. I was the striker (Girls, if you are not familiar with soccer, just know that the striker’s sole purpose on the field is to score goals). Basically, the other players were doing all the dirty work and, I was the one reaping all the benefits. Life is unfair: don’t hate the player, hate the game.

To make a long story short, I was the star of the team. Of course, I had a huge amount of groupies. I was young, arrogant, undisciplined and I didn’t know how to handle fame. I was taking off my jersey whenever I scored a goal. The aim was to show off my abs. This ritual made girls hysterical.

I took many unnecessary yellow cards because of this stupid gesture. My coach wasn’t impressed at all by my immature behaviour but, I didn’t give a shit. “People have bought tickets to see a show. They want entertainment, I give it to them”, that’s what my arrogant ass kept telling him whenever he was complaining about me being the most conceited individual on the face of the planet.

I was acting that way because I knew damn well that the coach couldn’t live without me. I was the top scorer of the team for God sake.

The girls adored me. Obviously, I took full advantage of the situation. I was 18 and I was living alone on campus. I was free at last: I didn’t have to wait for my parents to be absent to bring girls in my room anymore. I didn’t discriminate: Black girls, White girls, Asian girls… So many colours in my bed, my sheets were nicknamed “rainbow”. LOL! Lame joke!

The first semester, I was the epitome of the male slut then, I stopped my whorish ways the day I laid my eyes on Mary. I met her in a political science course during the second semester. It was love at first sight! Since she was not very bright at school, she and I spent a lot of time together. I was helping her with her homework every night.

I fell in love with her and became a new man: Overnight, my attitude changed. At her request, I erased all the numbers of my “jump offs” from my cell phone.

Three months later, we decided to live together. “Pascal, you are going to live with her? You’re crazy”, that’s my friends kept telling me. But you know me, I never listen. I was in love with her, I had found the woman of my life and the mother of my children. I was happy.

Nine months later, she decided to end our relationship. “Pascal, I don’t love you anymore. The passion is dead”, that’s what Mary told me before leaving.

She left me and went to live alone. Why did she break up with me? I am still unable to answer that question. Mary had many flaws, but she wasn’t unfaithful. She never cheated on me. I know that for sure. There was no other man: After our “divorce”, she remained single for over a year.

Why did she go then? When I was with her, I treated like a princess. I offered her flowers every week, I was cooking for her on a daily basis, I complimented her constantly.

After a thorough analysis of the whole situation, I deduced that the reason for her departure was my weight. Indeed, 6 months earlier, during a football match, I had sustained a serious injury that sidelined me for fifteen weeks. During that period of intense inactivity, I gained a lot of weight. The love handles gradually replaced my legendary abs.

As soon as I drew that conclusion, I started hitting the gym like crazy. Forget soccer, I was too busy trying to get my old body back in order to reconquer the love of my life. What a waste of time and energy! Mary didn’t want to see me anymore. She changed her phone number and she consistently refused to reply to my e-mails.

A year later, my heart was broken again when I learned that Mary was dating Jeff. Jeff, I hardly know him. All I know is that dude is ugly and fat. How can you go from Pascal to Jeff? Everyone on campus was stunned. Mary had just made a serious downgrade. The worst thing is, I have learned, from reliable sources, that Jeff hits her. Poor girl!

Today, Mary wants to be my friend on facebook. That’s weird: when my heart was aching, she was nowhere to be found. Today, I am feeling a little bit better and she wants to reappear in my life. Hell No!

I decline her friendship request. My heart is still vulnerable: I know deep down inside, I’m still in love with her. But, I have to get away from her: I don’t want to have a relapse. I don’t want to live with someone so cruel anymore.

I turn off my computer and I go to the bathroom. Today, Betty and I are going to have brunch together. I am pretty excited! For some reason, whenever I think about Betty, I’m in a good mood. I start singing I Feel Good by James Brown. Oh, you didn’t know? I’m Luther Vandross in the shower, bitch!

Betty had probably seen it coming. She came to our date wearing a pair of jeans, a sweater with a hoodie and some Timbalands. She was unrecognizable.

The first two times we’d met, she was wearing amazing dresses. Today, she was rocking the tomboy look. Funny thing was, in spite of her best efforts, she could not look ugly or unattractive; she was simply effortlessly beautiful: no make-up or fancy hairstyle, just a smile and her engaging personality, and she charmed fellows miles away (but I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss those damn dresses! They had a way of getting my blood boiling that the Timbo boots just couldn’t quite do…).

Given that I’m a cool guy and I respect the unspoken “don’t talk at the movies” policy, we had arranged to meet at Starbucks to discuss before heading to the theatre. As usual, the conversation was pleasant, although I was kinda irritated that she kept talking about her ex. I guess it was her way to make me understand that she was not ready to commit. Mama didn’t raise no fool!Winning her over would take time and effort, but hey! Like most men, I love the challenge. If that evening she had succumbed to my charm, I probably would have lost all interest.

So the evening passed without a hitch: movie, Starbucks, lots of laughs and I took her home. At the door, I got a hug, instead of the kiss I was longing for. Given how the date had started and the talk about her ex, I wasn’t too surprised and wasn’t too disappointed either.

On my way home, my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID: it was Fred.
- Pascal, where are you?, he asked
- I am coming back from the movies, I was with Betty.
- I thought you didn’t like her! he exclaimed, almost accusingly.

I chuckled and rolled my eyes.
- We’re just friends
- So you’ve slept with her then? he asked, expectantly.

For a second, I hesitated: I wanted to lie to preserve my stud reputation. I mean, I can be a fine storyteller when I want to but I opted for the truth this time.

- Nah, I didn’t, I replied.

Guys face all kinds of peer pressure. When you’re a man, your reputation is built on the fights you’ve won, the things you have achieved and acquired… and the number of girls you have laid, espcially when you’re the college boy I was at the time. To be respected and admired, you better know how to use those fists and get that magic stick crackin’! The more, the better! True story! Of course, I have met several women since then who would define such sexual exploits as the extravagant lifestyle of unpaid man-whores, but all I have to say to them is this: live a little, will you! Go get some too!

Conclusion: Fred probably thought I was lame for not having sex with her. He was probably expecting me to depict a vivid picture of a raunchy sex moment with Betty, all plus sound effects and shit.

Every man has  a friend like that in his crew. Fred is the kinda guy who is always talking about sex. He loves watching porn, more so than the avaerage dude, loves listening to others’ sex stories but most of all, he likes lying. Everybody knows he is a virgin, but he keeps pretending that he is not. When I tell him a story, his lewd brain computes and memorizes everything. Next thing you know, he tells the same story, one detail after the other, to other people. The only thing he changes in the story is the name of the main character. Basically, he removes my name and puts his.
- Sorry, Fred. I have no story to tell you today, I said. It is not too late, you can always go to Blockbuster to rent some porn.
- Oh, fuck off, he replied.

He hung up. Just like that. Like I owed him something. Too tired to bother, I went to bed and thought back on my day. Why did I refuse to lie Fred? After all, I am a man without scruples. A couple of girls in high school can tearfully testify to having their reputations smeared because of me. Yes, it was a mean thing to do (Women out there, I am sure you have much less holy words to spit at me for my attitude), but it seemed fun at the time.

So why didn’t I just amuse poor Fred with another cocked up story? And then it hit me: I actually cared about Betty. Since my painful breakup with Mary, no girl had managed to have such an impact on me. My once dysfunctional heart was beating like a heart of flesh again.

So, yeah, I acted like a dick (pun intended) and who am I bullshitting? She was my type and it sucked being brushed off. Anyway, the city of Ottawa is really small so, I figured our paths would cross again sometime soon. My attitude during the evening had been unacceptable and I promised myself that, the next time we will meet, I would apologize.

As expected, I saw the girl at a party. She was sitting near the bar with a friend. I hesitated before going to talk to her. I wanted to buy her a drink, but I did not have enough money. I had a $ 20 note: this was not enough to pay three drinks (one for her, one for me and one for her girlfriend…). Note to all ladies: it’s all fine and dandy to hang out with your friends at a club, but you become unapproachable when you’re surrounded by your posse!

In spite of my financial woes, I took a deep breath and went in for the kill.
- You are not dancing today, I asked.

- No, I’m tired. In addition, the music is not good, she said with a smile, recognizing me. She turned on her stool to face me properly. Damn, she looked good and, hell yeah,  I was on top of my game, as usual!

(Her friend must have caught on to the vibes: my game was tight, her friend was safe with me and she was quite obviously the 3rd wheel in this club; she promptly disappeared for most of the night. Cudos to all women who do not cock-block!)

- By the way, my name is Pascal-Olivier
- I know. I’m Betty.

Editor’s Note: At the time, I was quite popular in the city of Ottawa. Girls nicknamed me The French Boy, because of my accent.

In my opinion, there is nothing more horrible than hearing a French guy speaking English with a heavy accent. All my life, I tried to get rid of that damn accent. I wanted to sound like Nas, the New York rapper. Unfortunately, all my efforts were in vain: I could not pronounce words like Americans and it was frustrating.

I had no idea that my accent was my charm. Apparently, the girls thought it was “exotic.” Often, the Lord gives us blessings and we, poor fools, try to get rid of them.

That night, Betty and I exchanged phone numbers. I realized she was not only a sexy kitten but also a very intelligent girl. We didn’t dance at all, too busy talking to each other, telling stories and jokes, laughing, in spite of the loud music.

Amazing, ain’t it? We were both in the night club and instead of dancing, we were talking. She told me about her life. She was studying medicine, her dream was to become a pediatrician. I wasn’t saying much, except for the occasional smooth line and joke. I was just listening, looking at her with admiring eyes: there’s nothing sexier than a smart woman. Note to all women: if you have nothing between your ears, you will be nothing but a sex object for men.
Corny as it may sound, that evening, instead of having a woman over in bed, I got a friend in my life. The next day, I was so impatient to see her again. I took my phone and I called:
- What are you doing tomorrow night? We can go see a movie, I suggested.
- Excellent idea! It will do me good, I’m a little stressed out right now because of the exams, she said.

Now, here’s the truth: usually, when I invite a chick to the movies, it’s not because I am dying to see the film. For me, the cinema is an ambush. It is where I devour my prey. In the darkness, one sees my real nature. As soon as the daylight disappears, I transform into a werewolf. Without realizing it, the poor girl had fallen into my trap. MOUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!