Scott Peterson is on death row for killing his pregnant wife, and he regularly gets marriage proposals from women on the outside.
Meanwhile, the only trouble I’ve ever gotten into was for doing 79 in a 45-mph zone and it still took me nearly a year to get a date when I lived in New York (a supposed utopia for singles).
What gives? As boys come of age, we are told “nice guys finish last” and “girls like bad boys.” Since the nice-guy routine often has landed me in last place, I’ve tried the not-so-nice routine.
In the end, badness isn’t really convincing when it comes from a skinny 5-foot-8 guy with a tendency to smile too much when he’s nervous. So, a long time ago, I decided despite the chance of ending up celibate for the rest of my life, I would begrudgingly live with the fact that I am cursed with niceness.
Then last month I got a call from Terri and Sue, two 40-something single women who said they needed my help in finding them bad boys. More specifically, they were looking for a certain breed of bad boy – The Harley guy.
As far as I can tell, Harley guys are bad for two reasons. First, their tattoos and facial hair and tendency to travel in packs scare people like me. And, second, they’re filling a void in modern America for badness.
There aren’t cowboys or old-time outlaws anymore, and even our anti-establishment rock and hip-hop stars are commercially packaged products rather than actual rebels. (Case in point: Will Smith was in a movie called “Bad Boys.” Even I’m badder than the Fresh Prince.)
Still, what attracts Terri and Sue – who are employed, attractive, nice, law-abiding taxpayers – to the bad side? “A bike turns your head. It’s exciting,” Sue says. “It’s symbolic of free spirit. The noise puts a smile on your face.”
And the guys? “A guy sitting on a bike is just, like, “Wow!”‘ Terri says.
Sue and Terri have gone to considerable lengths to snag themselves Harley men. They bring biker jackets, boots and helmets with them wherever they go, just in case the Harley knight sweeps them off their feet. They even posted “wanted” signs at Harley dealerships.
Still, they haven’t had luck. So one recent night I put on a pair of jeans and the only black T-shirt I own and the three of us went to Biker Night at a bar in Wilmington, Del.
I soon found out the typical Harley guy (please, don’t kill me) does not exactly have what is commonly thought of us as the perfect male body (seriously, please don’t kill me). From what I could tell from my field research at the bar, he often has a bit more – let’s call it “muscle” – around the waist region.
Terri and Sue don’t mind. They like the toughness that such a body type conveys. “It represents a person that has a sense of freedom, has a rebellious attitude and a fun attitude,” Sue says.
Terri and Sue described the Harley guy as someone who represents edginess and spontaneity, strength and passion. He has a chip on his shoulder and an attitude that is, apparently, sexy.
Unfortunately, we didn’t find any men for Terri and Sue that night. We talked to one Harley guy who had some badness to him (he smuggled his two very underage sons into the bar that night), but he also was married, which posed a slight problem.
So, Harley men, if you’re interested in Terri and Sue, they’re available. It’s OK and even encouraged if you have a few misdemeanors on your record.
As for Scott Peterson – sorry, buddy. But check back next week, when I write all you never wanted to know about the death-row singles scene.
