He rides up on his Harley in a black leather jacket and beckons me with the blaring honk of his horn. Did I mention he just narrowly escaped hitting the cat and has parked his beloved bike on my newly planted rose bushes? It's no matter, because he's hot! He's aloof, he's jaded, and he's mine. Well he's mine at least for the next couple of hours before he heads off for his 9PM date with my now ex-best friend Suzy. Sure I just spent 2 hours crying over him on your shoulder. Who are you? Well of course, you're the consummate guy pal. The one who'd never do me wrong. You're always there to lend a hand, or a tissue, and in the back of your mind, you wonder, "What in the hell does she see in this scum bag idiot on wheels? What does he have that I don't?"

Here lies a case of the female bad boy chaser! Think Grease (as in the movie). Think Rebel Without a Cause. We know they're not good for us, they'll love us and leave us, use us and abuse us, tease us and traumatize us…but we fall for them anyway. Perhaps it's the excitement of it all that appeals to us. Maybe we have psychological problems. Okay, so YOU know we have psychological problems. We must, because why in the world would we keep running after the unattainable? Why do we lose our hearts to the man who is bound to leave us weary eyed, hands and knees on the floor, begging for him not to leave us for the busty waitress at Hooters? Okay, let me attempt to explain.

March 8th is a nationally recognized holiday, although readers of this magazine may not be aware of it. International Woman's Day started 145 years ago, on March 8, 1857, and in 1975, was recognized as a national holiday by the United Nations. The day itself serves as recognition for all the struggles women have endured in order to get to the place they are today. It's a day wherein women celebrate not only their stature as a force equal to men, but also their own personal growth as an estrogen producing element of the population.

International Woman's Day has been celebrated in many different ways, but I'd bet not too often in men's literary publications. So why am I choosing to use my position to editorialize and further propagate celebration of this day in a demographic where I should only be blabbering about men's issues? Well, out of all those ways in which females out there choose to recognize their own growth as women, my own personal celebration is something worth the awareness of all you men out there. My own personal celebration of this day, does indeed, have everything to do with you.

The Non-Apparent Pick-up

It began with a Neanderthal grunt, moved to "What's your sign?" and has since become a commonly used tool of the trade amongst men on the prowl. Having heard the worst of them, I have to wonder, does the pick-up line actually do the trick? Is it something men should work on perfecting or is it time to come up with more refined methods for bagging your prey? By now, we cavegirls recognize the club when we see it, and we will surely run like hell before letting you wallop us with it one more time. Given this, if you're going to subject us to your pick-up tactics, at least know which to stay away from and which may keep us entertained just long enough to realize that you're at least a little more ingenious than the average cave dweller.

Put Away the Club

Contrary to popular belief, women don't like feeling that they are the preyed sustenance of men every time they join friends for a night on the town. Sure, some may be out prowling too, but the key is differentiating between those that want to be hunted, and those who simply want to be left alone. So rather than making the hasty approach, camouflage yourself in the bushes awhile and simply observe the prey in its element.

You know those rules that we make up following a break-up? No, it's not the good break-up that I speak of. I'm not talking about the one that left you screaming "freedom at last" at the top of your lungs. No, this is the break-up you didn't see coming. It's the one that left you searching for the nearest Voodoo-Doll-R-Us super store. It's the break-up that found you slamming the door as you shut this person out of your life, heart, and mind. The break-up that left you writing 20 page dissertations to the once said love of your life, promising that you'd never make the same mistake twice, especially with them.

Out of the rules that have culminated over the break-ups in my past, the one that I vowed never to waiver on was that same mistake twice bit. When it came to ex sex, or anything else for that matter, I vowed never again to cross the border into Ex-Ville. So I ask, is there ever an exception to this rule? Is it ever a good idea to reel that old fish that once deemed you too small, too slimy, or just too plain fishy, back into your boat for a second paddle around the lake?