Guy's Eye View

The best way to get a woman interested in you
is to marry someone else.

DAVE KUSHNER

Special to the Jewish News

B

efore I got married, I heard a
lot of rumors about the
power of wearing a wedding
ring. Guys discussed the
"chick magnet" phenomenon with a
reverence usually reserved for
Underdog's secret decoder band.
It didn t matter if you were short,
fat or covered by pimples, the theory
went: Slip on a circle of gold, and
you'll conjure up the harem of your
dreams. There's only one problem:
since you're married, you can't touch
any of them.
I never really bought into the hype
until one day a few weeks after my
honeymoon. I was sprinting across a
busy street on my way to the gym,
dodging trucks and buses, when I
noticed someone running along beside
me.
"Hey, no fair using me as a human
shield," I joked as we made it to the
curb. I heard a laugh and turned to
see a Teri Hatcher clone in a tight
black turtleneck, holding a can of
paint. Without taking her eyes off me,
she smiled incandescently and said, "I
guess I owe you one."
Gulp. This was not supposed to be
happening: I was getting those unmis-
takable wild, spontaneous romp vibes.
But I was married; couldn't she see
that?
I readjusted my gym bag over my

'

10/3
1997

84

shoulder, catching the sun with my
wedding ring. She didn't blink. She
fell into stride with me.
The more we walked, the more she
flirted, culminating in an offhand
invitation to help her finish painting
her apartment. Miming some awk-
ward barbell-curling motions and
stammering nervously, I told her I had
to go. As I walked away, I wondered
why this kind of thing had never hap-
pened in high school.
After that day, I saw evidence of the
"chick magnet" effect everywhere. The
receptionist at the health club, who
never used to give, me the time of day,
chatted me up every time I came
through the door. Women in elevators
broke the stare-at-the-lit-numbers
convention to strike up conversations.
At parties, total strangers told me far
too much about their sexual predilec-
tions.
I was convinced, after a couple of
months, that this was more than my
imagination. Something had definitely
changed — but I wasn't sure why. Was
it the ring itself? Was it an overall bol-
stering of my confidence?
I decided there were two factors at
work. The first: wearing the ring
announces to the women of the world
that I'm a nice guy who's capable of
maintaining an intimate relationship.
I've done my share of cuddling. I've
registered at Macy's. I understand the
nuances of flatware.
Second, and perhaps more impor-

tant: I don't have the rabid, hungry
eyes of single men.
My female friends agree. Married
men are safe. Women can flirt shame-
lessly with no fear of repercussions. As
one friend unflatteringly observed,
"It's like you're a eunuch."
Following the Teri Hatcher-clone
incident, I started playing up my non-
sex potential, my safe-ness, with
female strangers, exploring the kinds
of confidential conversations I could
never have had before. I found myself
jogging on the treadmill next to a
Czech model who told me how all the
trainers just want to get into her span-
dex.
"Guys are such a pain," she panted.
"Yeah, what jerks," I agreed, trying
not to lose my balance and go flying
into the wall behind me. Clearly, she
did not include me in the ranks of
jerkdom.
Just the other night in a bar, an
attractive woman noticed my ring and
started asking me about married life.
Next thing I knew, all her friends had
gathered round, spilling their relation-
ship problems and begging me to tell

them how to get their boyfriends to
commit.
That's when I realized that the best (
way to get to know a woman — to
find out what she's really thinking
instead of having to guess — is to
marry someone else. When I was sin-
gle, I'd have been either too nervous
or too lecherous to spring with the
lovely Czech model. Now, it's like I'm
one of the girls.
Have I pressed my new advantage?
No chance. I'm happily married and
have every intention of staying that
way. My wife says she doesn't mind
other women confiding in me. In fact,
she says, other women paying atten-
tion to me turns her on (apparently,
wearing the ring also allows me to
learn more about the woman I actual-
ly married).
I guess my wedding ring keeps us
both feeling more desirable, while let-
ting me get to know what women are
really about. Good thing. My single
guy friends need all the help they can
get. ❑

This article first appeared in
Mademoiselle.

She Says

__/

Musing on what the holidays are all about.

ALLISON KAPLAN

Special to the Jewish News

I

bought this great new suit last
week, and I have to confess, it's
no coincidence that I decided to
splurge just before heading
home for' Rosh Hashanah.
Call me superficial, reli-
giously lacking or even the
standard cliche: a twice-a-
year Jew. Any way you tag
it, I'm going to look good -
when I march into that
sanctuary.
Yes I know, the High
Holidays are not about
dressing up or showing off
It doesn't matter if your clothes are
old or new, if your heels are of the lat-
est shape and style being shown in fall
fashion collections.
The High Holidays are about reaf-
firming faith. Being thankful for all
that is otherwise taken for granted.

Allison Kaplan is a columnist for the
Chicago Jewish Star whose mother only
lets her date Jewish guys.

Putting into perspective the year's
events. And inevitably, bumping into
a bunch of old friends and Hebrew
school classmates I rarely see the
whole year through.
It's long been a conflict of sorts in
the Jewish community. On the one -
hand, seeing synagogues
swell beyond capacity is
exhilarating. Masses of indi-
viduals become congregants,
united by common prayer
and tradition. Work, school
and routine are cast aside.
On this day, if not on any
other, people are, first and
foremost, Jewish.
Then there is the not-so-
good other hand.
There are those many Sabbaths
between New Years when synagogues
are not so full. The times when
mourners can't say Kaddish for lack'of
a minyan. It's important to remember
those slow days at the synagogue on
the two or three when it's standing-
—/
room-only.
I'm no great exception. I can legiti-