Free The Numbers Game by Frances Vidakovic

worth.”
                Not
really. Unfortunately after five years of no use, Markie’s radar system had
become a bit defective. So he asked Rick to explain and Rick was more than
happy to oblige.
    “An easy
woman is easy enough to pick. She’s the one who’s dressed in little more than a
handkerchief. She’s either got the cleavage or legs on show but usually it’s
both.  Her feet are encased in either one of two options: knee-high screw-me
boots or four inch heels and their face is caked in that crap they call
foundation with lots of eyeliner and red, red lipstick.”
    “You sound
like you’re describing a hooker, Rick,” Markie said in disbelief. “And I see
more of those outside clubs than inside them.”
                “Okay,
okay,” Rick sighed, “So I painted a kindergarten level picture. In case the
more obvious suspects have been snapped up by faster dimwits, just keep your
eyes on the girls who keep their eyes on you. That’s a sure fire sign she’s
interested.”
    “But what
if she’s of the nice, can’t-hurt variety? How will I tell them apart?”
                “Markie,
Markie, Markie,” Rick tut-tutted. “Isn’t it obvious? You want for her to
approach you. That way she can’t blame you for nothing the next day. The good
girls, they never come your way. They might sit and pass off signs as loud as a
May-Day fire but at night they go home and cry into their pillows about what could
have been.”
    “And?”
Markie asked when Rick stopped.  This was good, good riveting stuff.  If only
he had a notebook with him.
    “Listen
you’re a smart guy, surely you can tell the difference between a bad seed and a
good seed.”
    “No,
they’re all the same to me!”
                One look
at Markie and Rick could see this was a desperate situation. So he laid down
the law as simply, concisely and best as he could. What is listed below is
nothing less than the truth.
     
    Bad girls (these are
the type you want):
     
    Think Jersey Shore and
girls about as attractive. They drink beer and shots. Swear out loud. Always
leaning forward and flicking their hair. Forgetting to cross their legs or
sometimes leaving them a bit open. They wear g-strings or nothing at all and
frequently go without a bra. Their midriffs are often bared and showing off
bellybutton rings or a back tattoo. .They smoke heaps and when they flirt its
over-the-top and presumptuous. Conversation is either frivolous (what’s
happening on the latest reality show) or nonexistent. No good woman in their
right mind would leave their partner alone with this sort for a minute, no
matter how trustworthy their boy is.
     
    Good girls (save these
for when you want to get married)
     
    Think Prom Party
Princess. They are always in a group of similarly demure-looking friends. Quiet
spoken and shy, she drinks only wine (one per hour) or bottled water. Their
clothes are flattering but they almost never ever show off ALL their curves.
Lots of whispering to her friends, who then try and suss you out. They have
great smiles and curious eyes that skirt over your way but which they never do
anything about. They never wear loud colors or provocative outfits, no
outrageous dancing on bar tops and if you can get them to speak, it is usually
about how they want to change the world.
     
    “Does that
make sense?” Rick asked.
    “Sort of,”
Markie frowned, “Though honest to good, Serena falls into neither of those two
categories.”
    “Okay so
it’s a bit generalized, so what. The point I’m trying to make is that the
female species in general can be looked at as black and white.”
    “You did a
good job.”
    “Thanks
but now it’s your turn. Tomorrow night, we’ll go out and see how well you can
differentiate the good from the bad.”
    “You’re
giving me a test?”
                “I
wouldn’t want to throw you out like raw meat in the jungle.”
                “What’s my
reward if I