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Rule of 3

Seger Lansdale

    Boy, I can’t wait to hear this! I thought, sitting next to them at the bar, as I had been for most of the night.
    Having nearly shouted themselves hoarse over a debate as to whether a prime Sugar Ray Leonard would’ve beaten a prime Oscar De La Hoya, Everyday Joe and Average Sam turned to more important matters.
    “All right, ” Everyday Joe said. “Since you can’t see that Leonard would’ve wasted De La Hoya, answer me this.” He leaned forward, his angular face challenging in the dim light. “What does it take for a man and woman to fall in love?”
    Average Sam guffawed. “How the hell am I supposed to know? Every time I fall in love, I just fall – down – that is! Why you asking me? You’re the man with all the answers, so give ‘em.”
    I smiled. I didn’t know their real names. I called them Everyday Joe and Average Sam because they were the kind of old guys you could find sitting at a bar in any city, anywhere in the good old U.S. of A. They reminded me of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, or at least Tim Taylor and Al Borlen, but perhaps with a little more intelligence. Everyday Joe was the skinny one, Average Sam the fat boy. Both men wore stylish; black fedora hats, crisp black suits, and dress shoes, which made them cute in a Roaring 20’s kind of way.
    Average Sam sat on a bar stool, his fat ass hanging over the sides. He had the rosy, swollen face of the frequent drinker. He nursed a Bicardi and Coke in a small glass. Everyday Joe alternated between standing up and sitting down, depending on how passionate he was feeling at a given moment. His face was thin and hawk-like; with keen, intelligent brown eyes. He was drinking Sam Adams.
    Everyday Joe had a good vocabulary and excellent manners. He still had a shine to him, and he was taking a shine to me. I gave him a welcoming smile. As for his friend, Average Sam, how would I rate his vocabulary and manners? His shine? Well... Average Sam is someone you just have to experience. You’ll see what I mean.
    There was no doubting that Everyday Joe had agreed with Sam’s last statement: Joe did see himself as the man with all the answers. I read it in the tiny smile on his face. I suspected he believed that if the world would ever make him king, he would straighten out all the bullshit in a hurry. Most men saw themselves that way, to one degree or another. But this Everyday Joe was a little different, not so typical. He was a confident man, but not cocksure or arrogant. I found this attractive.
    I sensed that something else was going on here too. Joe had an almost nonchalant attitude, as if he could stand there all night and wait on Sam to say something. It was as if he were waiting for the tension to grow. Sam fidgeted on his stool. He kept picking up his rum and coke and shaking the ice cubes in the glass.
    The whole scene reminded me of a teakettle placed on a stove, and Average Sam was the old kettle, with Everyday Joe slowly turning up the heat, just waiting for Sam to get to boiling and shrieking on that burner. My suspicions were confirmed when Joe gave me a wink, as if to say, “Know what’s going on here?” I winked back at him as if to reply, “Oh yes, I do.” This was all part of their game: Everyday Joe throwing out the question, and Average Sam getting frustrated enough to demand an answer.
    “Well for Christ’s sake, let’s go!” Average Sam finally exploded. He slammed a meaty fist on the bar top. “Out with it! Give it to me straight. You’re always the shade-tree-fix-it-man! Tell me what it takes for a man and woman to fall in love.”
    “Why should I?” Everyday Joe teased. “Why should I tell you? You never agree with me on anything.”
    “Give me a try,” Sam said, his puffy face glowing redder with earnest. I suspected he was always earnest in most things, until he decided to disagree. “Go on, give me a try.”
    I believed too that Everyday Joe always did give him a try. He appeared to me not only as a confident man, but a charitable and kind one too. His “giving it a try” was probably just as important to the interaction as Average Sam’s feigned open-mindedness.
    “All right,” Joe said. He took a good pull from his beer. “I’m going to give you my theory. I call it the Rule of 3. I believe by the time I am finished, you will see that I have solved the mystery of what makes a man and a woman fall in love. This mystery is solved by letting love happen, rather than making it happen. Love itself happens within the process of the Rule of 3.”
    Average Sam snorted. “Yeah, and Leonard would’ve whipped De La Hoya.”
    “There you go again,” Everyday Joe said. “Already disagreeing.” His mock frustration had the desired effect and Average Sam again became tolerant, almost angelic.
    “Sorry,” he mumbled. He finished his Bicardi and Coke and ordered another. “I’m ready,” he said, after the bartender poured him another drink. “Give me the Rule of 3.”
    Indeed, I thought. I’m ready too, Everyday Joe. Give me this Rule of 3, your theory, and show me how you let love happen.
    “All right then,” Everyday Joe said. He looked over to ensure that he had my attention. I rested my chin in my hand, my eyes sparkling for him. I was only two seats removed from them so I could hear it all, and I wanted Joe to know I could hear it all. “The first element of the Rule,” he continued, his eyes lingering on mine, “is what I call connection.”
    “There are tangibles and intangibles when it comes to connection,” he said, “and they are either attractive or unattractive.”
    Average Sam started absently picking his nose. Remember when I had mentioned earlier his vocabulary and manners? Well...
    “Go on,” he said, while at the same time removing his finger from his nose and checking for any boogers.
    Everyday Joe didn’t seem to notice his friend’s bad manners. “Let’s start with tangibles,” he said. “I use this word loosely to describe consciously observable phenomenon, things or qualities men and women experience through their five senses. This is where beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder.”
    Average Sam continued picking his nose. He examined his finger again and this time having found a booger, he began rolling it between his index finger and thumb.
    Everyday Joe watched him. He had noticed after all. “My list is by no means exhaustive, but obviously there has to be physical attraction,” he said. “Body types and shapes, smiles, facial expressions; hell, even upright walking styles and postures can all be attractive tangibles. Maybe he likes the way she sweeps her bangs away from her eyes; or she likes the way he tilts his head to one side when he is listening to her. Maybe it’s her style of dressing, or his good, clean grooming.”
    Everyday Joe stopped and watched Average Sam roll his booger.
    “I’m hearing ya,” Sam said. “Keep goin’.”
     “And then there is the proper handling of money and a good credit rating: more attractive tangibles that can make for connection between a man and a woman.”
    Sam was still rolling away. The booger was reaching the hardening point for the eventual finger-flick, or the subtle drop to the floor.
    “Are you really listening to me?” Joe asked.
    “Absolutely,” Average Sam said. “But we should speed things up. Let’s move to unattractive tangibles.” His voice took on a pompous tone when he said, “Conscious observable phenomenon that might kill connection between a man and woman.”
    “Yes,” Everyday Joe said. “For instance, a habit like picking your nose, then rolling what you find? That is a very unattractive tangible.”
    I had to look away momentarily to keep from bursting out laughing.
    Sam stopped his rolling and shrugged his shoulders. Dropping his arm to the side, he opened his index finger and thumb. Flicking a booger in public, unless really seeking shock value, was apparently unseemly in a social setting, even for someone as coarse as Average Sam. He had opted for the subtle booger-drop to the floor.
    He looked unflinchingly at Everyday Joe. “Hey, I ain’t out to impress nobody.”
    “Obviously,” Joe said. He merely smiled and went on. “We can list other unattractive tangibles. Two others might be an obnoxious sounding laugh, or the inability to meet the other person’s eyes. Maybe he stinks, or she wears too much perfume. His tone of voice might betray a lack of confidence and he comes off as a wet-noodle-back; or she talks only about her wants and needs and comes off as a vain-ass-boor!”
    “I get the picture,” Average Sam said. “What about intangibles, the attractive and unattractive?”
    “Intangibles are not observable through the five senses,” Everyday Joe said. “They are more subconscious. This is where someone knows he or she likes (or dislikes!) something about somebody, but can’t always put a finger on why.”
    “For example, an attractive intangible might be her intellect, as opposed to his being too emotional. Maybe he’s an optimist, with a bubbly personality and a positive outlook that she finds inspiring because she’s a cynic. Of course, these attributes can be unattractive intangibles too. He might be intimidated by her intellect, or she could be skeptical that anyone could ever be so sugary and happy all the time.”
    Everyday Joe paused, his index finger resting on his cheek in an evaluative gesture. “The combinations of tangibles and intangibles are endless when it comes to connection, and they will be as unique and individuated as the men and women involved.” He took a swig from his beer. After swallowing, he smacked his lips with satisfaction. “But suffice it to say, attractive tangibles and intangibles build a connection between a man and a woman; the unattractive tear that connection down.”
    Interesting ideas, so far. But how do all the elements tie together, Everyday Joe?
    A few rowdies came in and ordered some drinks. The bartender waited on them. Joe sipped his beer and Sam took another pull from his rum and coke. They seemed to be waiting for things to quiet down again.
    After the noise dropped to a dull roar, Joe said, “I think it’s important to mention at this point, before moving on to timing, just how all these elements tie together.”
    I licked my lips. I’ve always known I had a touch of the serendipity, and my choice of this Everyday Joe was confirmed for me by the last words he had just spoken. He was on the verge of addressing my question.
    I’m fifty-eight years old and to quote Rod Stewart, I wear it well, especially when dressed in my black cocktail dress and matching heels; and when highlighted by my long, silver and black hair. I’ve done marvelous things with my skin over the years, and I look more than good. I would say I’m downright yummy.
    I caught Joe giving me the once over and I smiled at him. You are already mine, sugar. He smiled back, probably thinking he was the one doing the choosing.
    “The important thing to remember regarding my theory, the Rule of 3, is that all three elements are at work simultaneously,” he said, returning to the subject at hand. “Connection, timing, and hearts: all three are at work during an evolving process.”
    Average Sam gave him an almost dismissive glance. “Why not call it the “Theory of 3” then, or the “Process of 3?” he asked.
    “Because the rule is that all three elements must be at work for love to happen between a man and a woman. Timing might be a little behind, but if it’s there with connection and hearts, love is still possible. Timing and hearts may be present, but if there is no connection, love cannot happen. All three elements must be at work at the same time in the process. That is the rule, which I call Rule of 3.”
    Good enough, I thought, makes perfect sense in a perfect world.
    Average Sam leaned over and ripped a fart. “Well then, my doctor of love, let’s have your little talk about timing.”
    “I’m talking about good timing. Unlike what you just demonstrated.”
    “Whatever.” Sam waved his hand dismissively. “On to timing.” He took a slug from his rum and coke, and then smirked. “Come to think of it, I’ve got terrible timing when it comes to women. I’m always saying or doing the wrong thing at the wrong time.”
    “I’m not talking about timing in that sense,” Joe said. He took a swallow from his beer. “I’m talking about stations in life. A man and a woman have to be in the same place.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “This river of life we are all on. A man and woman have to be at the same point on the river, or at least on the same raft. She can’t be sunning herself on the beach while he is battling with the tiller. He can’t be back-floating in the shallows while she’s struggling with the sails.”
    Sam shook his head. “Listen, fuckin’ Socrates. Get to the point, will ya?”
    “Bad timing is shown,” Joe said, “when a man or woman starts dating shortly after a divorce or a long-term relationship. They think they are ready to date again, but they are not. Happens all the time and people muck up their lives and the lives of other people in the process.”
    Sam nodded. “Go on.”
    “It’s not just rebounding from divorces or breakups that show bad timing. Another example is a man trying to be a father because he loves the woman, and yet he really doesn’t feel the same way about her kids. Or women grabbing men who are already fathers, and then competing with the children for their fathers’ time and attention – just one more example of bad timing brought on by an unhealed life.”
    “And what about this business with people trying to “get ready?” Joe continued. He was preaching it now. “I hear this all the time too: ‘I’m getting myself ready to where I can have a long-term, loving relationship.’ Instead of trying to “get ready,” what that person really should be doing is accepting his or her current place in life and “getting real,” with themselves and other people first, before getting involved again.”
    “They make compromises?” asked Sam. “Is that what you’re saying?”
    “Yes,” Joe said. “They make compromises with themselves and other people. They injure themselves and others because of their poor timing.”
    “Fine,” Sam said. “That all makes sense. But isn’t there something to be said for getting out there and making things happen?”
    Everyday Joe jumped off his stool. “That is exactly the problem: trying to make things happen, rather than just letting them! They can’t accept that certain relationships with certain people aren’t going to work. An example would be the woman who continually works to get a man who just doesn’t want to be gotten. Another is the man who won’t take “I’m really not interested” seriously, no matter how many different ways she might tell him. Do you get what I’m saying? Can you see the futility?” Joe sat down again.
    Average Sam pursed his lips, considering the arguments.
    I saw that Everyday Joe had given his Rule of 3 some thought. It was for that reason, when a stud approached me and offered to buy me a drink, with his smile beaming and his cologne wafting sexily, that I brushed him off. Everyday Joe was intriguing me, and I wanted to take him home for the night!
    I was pleased when I saw relief cross Everyday Joe’s face shortly after I gave the stud the brush off. Joe was hopeful that something might happen between him and I. He looked almost awestruck. I loved that!
    Average Sam studied his friend for a few moments, looking to me, and then back to him. Sam seemed to know something was going on between Joe and I, but he really couldn’t put his finger on it.
    “We still have one more to go,” he said, as if he could distract himself and us from the strangeness of it all. “The Rule of 3, remember? We still got one to go. We’ve only done connection and timing.”
    Everyday Joe blinked once, as if to break the hold I had on him. “Oh... oh yes,” he said, his eyes still lingering on me. “The Rule of 3 and one to go.” He swallowed. “Two down, one to go!” He laughed too loudly and I smiled. He grinned back, almost stupidly.
    Average Sam cleared his throat.
    “Oh...oh yes,” Joe said again. “We have reached the third and most important element of the Rule of 3. This element is the imperative for love to last. Both people must have the right hearts!”
    Average Sam raised a thick hand. The hand wasn’t only to interrupt Everyday Joe, but to maintain balance. Sam was swaying badly. If not for the marriage of his huge ass to the barstool, he might’ve toppled over and fallen on the floor. The rum and cokes were having their say, even as Sam was now trying to have his. “I think I can open this up,” he said, his voice slurring. “This turd...uh...uh...third and most important element.”
    Everyday Joe grinned at him. “By all means.”
    “Hearts,” Sam said. He dropped his hand to the bar top for a steadier hold. “People either have hard hearts or soft hearts. The hard-hearted have to find other hard-hearted; the soft-hearted have to find soft-hearted.” He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Simple enough.”
    “Almost,” Everyday Joe said. He smiled again and finished his beer. “Bartender,” he called. “Ma’am?” he asked me.
    “I’m good, thank you.” I pulled up my skirt a bit further on my folded leg. Gave Joe little more knee. He blushed.
    God, I love this guy!
    The bartender brought Joe another beer. During the interval, Average Sam had been staring at Joe. He continued staring, his drunken eyes blinking slowly when he mumbled, “Almost?”
    “Almost,” Everyday Joe said. “You almost have it right.”
    “I do have it right,” Sam said. “Think about it. Hard-hearted people have to get with other hard-hearted people.”
    “And do what? Emotionally and mentally batter each other? Join as a team to brutalize other people? Doesn’t sound to me like a recipe for a happy and loving life! No, two hard-hearted people shouldn’t get together because they are too strong. Too much backbone there.”
    Sam looked doubtful now. “I suppose that means soft-hearted people can’t get together either.”
    “They can, if they want to get run over by a bulldozer,” Joe said. “You know as well as I do that bulldozers come in all shapes and sizes in this world, and that makes it difficult for soft-hearted people to make it as couples. Not enough backbone there.”
    Sam looked ready to quit. Almost. “Fine. Then we go with the fact that opposites attract. Hard-hearted people need to find soft-hearted people and vice versa.” He took a deep gulp from his rum and coke, finishing it. “There it is!”
    “Not quite,” Everyday Joe said. “Almost, but not quite.” Joe’s eyes were mischievous as he studied his friend.
    “I need another drink,” Average Sam said. “Bartender!” The bartender looked over and made a cutting gesture across his throat. He too had observed that Sam had had enough for the night. “Can at least have a coke then?” Sam asked. The bartender poured him a coke, brought it over, and took the empty rum glass.
    “I give up,” Sam said. “I’m cut off from drinking and that’s probably a good thing, since I’m cut off from thinking too.” He sighed. “Give it to me straight, Bill.”
    Bill! So that was Everyday Joe’s real name!
    “All right, Edward,” Bill said, formerly known as Everyday Joe. “You were partly right in that there are hard-hearted and soft-hearted people in this world. They get together every day and make wrecks of their lives. But in this world there are also warm-hearted people. Warm-hearted people have the right hearts for love to happen in my Rule of 3.”
    “How so?” asked Edward, formerly known as Average Sam.
    “Warm-hearted people are folks who were once either hard-hearted or soft-hearted, but they evolved beyond those limits. They developed warm and loving hearts, which can be soft as silk when needed, or hard as granite too, depending on what a situation warrants.”
    Bill got off his stool and made his way over to me and gently put his arm around my shoulders. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Bill.”
    I placed my hand over his on my shoulder. “I’m Sharon, and it’s very nice to meet you.”
    “It’s very nice being met,” he said.
    “I was wondering when you’d come over to say hello.”
    Edward looked ready to fall off his barstool again, and this time not from drunkenness, but from surprise. “What is this?” he asked. He looked like he wanted another drink – badly. “Bill? What is this? Are we done talking the Rule of 3?”
    “Pretty much,” Bill said. I took my cue and slid off my barstool. The bartender had been watching us. He brought our bar tabs over and we gave him our charge cards. He returned after ringing us up. We took our tabs and proceeded to sign them.
    “Bill, what about connection?” Edward asked. I heard confusion in his voice and saw it written on his chubby face. “You don’t even know this woman.... this... this...Sharon! How can you possibly have already connected? You might not like her perfume.”
    “Seems all right to me,” Bill said, handing the bartender his signed bar tab. “Smells downright divine, actually.”
    “Thank you,” I said. “Your cologne?”
    “Curve,” Bill said. “You like?”
    “Indeed! I knew that fragrance the moment you put your arm around me.” I gave the bartender my tab.
    “Shall we?” Bill asked, taking me gently by the hand. We started for the door and Average Sam, no that would be Edward, called after us.
    “Hey, wait a minute! What about timing? She could be freshly divorced! On the rebound from a long-term relationship... there might be baggage... many kids you... you don’t want to be a father! You told me!”
    The bartender stared at him. “Well, he did tell me!” Edward barked. “Mind your own business, or pour me another fuckin’ drink!”
    We kept walking. Edward wasn’t giving up. “Remember hearts? You’re a softy! She could be hard-hearted.” Bill and I stopped and smiled at one another. He dropped my hand for a moment and turned back to Edward. I felt almost sorry that we were leaving him there alone.
    “Ed, you are taking this way too seriously,” Bill said. He turned to the bartender. “Call him a cab, will you?” The bartender nodded. Bill retook my hand and we started again for the door.
    “What about letting things happen instead of making things happen?” We were almost to the door now and Edward still wasn’t giving up. He was bound and determined to have his say. “You’re going home with her! That’s making things happen, the huge no-no! in your theory.”
    “But that’s all the Rule of 3 is,” Bill called back over his shoulder. “Only a theory.”
    “I disagree! It was more than a theory,” Edward said. “It was something approaching truth!”
    Yes, something approaching truth, I admitted to myself, as I hooked Bill’s arm in mine and lead him out the door and into the waiting darkness. Indeed! But the Rule of 3 is still only a theory, and you know what I say?
    I say, “Man shall have all his theories, and they shall all be confounded by woman.”

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