Poppy
Party girls are a thing. A small subset of women so beauti-ful—and God, don’t they know it—that they’re able to play men like a fi ddle, both mentally and sexually. These types of women are so sexually confi dent, they can and do have sex like a man without it really affecting their psyches.
While the men usually view these women like ‘candy’, a quick fi x to their egotistical sexual woes, Poppy Belle was a self-proclaimed party girl, and if one man wasn’t satisfying her partying urge, she’d simple move on to the next. She knew how to manoeuvre men like pawns on a chessboard and was a master at picking them up, getting them to fall in love with her, then tossing them aside like a piece of old chewing gum.
And since she could have her pick of the bunch, she usually
#24. MEN AND THE CANDY GIRL THEORY:
Party girls, floozies, slutty women are all seen as ‘candy’ to men. They’ll never take you seriously (or so the men told me). Yes, they’ll date you, fuck you, maybe even wine and dine you. But they’ll never take you home to meet their mum. You’re just not the marrying type . . . until you give up your hard partying ways . . .
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only went for men who were wealthy, famous or had something she wanted. Since Poppy had dated so many men, she knew all about types like the Producer that Jane had got herself into such a funk over. Poppy was always one step ahead of these men. That was, until Doug came along.
She’d hardly taken any notice of him when her agent had introduced them at some red-carpet cocktail party. A bit stiff, she’d thought. Still, he was attractive in that George Clooney-esque way, despite his age. He had a slick crop of greying hair, tanned gold-fl ecked skin that was more Positano than Venice Beach, and he was a little taller than her, which was often diffi cult to fi nd considering she was a statuesque six feet tall.
Doug had a slim, toned body, which he usually clothed in a leather jacket and torn denims.
Poppy was informed by her agent that Doug was heir to a billionaire fortune, and so, on her agent’s recommendation, she decided to try him out. After all, she had just turned thirty, and wasn’t going to wait around forever for Mr Right. She wanted Mr Right Now.
The minute they started dating, Doug revelled in the fact that his friends were impressed by his new arm-candy. He liked the status that came with being the media darling’s older, newer, more sophisticated date. So he decided, just this once, to play his cards right. He wined and dined her, supported her and doted on her. She fucked and blew him as often as he requested, and fl irted with his friends. Just to make him happy.
When Doug introduced Poppy to his waspish mother and she turned up her nose, calling Poppy ‘trash’, Doug did
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nothing to make Poppy feel more comfortable. Poppy didn’t really care. She realised that he was weak, passive and no match for her feisty nature, ambition and non-caring attitude, but she stuck around. After all, he had a waterfront apartment, his own luxury yacht and could give her the jet-set lifestyle she’d always dreamed of. Because even though Poppy was a successful model who hobnobbed with the likes of Paris Hilton and Richard Branson, and had dated the who’s who of eligible bachelors (including one A-list actor who’d got her front-page headlines for all the wrong reasons), she was still struggling to stay on her feet. The bills were pouring in, yet she refused to take a step back from her extravagant lifestyle.
Gradually, Poppy became more and more attached to Doug. One balmy summer evening, after they’d had sex on his yacht, she told him she loved him. She waited for his response, but he simply shrugged his shoulders.
‘I don’t really believe in love,’ he said. ‘But you’re fun.’
And he cupped her breasts and made love to her again.
#25. MEN WITHOUT BACKBONE:
Dating a man without a backbone is like going on a diet that involves eating chocolate cake for lunch. It’s never going to work. While he might seem sweet, doting and loving, if he’s not going to stick up for you, cherish you, look after you and support you, there’s no point in continuing things further. Don’t drag this one out—you’ll only get burned . . .
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When Poppy got a call from her agent telling her that she was to front a new advertising campaign for a high-end perfume, she was elated. The only catch? It was to be shot in Fiji over two weeks. She knew she’d miss Doug terribly, but this was a chance of a lifetime.
At the airport she told Doug how she felt. ‘I love you.
And I want to know you feel the same way about me.’
‘Of course I do, Princess,’ he said. He kissed her on her neck and promised he’d call her everyday while she was gone.
True to his word, he did, leaving her a trail of saccharine-sweet messages. Maybe this could work, she thought. Yes, she’d make it work. After all, there were handbags that needed to be purchased. Botox to be paid for. A public front that she needed to keep up.
#26. CANDY GIRL WARNING:
Don’t be blinded by your own ego to see the situation for what it is. If you’re not being treated the way you deserve, walk away.
No man—no matter how wealthy, famous, successful, good-looking or fun he is to hang around with—is worth a broken heart.
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