THE BRONX METHOD OF TESTING

The Bronx Method of Testing Someone

 

 

Dear Playboy Author Boy,

I need help! I just cant play games. I never could. Shouldnt that have stopped after high school? Isn’t life too short to wade thru all that shit? Is there something wrong with an open honest relationship?

Gameless in New Jersey

Dear Gameless,

As to games, you have to realize that men tend to be lied to in their work lives and private lives. The antidote to lies is to test for truth. To test reality.

I do it myself, perhaps more consciously than others do, and hopefully ethically. But, for example, I like a woman. I have been burned by women with violent tempers. So I test for her temperament in the only way possible ~ I try to piss her off and see what she does. Some women suddenly snap, fly off the handle and throw things or punch the guy. Others get bitter scream. Others don't betray their anger and push it down, but get back at the guy in little annoying passive-aggressive ways. Then there's the woman who gives it back, gets steadily angrier rather than suddenly snapping, and when she does get so angry she can't stand it, she "breaks safe." In other words, when she loses it, she doesn't hurt anyone, she's vocal about how and why she's mad, then withdraws after informing the man who made her mad. That, dear, is the woman for me. I want a sturdy, flexible tree of a woman who bends in my winds without breaking, but when she does break, it's not a nuclear explosion.

This is the famous "Bronx Method" of testing people. I learned it from the infamous Rocket Ron Damiani, a boss of mine, ex-Marine fighter pilot, who needed to know if I was loyal to him and whether I would break safe. He piled on the stress. It took him a year, but finally after I'd been awake 60 hours working on an emergency for him, he blasted me for a stupd thing and I went off. I put my finger in his face and said, "Fuck you, Ron!" It was 1 pm, but I left and went home and drained half a fifth of Jack Daniels.

The next day Ron was contrite and friendly, and he told me he NEEDED to know what I would do when furious at him. Would I go over his head to management? Call my VP friends? Hit him? Tell the world he was an asshole? Get destructive with my work? No. I blew up at him, cursed in his face, went home and got drunk. Ron took that as the highest compliment. In fact, he used to brag to people about what a great guy I was because of how I "passed" that test. At the time I rolled my eyes at it, but now I see.

I lost my last girlfriend in part because I couldn't tell what she was thinking. I'd had to pick fights with her over trumped-up stuff to find out. When she got into a deep depression, I ended us, hoping to see what she did. After we broke up, I trusted her and loved her even more, and tried to reconcile, but it was too deep a wound for her.

And that, honey, is just a little about games from a player.

Be Bad.

Playboy Author Boy