I’m not one for gambling. In fact the only gambling I’ve ever partaken in is the fruit machines down the arcade. I have never been to Vegas, have never placed a bet, and do not have the faintest idea about how to distinguish odds and favourites. I am a complete novice, and if I’m honest, 14-1, 5-2, 10-1 means nothing to me. So when the Grand National was on yesterday and my friends were gathered round the TV getting riled up about their bets, my only input was shutting my eyes, counting to three and blind picking a horse called King Fontaine.
For all the gambling terminology that phases me, the definition of spread betting (Wikipedia: ‘any various types of wagering on the outcome of an event, where the pay-off is based on the accuracy of the wager, rather than a simple "win or lose" outcome.’) is something that I’ve become accustomed to.
But I’m not talking spread betting in relation to wagering, trading or finance. I’m talking about an alternative definition for ‘spread betting’ which has been coined to categorize a growing breed of men. Spread betters: Men who invest multiple odds in a succession of women in the hope they will gain a plethora successful outcomes. Layman’s terms: Betting for sex; men who court 10 women in hope that one says yes. Rationally speaking, the more bets you place, the more likely you are to reap some kind of ‘reward’. But problems occur when said ‘spread better’ is so consumed with shifting their odds about like chips on a black jack table that they cannot possibly dedicate thier time to one girl. This drastically reduces their chances in getting a desired result as most women like consistent attention. These men never have time to meet up. They run on a tight schedule; Craig David style. Text a girl on Monday, shifting chips about on Tuesday, linking different chicks on Wednesday, and on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, I’ll chill on Sunday.
I was introduced to this surrogate definition of 'spread better' by a close male friend of mine last week in the pub after he asked about my love life and I told him about a certain guy who sporadically contacts me on a whim, sending flirty texts and calling for quick chat to tell me misses me. I was nattering away telling my friend how I thought this guy had ‘no game’ when he slammed his rum and coke down and proclaimed: “Spread better! Watch out!” I abruptly stopped talking. He could tell from my facial expression I was perplexed and went on to enlighten me that behind the façade this guy had more game than a
casino. “A man will never invest too much time in a woman he only wants for sex. This guy is sporadic because he has no time; he’s too busy placing odds and messaging every other girl in his phonebook! I call it FTR: female text rotation.” The penny dropped and he saw a slight smile spread across my face. “Scumbag exposé. Glad I could help” he said with a pat on my back. We both laughed but beneath it all I couldn’t help but feel a pang of embarrassment. Las Vegas
I’m sure my friend had his reasons for disclosing such essential information. He knows I’m unlucky in love; I’m too naïve, too untrusting and too picky. With all things considered, if I do decide to place my odds on one guy that catches my fancy I’d like to think that that guy is placing one bet too. On me. As the saying goes: Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.
I don’t know who coined the phrase ‘spread better’ for this category of man, but whoever did is a mastermind. So single ladies, when a guy continuously calls you out the blue to ‘see how you are’ and tells you he misses you, contemplate that it may well be a broadcast message to every other female in his phone book/ FTR. Alarm bells should ring. Go and place your odds on a man who is betting on you and only you.