Handsome, nice car, silver tongue. Sure thing, sport. Classy girls, the ones people like me are married to, go for smart dudes with leather bound books that smell of rich mahogany. Oh, and they want dudes that can give them the nice ranch-style house at the end of cul-de-sac in a nice, master-planned community in a great school district. You know, that whole "white picket fence" song and dance. But not white pickets, cedar pickets with a dark brown stain. Gotta compromise somewhere.