The Bad Bachelors’ Club: Nice Guys Need Not Apply!
I know the women of New York are busy being successful and chasing their dreams, so I’ve rounded up the men you should stay away from. These are the bachelors our users have rated as the worst in the city. We’ll start with…
Reed McMahon.
If you’ve checked out our app, you may have stumbled across him. Don’t be fooled by the gorgeous profile picture and endless list of social engagements. He’s bad news, ladies.
Reed is a notorious bachelor, known for his smooth moves, career pedigree, and rubbing elbows with the rich. Mr. Image Fixer has spent years practicing his morning-after escape on the women of New York by luring them into his bed (well, not his bed—rumor has it he only has visitors to his hotel room) with empty promises and a talented mouth.
User BroadwayBelle was kind enough to give us the inside scoop.
He’ll stomp on your heart without thinking twice, she told us. He’s the worst kind of man because he makes you think the world revolves around you…and then he’ll have someone drag you out of his office.
Ouch! If you’re a dating daredevil, then be our guest, but make sure you take your parachute with you.
Stay tuned for tomorrow’s blog post, where we give you tips on how to overcome first-date jitters and make sure he’s thinking about you the next morning for all the right reasons. Have your notebooks ready.
With love,
Your Dating Information Warrior
Helping the single women of New York since 2018
When Reed walked into his office building the following morning, it was to the sound of whispers. Two junior consultants exchanged looks as they held the elevator door for him. As it slid shut, the shiny reflection showed one of the women digging her phone out of her bag and turning the screen toward her colleague.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said, watching them in the reflection.
Their heads snapped up, eyes wide. A chorused “good morning, Mr. McMahon” made him feel way too much like a school principal. But it had the intended effect. The woman put her phone away and the whispering ceased.
The elevator stopped a few ear-popping seconds later on level thirty-six. As Reed exited, he could have sworn one of the women had said, “See, I told you.”
Aaron waved and fell into step with Reed, his laptop tucked under one arm. “Hey, man. How was the weekend?”
Never before had such an obligatory office greeting been accompanied by such genuine interest. “Fine,” Reed replied carefully. “How was yours?”
“Good.” Aaron continued to walk beside him even though his office was in the opposite direction. “Get up to anything interesting?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, come on.” Aaron nudged him with an elbow. “Cat’s out of the bag now. Surely you’ve got something juicy for me.”
Reed stifled the urge to tell the guy to leave him the fuck alone. “What do you want, Aaron?”
“A tidbit. A story to keep me going. I’ve been married for ten years. I need to live vicariously. If I were your age and single, I’d be all over this Bad Bachelors thing.”
“It’s not a thing.”
“Sure it is. You’ve been Tiger Woods-ing all over Manhattan and now everybody knows it.”
“Firstly, I’m not married, so your Tiger Woods comparison doesn’t really work. Secondly…” Reed stopped in front of his assistant’s desk. “If your wife is that much of a noose around your neck, perhaps you should look into getting a marriage counselor.”
“Wow, for a guy who’s getting laid as much as you are, you sure are a cranky fucker,” Aaron grumbled as he turned tail and headed toward his office.
Reed sucked in a breath and counted to ten. If he got through the day without actually murdering someone, then he would count it as a win.
Way to set the bar low. Any closer to the ground and you’d trip over it.
“Good morning, Reed.” His assistant, Kerrie, smiled. She was the only person at Bath and Weston who seemed to know when not to poke the bear, which made her a rarity.
He’d joked once about marrying her because she was the only woman who would put up with him. But Kerrie, while dedicated and organized, was old enough to be his mother.
“Morning, Kerrie.” He nodded. “Should I expect any surprises on my desk today?”
“No.” She pressed her lips together. “And I am sorry about the trophy. Aaron told me he’d borrowed one of the files from your office. If I’d known—”
“It’s fine.” He held up a hand. “Honestly. You shouldn’t have to question partners about their behavior.”
“Clearly I do,” she replied with a sigh. “You had an 8:00 a.m. call scheduled with Chrissy Stardust, but her agent canceled a few minutes ago.”
He grunted. “Shocker.”
“That means you’re free until ten.” She inclined her head toward his office door. “And I picked up an Americano for you on the way in—peace offering for messing up on Friday.”
“It’s absolutely not required.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “But I am going to enjoy the hell out of it.”
“Good.” Her brows knitted together. “How’s your dad doing?”
“Frustrating, but no more than normal. Well…” It wasn’t like him to air his personal business. Kerrie only knew about the issues with his dad because she’d fielded calls from his father’s caretaker, Donna, on a few occasions. But what he considered personal was suddenly open for public consumption. “The woman who kept calling from Scion last week got ahold of him. At least, I think it was the same person. She turned up at his house.”
“That’s despicable.” Kerrie shook her head, her lips pursed. “Honestly, turning up at a sick man’s home like that…” She broke off with an annoyed huff. “Have they no shame?”
“Apparently not,” he said dryly. “They’ll probably call again.”
“I’ll deal with it.”
“Thank you.”
He headed into his office feeling like he’d already worked a whole day. Perhaps it was time to have a closer look at Bad Bachelors. It pained him to assign energy to such a stupid thing, but if people were sniffing around his father, then he should at least know what was being said about him.
Reed picked up the coffee cup from his desk and dropped into his office chair. A quick search took him to a website with a bright-pink banner, which had a set of glossy lips parted seductively while a manicured finger hovered over them in a shh motion.
The website advertised a free download of their mobile app, but it appeared everything could be accessed on desktop as well. His slick corporate headshot looked back at him. It was the same one they’d used for the Bath and Weston website. Underneath that was a little red banner that said “bad bachelor” and another with “most reviewed.” Such accolades.
He scanned the reviews, and one immediately jumped out.
“He’ll stomp on your heart without thinking twice. He’s the worst kind of man because he makes you think the world revolves around you. He’ll take you out and treat you like a princess. But don’t you dare encroach on his space. Get too close and he’ll have someone drag you out of his office.” —BroadwayBelle
Ah, Karlie.
The Broadway-show enthusiast with a crazy streak wider than the Hudson.
They’d dated over two years ago, well before the app was created. Obviously she still held a grudge. And the only reason she’d been “dragged out of his office” was because she’d breached security and threatened Kerrie after he forgot to call her back after a date. Never mind that his father had been rushed to the hospital with severe dehydration. Reed hadn’t even been in the office when security had escorted her out. But the facts didn’t matter, clearly.
He scrolled farther down the page. Since the site allowed women to review with anonymity, the usernames didn’t really tell him much. He could pick a few of them out, but mostly it was nonsense. A good portion of the reviews didn’t even say anything specific.
But one made him pause.
“He took me on the most romantic date. Like, Hollywood romantic. We went to the top of Rockefeller Center and looked out at the view. I thought everything was going well. But when we went to a bar, he got really drunk and started talking about all his clients at work. It was totally weird and unprofessional, and I don’t know how anyone could trust him.” —RedheadForNow
Reed frowned. He had a running joke with Kerrie about how much he hated Rockefeller Center—he’d never been to the top of the tourist trap to see the view. Not once. And since one of the guys at work had proposed to his fiancée there, like something out of a sappy Hallmark movie, Reed had dubbed it off-limits. He loathed clichés, and so he refused to take part in that piece of New York City.
So why the hell was there a review citing a date in a place he’d never been? And the comment about him getting drunk and talking about clients was totally off too. For one, Reed could hold his liquor. He came from good Irish stock and knew how to put his drinks away. For two, building trust with his clients was the only thing that would keep him in business. So why would he break that trust?
It didn’t add up.
Was it possible that this person had him mixed up with someone else? Or was it something more sinister?
Whatever the reason, it just proved that Bad Bachelors was as full of shit as he’d assumed. No better than a tabloid magazine. He’d have bet his last dollar that by the end of the week, everyone would have forgotten about this joke of a website. He wasn’t going to waste any more precious time on it.
A knock at his office door pulled him out of his thoughts and he closed the Bad Bachelors website. Good riddance. “Yes?”
Kerrie came into his office. “I know this probably isn’t the best time to ask a favor…”
“I’m willing to forget last week happened if you are.” He gave her a pointed look. One tiny mistake that wasn’t even a mistake was nothing compared to her years of hard work for the company and the fact that she’d had his back since the day she’d been assigned to him. “What do you need?”
“Well, the Pro Bono Drive is happening this week and I know you’ve gotten a ton of submissions.”
“But you’re coming to plead your case anyway?”
The Pro Bono Drive was one of Edward Weston’s initiatives. Every year, employees of Bath and Weston put forward suggestions for charities or companies in underprivileged areas to receive a free PR consultancy from a partner. Ed was a soft touch like that, always trying to help the underdogs of the world.
This was Reed’s first year participating. He was happy to be involved, since he’d been on the receiving end of Edward’s generosity a long time ago.
“I am.” Kerrie nodded. “My grandson’s library is in dire need of support.”
He had to fight back the automatic curl of his lip—of all the goddamn things, why did it have to be a library? It’d been a long time since he’d set foot in one. Over a decade.
“They’ve had funding cuts, and they tried to run a GoFundMe campaign recently, but it didn’t get much traction. I donated, of course. But they need more than what one person can provide.” She sucked in a breath. “I go there every week with Finn, because he loves to read. I even started him in a creative writing program for elementary school kids, and he was having so much fun. But they had to cut a lot of their programs.”
Kerrie’s eyes glistened behind her thick-rimmed, blue glasses. Her grandson was the light of her life, and her desk was dotted with photos of him. Her daughter-in-law had passed away two years ago with an unusually aggressive form of breast cancer. Since then, Kerrie had moved in with her son and Finn, playing the role of mother and grandmother as best she could. It always made Reed a little guilty when they had to work long hours, because he knew it meant he was stealing her time from Finn. He would have given anything to have a person like Kerrie in his life when he was a kid.
But a library… Fuck.
“I know you can’t pick favorites, but I’ve made a compelling argument in the submission. The people who run the library are always going above and beyond to help people.” She paused. “They do good things for the community. I was talking with one of the librarians there and I know they’re looking at running some kind of fundraising event. They could really use your help.”
“Where’s the library?”
“Flatbush.”
He nodded. “Ah, so you thought you’d appeal to my Brooklyn roots, did you?”
“You’re exactly what they need. Finn and I would be forever grateful.” She smiled.
“I have to look at all the submissions and give them equal consideration,” he said. “But I appreciate you giving me the personal explanation.”
“Of course, I understand.”
She retreated from his office and Reed rubbed his hands over his face. Kerrie wasn’t aware of his history with libraries. If she had been, she probably wouldn’t have asked. Which was why he knew that he’d end up choosing her entry.
Good people were hard to find in this city. He spent most of his time covering up the bad behavior and wrongdoings of his paying clients, so he owed it to her to help out the people who actually gave a shit about their community.
Even if it meant facing his past.