It's an obstacle course for women of Whistler 

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There's a unique specimen in this lovely resort town: The young Whistler male.

The RCMP must certainly stake themselves at Function and turn away the unattractive because the Whistler male is just too gorgeous, flirty, fit and ready to break hearts. Most of them are like something out of an ad for men's cologne for god's sake.

For Whistler women, it is an obstacle course, a minefield, and an amusement park all at the same time. Consider the 24-year-old gorgeous brunette, who we shall call Gorgeous Brunette. The date was exceptional: He made her dinner. She lost the next two days to food poisoning.

Then there is Blue Eyes, a 22-year-old doll who was quite content with a guy for several months before he just up and slept with one of her friends.

It's like anywhere else, but it's different, these young women say. It's a perpetual party in the bubble, where good times can override common decency.

"This is casual, we get it," says Gorgeous Brunette. "But we still have feelings."

In the spirit that no woman should suffer, here is a survival guide:

The Peter Pan manolescent: He is everywhere. He's fun, playful and just on the edge of being an immature baby. He should come equipped with a warning button and a burping blanket. He can play on a woman's nurturing instinct without her really being aware of it until it's too late. He has flaws, but you don't pick up on them because he's so damn charming. He berates anyone who is too focused on things that don't matter in life, such as rent. Then he asks you to pay the bill as he lasciviously ogles the woman at the next table.

Warning signs: He doesn't have much money. He is fun, but childish. He is an amuse-douche.

The Foreigner: Their easy accents are difficult to resist. They can be arrogant, not as mindful of women as an equal sex. They'll take you out for breakfast then laugh uproariously as they spill your maple syrup and refuse to hold your sticky hand the rest of the day. There are the Australians, Brits, the Scots, the Irish — and even the Quebecers, who qualify as foreign what with their French-laced vernacular and just a soupçon of entitlement (they are distinct, after all). Asked if they stay away from the groovy Foreign studs, Gorgeous Brunette and Blue Eyes just look incredulously at each other and say: "We should!"

Warnings signs: The accent. That big, broad smile. How they undress you with their eyes. They don't do the dishes.

The athlete: The most mysterious and elusive, this man is on the mountain constantly, whether it's skiing or biking. He flirts when he grabs a coffee at the shop, practically melting your heart as he chats so effortlessly, giving you all his attention. He is so focused on athleticism, he's monk-like in his pursuit. He travels solo, eschewing even male company. He knows the best trails where no one else is around for his Zen-like workouts. He's not into quinoa, but he likes his beer. He likes the sound of his own mind.

Warning signs: He doesn't need anyone. He never really even needed his mother. You will never see him again.

The transient: Dude was here two years ago working on the mountain all clean-cut and eager. Then he disappeared, off to the Rockies. Now he's back with a guitar and a man-bun. He's easygoing, gets along with everyone, but has one foot out the door. You're fascinated — in a trainwreck kind of way — at how he pulls off that puka-shell and bead necklace in such a retro way. His lifestyle dictates that he shares a large house with five other guys. The house smells of mould. He only knows how to make toast. His poetry sucks.

Warning signs: Subway wrappers, empties, and he owns only three shirts.

Regular guy: He's older, in his mid 30s, has a solid job and is here to stay. He's warm, funny and would love to hook up with someone for a relationship. Women find him too good, ergo, he is mistaken for being dull because he doesn't have any badass tendencies. Because of this, he thinks women don't know what they want, and he truly believes that nice guys finish last. There are only seven of these men in Whistler. Maybe only six if one of them gave up and moved back to Vancouver by press time.

Warning signs: None. Nada. This guy should be on your radar.

Who would you choose?

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