Wah, how do I make women like me?
I haven’t been posting for a while because it’s the middle of finals and I have two papers due in a little over 24 hours. One of which I haven’t started. Oops.
Anyways, a friend and I were eating lunch outside the other day. It was overcast and not to cold, so we were enjoying the breeze in one of the few days we get to wear sweaters or jackets in Arizona without fooling ourselves. Outside the little cafe, quite a lot of people had congregated. Before long, our little sanctuary was ruined by the arrival of a large group of men, five or six of them, that took the table adjacent to ours. This is not usually something that I care about, it being a large and crowed campus, but this particular group of men was especially loud and obnoxious. We debated moving, but decided not to since the only open table was covered in the droppings of our diseased urban wildlife. Plus, we were lazy.
Before long, their conversation turned to “girls”. Now, I usually don’t make a habit to eavesdrop on others. Mostly, it’s because I don’t think other people are that terribly interesting when I have someone in front of me that I actually care about, like my friend. Also, I’m not really the sort of person that thinks everyone else’s business is my business. My business is plenty interesting, or at least pressing, by itself. I couldn’t help overhearing them though, because as is the habit of a large gathering of fraternity-type men-folk, they seemed to not care that there were people in the vicinity that really didn’t give a damn about how big the dump they took last night was.
Their present topic was women. About half of the group preened and loudly proclaimed their conquests upon the fairer sex. They were very obviously quite proud of the endeavors of their shloongs. My friend and I exchanged eye-rolls. The stench of cliche was overwhelming.
The other half of the gathering, however, smiled and looked with awe upon the gods of sex that had decided to take a break from their divine life of (fabricated) fornication to bring testosterone-laden tales of their exploits to the masses. One, in the infrequent pauses (these men really liked to loudly talk over one another), made the statement, “the women here seem to be a bit more frigid than usual. How do I make the women in my major like me?”
My friend and I exchanged incredulous glances. Really? It was common knowledge that our university is full of men and women in every major that use these four years as an excuse to place as many notches in their belts as possible. If the guy really wanted to find a woman that wanted to sleep with him with very little foreplay, it was simply a question of attending the nearest frat-house post-finals party and pretending not to notice that the preferred party favors seemed to be condoms and alcohol.
The men then answered such questions with various tidbits of advice. One claimed that the ladiez really like his manly cologne. Another swore that all teh womenz will lose the panties if you accuse them of being prudes and then pressure them into sex in order to prove that they’re hip. Their conversation basically deteriorated into a squalling mass of children parroting every single known gender stereotype along with various date rape tactics. It was quite classy, if I do say so myself.
My friend had to leave about five minutes into their conversation for her next final. I left too, half-finished salad in hand, because the thought of having to listen to such tripe for any longer would kill my appetite. We walked the half mile to her classroom in the cool wind while swapping jokes about what wankstains some college men are.
After finals that day, I met more friends for coffee at a local independent bistro. We shared the horrors of finals week over glorious mochas, teas, and pastries. Life was good. Before long, the first friend brought up the asinine conversation we overheard at lunch that day. We all had a laugh at the complete douchebaggery of frat boys. The girlfriend of another girl I didn’t know very well whipped out a pen at our account of what the men told the other guy to do to “make women like him”. She decided that for the mutual benefit of us all, we should draft a manifesto of how to not act like a complete waste of oxygen around the opposite sex. This is the partial, and somewhat expanded list that followed:
How To Not Fail Spectacularly at Dating or Life in General:
1. Take a shower. Romance novels might be filled with accounts of buxom ladies reveling in the manly stench of their lovers, but no non-fictional human being actually finds the the stench of your Axe-soaked pits that haven’t been washed for week appetizing.
2. Don’t be a douchebag. Think really hard about the kind of things that your friends would think are examples of idioicy. If you have the suspicion that your friends are idiots, then think of the things that your friends do not often do. Also, if what you might be tempted to do on a date or around someone you are attracted to is against the law, it might be a good idea to not do it.
3. Don’t assume that you are special or better than anyone else. You’re not. Women are not babies. Generally, most people do not appreciate being talked down to. Just because we don’t have dangly bits doesn’t mean that we appreciate condescending behavior. If you think you are so much better than everyone else, why aren’t you at home dating your hand?
4. Don’t assume that you can “make” women like you. When you claim that you can “make” women like you, you are asking for some advice on how to cheat at a game you suppose you are losing. If you have to fool women into thinking that you are an upstanding individual with games, you’re not an upstanding individual. She’ll eventually figure this out. Nobody can act their way to decency.
5. Approach people. You are not a sex magnet. Women will not be pulled into your gravitational field by the irresistible force of your awesome sex appeal unless you are extremely famous or currently inhabiting a fictional world wherein you, the action star, are entitled to really big guns and girls with even bigger boobs. In reality, people don’t notice you exist if you glue your back to the wall. This should be obvious.
6. Just because you are interested in a woman does not mean that she is possibly interested in you. We don’t inhabit a world where the gender we are attracted to function like robots whose only purpose in life is to cater to your unspoken wants and demands. It is entirely possible that the woman you’ve been staring at for weeks and have meaningless small talk with in the elevator doesn’t know your name. This is not because she’s a bitch, but it’s because the world is populated with people that are not extensions of your consciousness. Again, like the above, this should be obvious.
7. Stop being a superficial jackass. If you know absolutely nothing about a woman other than what she looks like, and that’s all it takes for you to decide that she’s worth pursuing, you’re doing it wrong. Unless, of course, your goal is to create shallow superficial relationships with shallow superficial people that will end quickly in rejection because you’re not exactly Adonis, or later because the relationship is based on nothing of substance. However, if that kind of self-destruction is appealing to you, carry on.
8. People of the opposite sex are not children or animals. Women of learning and substance have not been “girls” since they turned eighteen. Unless you believe in some wacky witchcraft that turns animals into humans, then they’ve never been “chicks” either. Refer to women as women, and maybe we might not feel the urge to call you a “boy” and pat you on the head like a misbehaving third grader or made condescending remarks about your endowments.
9. Start looking for friends. Think really hard, if you are capable of it, of the personality traits that make you endearing to your friends. I know your minute-long belch might be impressive to acquaintances, but I’m more concerned with things like loyalty and a sense of humor that makes the people who you spend a lot of time with tolerate your presence. If you don’t have any friends of that sort, only the belching kind of acquaintances, you’re precisely the kind of person that needs psychological help, not a date. If you do have actual friends, take the traits that you bring to those relationships and apply them to your interactions with even people whose pants you’d like to be admitted to. Yes, I’m insinuating that you treat people that you are attracted to as human beings worthy of being your friends. Shocking, isn’t it?
10. Fix that shit. If at the end of the day, you find yourself wondering, “why is it that the people whom I am attracted to think I’m not worthy to wash their windows?”, you still have a problem. Some possibilities might be that you are inexplicably attracted to people that do not suit you, you are a superficial demanding piece of trash who thinks you are so special that you deserve supermodels with brains of neuroscientists and the sexual openness of a stripper, or you have a genuinely horrible personality. All of which must be fixed in order to not utterly fail at life.
Does the reading public have any more suggestions for the erstwhile male specimen that really really wants teh womenz to like him?