Playing the Game
Hello,
I went out with a woman last week, and the night was a complete disaster. First, she demanded that I pick her up even though the restaurant is right next to my condo. Second, she got really offended when, as a joke, I veered to hit a homeless man with my car. Third, she called me an “arrogant jerk” for bringing a toothbrush and change of clothes with me on the date.
What really made me mad, though, was that she constantly checked her phone throughout dinner. I was trying to dominate the conversation with fictional tales of adventure as you prescribe in your level 22 eBook, Gullible’s Travels: Reinventing Your Past with Jimmy Suede, but she was too busy sending text messages to pay attention.
What should I have done to maintain control of the date?
Josh from Boston
Josh!
It sounds like your date was a total ice queen. There’s not much you can do to salvage an evening if the woman isn’t willing to have a good time. When I realize that a woman I’m taking out is a complete dud, I usually spill a drink on myself and claim to be too drunk to function.
But your date had absolutely no reason to ignore you simply because your sense of humor and magnetic personality intimidated her. Women get defensive when their inhibitions and social programming are completely overwhelmed by a man’s brute sexuality. You’re emitting too much carnal masculinity through your actions and appearance, and it’s scaring women off. I suggest wearing an ugly sweater or not shaving on your next date.
That’s not to say that this bad date was all your fault. Guys like us can’t control our overpowering sexuality — it’s either the result of psychological conditioning by absentee parents or a superpower developed after being bitten by a radioactive spider. But our emotional disabilities and 6th “spider” senses don’t mean we have to be stepped on by women, Josh. The way I see it, you had two options on your date.
One: Immediately leave. The second her attention wandered from your story about summiting Everest with the stranded Czech climber you rescued from death on your back, you should have slammed your silverware on the table, knocked your chair over, and left the restaurant. If you drive a large SUV or pick-up truck, you should have driven it over a fire hydrant or mailbox; if you’re in a sports car, you should have done donuts in the parking lot and then peeled out of the driveway.
The best way to communicate your feelings is to act erratically, Josh. No one ever mistook a person making a wild, inappropriate scene for being happy. How do you think I scored free checking at my bank?
Two: One-up her. If your date is sending text messages, make a phone call. If she’s checking her email, send a fax from the restaurant. If she recognizes a long-lost friend or relative and insists on “catching up,” get drunk and relentlessly hit on every woman within striking distance. This woman was testing you, Josh — she wanted to see how starved for her attention you were.
The first step to becoming a player is realizing that you have options. How many women exist on this planet — a million? Using the Drake Equation to systematically quantify the number of intelligent civilizations in other galaxies, how many women could possibly exist in the entire Universe? Three million? Why should you settle for this uptight girl scout when you could be getting down with a four-armed, female-like being from Alpha Centauri that loves to party? Do the math, Josh.
You have absolutely no reason to put up with tests from women. A player is only involved in one game — his own. And looking at the board, it appears that I own Boardwalk and Park Place. Pay up, ladies.
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