I’ve described before, you might remember, my basic MO when it comes to interaction with the opposite sex. Basically, the approach consists of two distinct steps:
Step 1: Get her to like you. And I mean really, really like you. There are a variety of tricks to this, including, but not limited to:
- Hinting vaguely at serious commitment.
- Using her name whenever possible.
- Telling her friends that you like her but never telling her.
- Winking knowingly across the table/room during parties.
- Picking her for your beer pong team even though she probably sucks.
- Calling her right after she leaves a party to tell her you miss her already and then running out the door and across the lawn to kiss her romantically in front of everyone.
Step 2: Nothing. This is basically as simple as it sounds. Once she really, really likes you, you just do nothing. You don’t ignore her – that’s not what I mean. You keep talking to her, but just refuse to move the relationship forward. When she questions you on this, you ask “what relationship?” She stammers for a minute and then says… “you know, us.”
After a moment of furrowed-brow stare, you make as if it just dawned on you and go “ohhhh, ok. I didn’t know what… haha, yeah.” Then you shake your head. “So, can I get you another drink?”
This really drives the girls crazy. First it drives them crazy like “oh, she’s going crazy for you!” crazy. They think you’re mysterious, they want to know more about you, they want to crack your hard exterior, they’re convinced they understand you better than anyone else, etc.
Then, after a while, it drives them crazy like angry, pissed off “you’re driving me crazy!” crazy. They want commitment, or at least to know what the hell is going on and is this a relationship, or what the hell is it? And you’re just dodging the questions, dancing along the verbal tightrope like an old pro, and she gets tired of it. At this stage she usually threatens to go after other guys. You have this conversation:
Her: “If you’re not even going to tell me what you’re thinking, then maybe we shouldn’t be exclusive, then!”
You: “I didn’t know we were exclusive.”
Her: “Very funny. You’re impossible.”
More often than not, she’ll get drunk one night and convince herself that she deserves better. She’ll find some male shoulder to cry on and probably end up hooking up with him. Then she’s better for a week or so. She’s independent, she’s happier, she looks great. Then she gets drunk again and this time, feels incredibly guilty. She comes back to you doe-eyed, apologizing with tears glistening on her mascara and swearing “I know we can make this work,” only to deflate like a blow up doll when you tell her you don’t really care that she scored with that dude. Except more emotionally than a blow up doll.
At this point, it drives her crazy like literally “holy balls, you’re batshit insane!” crazy. Her reactions can range from trying to hook up with your friends to accusing you of rape to quitting her job and moving to Poughkeepsie.
The problem is, the point is, that approach doesn’t really work. I know what you’re thinking – come on, that’s GOT to work! It’s pure gold! But you’re wrong, it doesn’t.
It makes you laugh, and it makes you feel like a powerful person when you tell your friends the story and laugh, but after a few years of breaking down girls emotionally so that they’ll need you - only to see them break down so far and so hard that they’re not even fun to hang out with any more, you start to feel like a lonely husk of a man.
But just before you get to that absolute low, that terrible feeling of self-loathing, while you’re still, just barely, in normal mode, you hit a marvelously strange intermediate point, a point at which you will, to your later disbelief, mail a $200 bouquet of roses to a girl with a note that says, simply, “whatever.”
And then, before you can really begin to appreciate what is clearly a new brand of insanity, you find a website on which you can watch every single episode of Arrested Development for free, and you never find out what that next stage would have been. Not yet, anyway.