Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Tomorrow is my first and last date until the year 2014, based on the good ideas of my roommate Riesling, who keeps me satisfied in all ways non-sexual, and my own extraordinary willpower (Did I ever mention I received an email from a heartbreaking ex and deleted it AND emptied the trash before my worse half gave in to the desire to read it? I even impressed myself there.) And for the purposes of dating science (fuckatomology) I am going to dedicate this last outing before the seven year drought to experimentation.

No, pervert, not putting candles in my ass. I meant dating experimentation. I've been a big reader of The Rules lately, thanks to Moutarde who found it abandoned on a Park Slope stoop. The Rules are pretty lame in that the main goal is not to find love, but rather a man who will adore you and never divorce you. The book is extra lame and hilarious because both of the chicks who wrote it are now divorced. The general theme is maintain an air of independence, mystery, and beauty, without really possessing any of it. Read headlines that your man is interested in so that you can converse about his favorite topics. Don't see him every night or call him back right away. Get a nose job if you need one. Get a nose job if you don't need one. Wait five seconds before answering his date proposal (I tried practicing this and it made me seem like either an Eastern European mail bride who didn't understand English or just a plain moutarde). Incidentally, the authors claim that following the Rules will ensure that no man will beat you-- of course, men hit women because they just aren't mysterious enough.

So The Rules are out. But I'm equally intrigued by awesome music writer-turned-douchebag Neil Strauss's dating book for men, The Game. Strauss found as an ugly man who wanted to date beautiful women, all he had to do was feed them vague insults which, because all women are insecure (duh!), puts them on the defensive and makes them want to prove themselves by bedding down with the insulter. This process is called "negging" and results are best obtained with something not too harsh and slightly confusing (i.e. "Oh it looks like you inherited your father's hands.") This at first made me super mad and want to kick Neil Strauss in the crotch, even though he writes really good articles like this one, but then I came around to "negging", turning it into a skewed and incorrect contrapositive: If someone insults me that means they want to bone me! So I've been affectionately calling people "neggers" all the time (something I should not be saying with my Midwestern accent), genuinely enjoying any insults thrown my way, and most of all enjoying NOT sleeping with my insulters. Strangely, after "negging" Strauss recommends performing a magic trick. I don't know what else to say about that except: how weird.

Anyway, these techniques have been the butt of moutarded jokes for the last three weeks and I figure it's time to put them to the test. I'm sorry dear date if you turn out to be a very nice kid, but I am going to Rule you, Neg you, and probably perform an atrocious magic trick. Get ready for the worst date of your life!


Perfect Ratio said...

G: Your latest blog post is amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazing. I really truly hope that you going to actually do these things. For serious.

PR: Dude, I've been looking up magic tricks for the last 20 minutes! They're so hard! I need better hand coordination.

G:Go to Toys R Us and buy one of those little kits. You know, with the “magic” handkerchiefs?

On a more serious note, one time my mom brought Mad Libs on a date and the guy fell totally crazy in love with her, so who knows? Maybe the magic trick is the way in? Crazier things have happened ( Communism, for example).

PR:omg, that is totes brill. But do Mad libs technically count as magic tricks? Are they like, verbal illusions?

G:I think they just show that you’re not crazy and stuck-up as well as a magic trick, right? Well, maybe crazy, but not crazy-stuck-up. You should do a trick with trained pigeons! That says “wife material”.

Gaby + Simone said...

nothing says "wife material" like pulling a rabbit out of your own ass.

Perfect Ratio said...

Hmmm, I was thinking of some trick in which I clear the table and get a rabbit inserted in my ass (ta da!)at the same time. Nothing says "wife material" more than a woman who will take it while cleaning.