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How to stay in my pants
How to stay in my pants
I'm an incredibly good-looking woman who happens to be attracted to really geeky, nerdy, squiggly-looking guys. As such, I'm uniquely qualified to give advice to men who can't manage to sustain the one sexual relationship they miraculously stumble into during their dreary filled-with-TV-dinner lives.
I've had dozens of technogeek relationships, and somehow they all turn out the same. At some point, (and this can happen surprisingly early on) you geeks stop being grateful for the one woman on earth who deigns to sleep with you and you transform into a monster, much like that girl who Marsha Brady did the makeover on.
Okay, guys, clearly you need some helpful hints in this area. Most of you are pretty good at getting in my pants. You're intelligent, bashful, sweet. You have a nervous charm. It's staying in my pants that you can't seem to manage. And then you run around crying your eyes out because I've dumped you like a tank of oil on a freight bound for Alaska.
Here's how to prevent that kind of anguish:
1. Don't tell me, while lying in bed after the first time we have sex, that my breasts are almost as nice as [insert woman's name here]. For one thing, you've never even laid eyes on her stretch-marked, I've-had-three-kids titties. (Hey, I go to the same gym as these women you lust after, I know.) If you've only seen that other female's breasts covered by a shirt or, worse, in an airbrushed porn photo, please do not dare to compare mine to hers. In fact, if I've had the charity to fuck you, do not dare to compare mine, period. You may think that since I've ceased to be the goddess you once only dreamt of sleeping with, that you no longer have to treat me with respect. Wrong, you poor sod. My status has been *elevated.* I'm now the goddess who will actually sleep with you.
2. Don't pick over my body and ask questions like, "Do you shave or wax?" Consider yourself lucky I bother at all, you hairy bastard. You've been lusting after me for six months, falling all over yourself whenever you happened to see me in a skirt. So don't start acting all superior just because society demands supersonic high-intensity grooming for women, whereas you guys don't even own a fucking comb.
3. Don't, and I don't care how innocent you think it may be, tell me how attracted you are to [insert movie star, model, girl we just passed on the street, roommate, porn star, coworker, my best friend's name here]. Hey, if you can get Jennifer Aniston to sleep with you, more power to you. Otherwise, I don't want to hear about it. Your delusions of grandeur are of no interest to anyone but yourself and your psychiatrist. Be grateful for what you've got. I guarantee you'll miss it when it's gone.
4. If you had to have a colostomy in your early twenties, and you are hooked up by your thigh to a machine every night that feeds you intravaneously, and I am the first woman you've ever had sex with, do NOT ask me in a snide tone if I'm going to wear my hair that way. The answer is yes, I am. I changed the part in my hair, you anal-retentive fuck, because I know more about trendy women's hair fashions than you do, and you'll just have to deal with it. Oh, and my prediction that you would die 7 years later without ever having had sex with another woman proved to be correct. I wonder what you thought about on your deathbed: that year of mind-blowing sex with me, or that evening I wore my hair that funny way and then afterward broke up with you for making me feel insecure and miserable just before going out to dinner with all your friends.
5. Don't spend three hours looking at Internet porn if I'm in the other room waiting to fuck you. I will leave you. Seriously. Nothing you say, from, "I didn’t want to ask you, I thought you might be tired" to "Those girls are so fake" will get you back into my good graces. And after I leave you, you will be on antidepressants for at least six months, you will lose at least two jobs, and you will go at least three years without sex. Do not fuck with the goddess.
6. Reading Maxim, or any publication that is similar to Maxim, does not make you attractive and manly. It makes you look sad and small. Once you get a girlfriend, you need to cut that shit out. (Tip: For best results, cut it out before there’s any off-chance a woman might accidentally stumble into your apartment.)
7. Clean up your fucking house, for God's sake. If a woman you are dating tells you she can't sleep over because she's allergic to dust, HIRE A DAMN SERVICE. Do whatever you have to. Scrub that fucking crud off your bathtub before you join the legions of desperate men on AdultFriendFinder who can only dream of being in your position.
8. If you have not had sex for at least two years (or, in most cases, ever), you are a nerd. Do not trust your own fashion sense, interior design sense, social skills, or romantic prowess. If a woman buys you a nice shirt, wear it, you idiot. Just because it isn't a t-shirt you got free at a computer game convention doesn't mean you will look "weird" in it. Trust your technical skills. Trust your hacky sack skills. Trust your money-management skills. Just, please, defer to your girlfriend for fashion.
9. If ANYONE (not just the goddess you are lucky enough to sleep with) EVER says the following, DO NOT ARGUE. JUST PAY ATTENTION: "You need to brush your teeth." "You should wash your hair more often." "The napkin goes in your lap." "Do your jeans smell?" "Don't blow your nose at the table." "You're not supposed to lick the inside of a latte glass with your tongue." These customs may seem strange to you, but learning them will, I promise, increase your infinitesimal chances of getting laid.
10. Don't make puns. Hint: If people groan instead of laugh, it's not funny. If your sex goddess specifically requests that you stop making puns, grant that request swiftly and without remorse. You'll be richly rewarded.
11. Do not ever express disgust regarding a woman's menstrual period. If you want access to that vagina, approach it with reverence. It would be one thing if I bled all over your sheets. If the mere mention of a tampon makes you queasy, you're not mature enough to have sex.
12. Having slept with a wide variety of men and even a few women, there are some things I know unequivocally about myself: I have amazingly soft skin. Incredible breasts. Fantastic technique. And beautiful eyes. TELL ME THIS. The minute (okay, maybe not the minute, but sometime the same month) I stop hearing compliments from you, I'm out the door. Life is too short. If you can't observe some tiny thing to love about me (long eyelashes, big grin, silky hair) then you don't deserve me. Hey, I found nice things to say about the colostomy guy who had dandruff, bad breath, and a tendency to embarrass me in public. Because I sincerely loved him and desired him before he turned into the monstrous jerk who lost all appreciation for how great I am. Let that be a lesson to you.
13. That said, don’t make up overblown, pathetic, self-deprecating compliments. Do NOT, under any circumstances, state that you don't know why women prefer assholes. That is simply your whiny, passive-aggressive way of saying, "She should fuck me instead of that handsome stud with a personality." Actually, I guess this advice falls more under the heading "How to Get Into My Pants" but I end up hearing up that type of whine a lot after I've left Mr. Geeky for Mr. Glamorous. Chances are the "asshole" has table manners, good hygiene, and a healthy interest in improving his sexual technique. Which makes you the asshole.
14. Be flexible. Just because you have your lonely little life all set up around watching Star Trek every night at midnight, or playing MUDD (I think that's what it's called) every Sunday afternoon, or eating boxed macaroni and cheese three times a week, doesn't mean you can't change in response to new information. Like, HELLO, you're getting laid now! That's BETTER THAN Star Trek. Maybe drop one of those sad little time-fillers now that you have a life. You hold onto it at your peril.
15. Spend a little money. I'm not saying go over budget--I hate financial irresponsibility--but c'mon. You lived with your parents until you were 30. You have like 100k in the bank. Your mom buys your underwear. Take me out to dinner once in a fucking while. I'm not saying every time we go out. But please stop offering to make me spaghetti with a "homemade" sauce from dried spices and canned tomatoes. Be willing to try something different, or eventually I'm going to get bored and realize that I'd rather go out to dinner alone than help you make another oregano special with water to drink.
16. Last but not least, before attempting our first kiss, spit out your damn chewing gum.
With your help, I might finally have a chance at the lifetime of geek love to which I aspire.