I’m nobody’s idea of a coxswain*, but even I know this ain’t how you do it (link via Vox Day’s site Alpha Game).
In case you don’t want to read a lot of Millennial gamma male whining, the tl;dr is “engineering student tries to get laid by pretending he’s all about the girls in STEM (but in a supportive, feminist way); fails miserably.”
Again, I’m no mack daddy, but it seems like any halfway attractive girl in STEM can write her own ticket. In some ways, you’d have an easier time picking up an 8 at the bar than a 5 in the chem lab. At least the bar is full of other 7s, 8s, 9s; competition keeps the attention from getting to her head. The STEM 5, on the other hand, is surrounded by the horniest, most awkward dudes this side of Canada. At least half of them, I’m sure, think moves like this guy’s are the way to go… plus doing her homework, carrying her books, and whatever else figures into the STEM guys’ weird, 1950ish idea of “romance.”
As it turns out, I have some experience in this area. I had lots of high school friends who went to the pricey, private, elite engineering school across town from my crappy public college. Since engineers all drink like fish in college, I was forever hopping on the bus to go throw down a few with my buddies – their parties seemingly aimed for a 1:1 keg:person ratio. One night, I found myself getting the coldest shoulder imaginable from this barely passable chick. Again, I’m not Don Juan, but there’s no way I should’ve been getting blown out by this maybe 6-in-low-light-and-after-a-few-shots. And I do mean blown out — she did everything short of pulling down my pants and laughing.
But then a weird thing happened. I got back to my buddies, and they were all high-fiving and congratulating me for even getting five minutes with this chick. I was baffled, until they explained to me that I’d been hitting on the hottest girl in school. Like, she was the homecoming queen, dated the quarterback, etc. etc., and I was apparently some kind of stud for even having the balls to talk to her. Now, we were all well on our way to wasted at the time, but my buddies couldn’t grok it when I explained to them that this engineering uber-babe wouldn’t have even been the best looking girl on my dorm floor, and what’s more, guys, you and I went to high school together…. we were constantly surrounded by much better looking girls than this. Hell, we’d dated girls who were at least as good looking, and we — or, at least, you — are the kind of guys who’d end up at an elite engineering school….
See what I mean? All the dorks pining after her had given this chick impenetrable bitch armor. I’m not sure any amount of “Game” would’ve worked on her, until you got her out of that weird little world and around normal girls for a few hours. I’m well out of the dating scene now, but if I had to give some advice to guys like my friends (or, sadly, myself) back in the days, it’d be “plenty of fish, dude. Plenty of fish. It’s a cliche because it’s true. Find out where the Education majors hang out — they’re easy.”
But, alas, this is the Age of Asperger’s. If I said “plenty of fish in the sea, dude,” this poindexter would probably rent a boat….
*PS: I’m aware that coxswain is a naval rate; I just think it sounds funny.
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