Dating 101

[Hogg]

I'm the Internet nerd but you're the one who comes to a message board trying to prove you can get girls by telling us appearance matters.

[ckBejug]

How about this?

Don't lie
Don't be an @$$hole
Don't be insecure
Smile

It's that simple, really.

[Anonymouse]

Well, Clubbin, I suggest a more subtle yet shocking method.

How about you just walk up to a woman and begin clubbing them like a caveman and drag them by their hair to the desired location ( preferrably a bedroom ), and the rest is history.

[ckBejug]

Originally posted by Anonymouse Well, Clubbin, I suggest a more subtle yet shocking method.

How about you just walk up to a woman and begin clubbing them like a caveman and drag them by their hair to the desired location ( preferrably a bedroom ), and the rest is history.

Is this something you fancy doing to a girl mousey??

[clubbin714]

clubbin looking for his next victim

[Anonymouse]

Well that's nice. I see you don't even have to use the club for that chick to follow you with beer.

[loseyourname]

Originally posted by Hogg lol @ that voice thing. It's not like guys can control how deep their voice is. The rest is all common sense and I doubt anyone who reads this thread is going to get more dates because of it.

I doubt anyone reading this thread is going to get any dates, period. Except me.

[dstyle]

hey lose that sucks man, i can kinda get dates sheeeeet, lol.

[anileve]

I say that you all consider investing your money in purchasing blowup dolls. It would be more practical than bragging about your imaginary dates. Perverts.

[loseyourname]

Imaginary date #1:

Her name was Eva. I believe she was of some form of Meditarranean descent, but that is beside the point. She was new to California, and I met her at that tourist mecca modeled after ancient Babylon. She was taking photographs and I couldn't help but notice that she had a copy of Beyond Good and Evil falling out of her bag. I picked it up for her and mentioned that the ravings of a syphilitic maniac are not to be taken too seriously. She replied that she had been a nihilist, and that it had cost her an apartment she used to dwell in on the lower east side of NYC. I told her the people watching at babylon was nothing compared to Washington Square; she asked if I played chess. I replied that I used to, but upon losing to an 8 year-old, I decided to give it up for more productive things. I mentioned that I liked her shoes and particularly the laces. She said I looked homeless, but I was cute anyway.

I decided to walk her to her bus stop when it occured to me that I might have a lot to offer her. So I offered her a ride and the thought of declining did not seem to cross her mind. When I asked her where I was taking her, she said "I don't care, just so long as I've never been there before." So we arrived several hours later at a themed hotel near Joshua Tree. We asked for the plantation room. I asked if I could refer to her as 'Miss Scarlet' and she said it was fine so long as she could call me 'Master Adam.' I called up the front desk and asked that they bring us their finest malt liquor in a 40oz. bottle, two. That and a box of Ritz crackers. Eva and I then laid together and she asked why I had taken her out there. It was the weather more than anything, and the solitude that the desert brings. You can lose yourself in the crowd in large cities and there was no place for that when all you want is to lose yourself in one person. I hadn't noticed previously that her eyes were gray or that her right ankle bore the scar of a surgical procedure.

Eva's lips tasted like an apple dipped in sugar. Her lower body was firmer than her upper and I guessed that she must run on a regular basis. We flipped on the television and turned it to a rerun of Six Feet Under as we grew acquainted with one another's bodies. I said I preferred that the lights remain on, that I couldn't imagine a Mohave without the glow of her forehead. It was at that point that I lost all comprehension; she continued to speak but I have no idea what she said. She communicated through direct melding of fingers to genitals. I asked that she leave her shoes on and that she stare into my eyes as she knelt before me. It was distracting, certainly, but I wanted to be reminded that it wasn't a connection to her mouth I was aiming for.

The following morning we awoke to a phone call placed to the incorrect number. I couldn't remember her name and was forced to refer to her as 'Miss Scarlet.' I asked where exactly she lived and when she wanted to return. She said that she lived "in the moment" and was already there. It is common fallacy that the desert is largely lifeless. The fact that the followers of Joseph Smith had felt these plants looked like the welcoming arms of the prophet Joshua bewildered the both of us. To me they looked like coathangers, and Miss Scarlet felt they bore an uncanny resemblance to taxonomic trees drawn in high school biology texts. When she held my hand, I must admit that the rest of my body went numb. She was all I could feel and every sound but that of her saccharine voice faded like an aural sunset.

From that point forward I have no recall of what happened. I woke up this morning and my sheets were soaked.