Ebooks Do Not Get You Dates

If you try and you don’t succeed, write an ebook about it and pretend you did.

This is the motto of the notorious pick-up artist community. It’s difficult to pinpoint why exactly a fledgling Mr. Bean would place his romantic hopes and dreams in the power of an ebook. Maybe it’s the last resort? The final stop before permanent celibacy is all but confirmed.

However, many guys (and ladies) still believe that the answers to their loneliness are waiting to be found in the digital diarrhea otherwise referred to as “pickup-artist handbooks”. Because getting a date is as simple as practicing steps 1 to 4 until she consents, right?

Without crapping on an entire industry in three short paragraphs, I should confess that I do believe there is SOME good to be taken out of the pick-up artist scene. Many of the laws of attraction you hear preached are actually rooted to self-confidence and overcoming insecurity.

It would be difficult to argue with even the most seasoned pickup sleazeball when it comes to addressing that confidence = everything in the dating game.

But that’s rarely the reason behind these skyrocketing ebook sales. The big hook is the idea of “Attract anybody you desire, it doesn’t matter who! These methods know no bounds!”. Confidence can improve your love life. But there isn’t a secret trick in the world that can make you attractive to a specified individual. Attraction does not work on demand.

Time and time again, I see blog comments from skirt chasers who honestly believe they can win the heart of a girl by following a set formula of steps. It just doesn’t work like that. An ebook can teach you how to become more attractive, generally speaking, but it can never give you the power to change somebody’s will.

So I suppose the question remains, just how many of these pick-up artist followers are actually interested in attracting a single lover? I would not hesitate to guess very few. The appeal behind the industry is power and control. How to attract admiration, lust and attraction from a crowd, without having to give anything in return.

It shouldn’t take an ebook to teach you that the single greatest aid for finding romance is confidence in yourself. This is a state of mind that translates in to attraction through the eyes of others. If you can’t sleep with who you are as a person, don’t expect anybody else to. No matter how many ebooks you buy.

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Why Do Women Obsess Over Finding “The One”?

There is a theory that women lose vastly more sleep over finding “the one” than your average guy. I believe we all love the idea of a perfect harmony. A relationship that makes the rest look meaningless. But women are much more prone to anxiety bouts related to that elusive search.

It seems the common explanation is that women are simply blessed with less time than men. Our biological clocks are wired to different life cycles that can make it difficult for a woman to attract men in her later years. That’s not what Cougar Date suggests, but it’s a reasonable explanation.

I stumbled across this opinion on Yahoo. See what you think:

“Men can father children at age 80. After 35, female fertility decreases, and chances of birth defects increase. Many women would like to be able to be married for a couple years first, with no kids, just to enjoy each other. Then if you consider that you never know if you might run into fertility problems, so it might take a few years, and then if you want more than one child, you better get started before age 30. So, with a couple years of “trying” in there, and a couple years of just enjoying married life, that puts you at 26 for getting married. And most of us would like to have dated and gotten to know the person for a few years first, so that puts you at 24 for meeting your future husband, if you want to follow your plan. No wonder young women are in a rush.”

I can understand the thinking, but I can’t help but feel sorry for any woman who is compelled to live life in this way. If you’re overwhelmed with a sense of time is running out before your 25th birthday, I struggle to see how you can truly understand the concept of “the one”.

Isn’t the perfect blend of love a creation that should overcome small matters such as being 24 or 54? If you base it purely on the platform it builds for your personal ambitions (to have six kids, or to call yourself a mother), then it isn’t a true love at all. It’s just a replacement for the feeling of loneliness you created in yourself.

The passage above could convince any girl to believe that her life is a parallel race against the nature of fertility. My solution? Stop caring about kids. Seriously, if the prospect of having a child is enough for you to mould your life ten years in advance, you’re ignoring many of the great joys life has to offer. Joys that don’t chain you to a pram.

Joys such as, I don’t know, not being dragged out of bed at 4am in the morning. Or being able to chase a successful career without handicapping yourself at the starting post.

I believe many women create problems and stresses for themselves by confining their hopes and dreams to an ancient way of thinking – build home, have kids, job done. This makes the search for Mr. Perfect less of a pleasure and more of a savage free-for-all. Nobody can guarantee that you will find the man of your dreams. But if you can’t accept that you’ll be perfectly okay without him, this insecurity will get the better of you.

I see so many old high school friends (all under 25) with more than one kid, no job, and Facebook statuses that have me erring between pitiful sympathy and anger at their reliance on the state. Did they really enjoy sacrificing everything to raise families so young?

How many mothers would suggest of their children – “Yes, I’d love for my daughter to be a mother of two by 18.” You never hear this. Their daughters are going to achieve great things and realise their dreams. They’ll be rich and famous, says the proud mother! This is lovely fighting talk. Really nice. But why did they never feel that way for themselves?

I think a growing number of women are becoming more career minded and waking up to the realisation their own lives are worth living. This is hardly a uniform argument for all women being young, stupid and pregnant. But the hunt for Mr Perfect goes on.

In centuries gone by, the need to marry young and have children was facilitated by a low life expectancy and a distorted society that made it impossible for women to prosper in any other way. But in 2011, 40 is the new 30 and women can be independent if they so wish.

Statistics back up that couples are marrying much older than they did a decade ago. There’s clearly no rush to find Mr. Perfect, but you could be fooled if you dared to visit the watercooler in a female orientated office. What Sally got up to with Jason on Friday night is all you’ll bloody hear about. And this leads me to believe that women obsess over finding Mr. Right primarily because it suits them so.

Biology has nothing on the gossip a woman would lose by downplaying the trials and tribulations of love!

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Why It Sucks To Be Kate Middleton

I have to be honest, I could barely give two shits about the royal wedding. I’m only writing about it because everybody else is. I don’t have anything against Prince William. He seems like the lesser of several prehistoric evils currently lurking in the Royal Family. And Kate Middleton is pretty hot. Nothing against Kate. I just think it sucks to be her.

Who would want to be a princess?

Okay, so most young girls. The same girls you’d find snorting coke up a wall if they ever had the chance.

I’ve always imagined the life of a princess to be 5% cute fuzzies and 95% pain in the arse.

When you strip away the Disney fairytale of being a royal, you’re left with the personal burden of suppressing your entire self and becoming the paparazzi’s newest plaything. As much as people loved Diana, the love and fame came at the price of her life. I’m sure Kate Middleton, the brand, is about to go up in the world. But for the person filling those shoes, it’s going to take more than a tiara and a forced smile to keep the wolf at the door.

Many soon-to-weds feel growing pressure and unease as their big day draws near. So imagine the nerves for the poor couple who have to contend with their big day being a public fucking holiday. I mean, seriously, cancel now and you’re going to get lynched by half of a country that already made plans for that extra day off work.

The happiest day of your life is to be screened on the BBC! I’m assuming they’ll have the Eastenders drumroll ready just in case things go awry at the top of the hour. Christ, it wouldn’t surprise me if Kate comes sprinting away from Westminster, straight in to the Queen Vic for a fistfight with Phil Mitchell who somehow shags his way in to the credits.

I’m sure the wedding will go off without a hitch, and the new couple will live happily ever after in a distant pampered palace. Which is exactly why I won’t be watching it, morbid curious goat that I am. But for Kate Middleton, there’ll be more than enough eyeballs tuned in to her every move to make every decision of her future life a tough one.

Have fun with that, Princess!

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The Good Wife Guide Of 1955

Ever wondered what your husband REALLY wants? It’s probably a time machine so he can go back to 1955.

Behold, the “Good Wife Guide”, as published in a 1955 school girl’s textbook:

The Good Wife Guide

• Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have be thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they get home and the prospect of a good meal is part of the warm welcome needed.

• Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you’ll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.

• Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

• Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. Run a dustcloth over the tables.

• During the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering to his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

• Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Encourage the children to be quiet.

• Be happy to see him.

• Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.

• Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first – remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

• Don’t greet him with complaints and problems.

• Don’t complain if he’s late for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through at work.

• Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or lie him down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.

• Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

• Don’t ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

• A good wife always knows her place.

To any guys reading this,

I double dare you to print these guidelines, pin them on the fridge and take a photo of the look on your girl’s face as she reaches for the milk. Quadruple points for anybody who happens to be dating a feminist.

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Would You Date America’s Next Top Model?

Reality television is something I try to avoid for fear of losing my last remaining brain cells. But when my girlfriend seizes control of the remote, I often suffer the displeasure of encountering dinosaurs like Kim Kardashian (Keeping Up With The Kardashians), Scary Spice and whoever the hell else happens to be airing their dirty laundry for all to see at the time.

A reality show that struck a chord with me quite recently is the notorious America’s Next Top Model. Or as I prefer to call it…America’s Next Total Wench.

What a great idea. Let’s watch a bunch of catty bitches argue amongst themselves while occasionally taking a photo that serves to remind us of only one thing. Beauty is skin deep. And often stupid.

Everything I hate about reality television can be summed up in the name of the show. Come on, lady. If you REALLY had a hope in Hell of becoming America’s Next Top Model, you wouldn’t be making a prat out of yourself on Star TV. You’d have been plucked from the audition line long before it got to the point of me choking on my popcorn at how much of a fuck-up you are.

I’ve never had the opportunity to live in America, so I can’t say this with any degree of certainty. But if the women are anything like those to be found on America’s Next Top Model – dumb, shallow as a fart with egos to rival Tyra Banks herself – I can safely say I’d never want to.

And what about Kim Kardashian? Jesus Christ, don’t even get me started on Kim Kardashian. What exactly has this bint contributed to the world other than a sex tape and the unfortunate legacy of her clan’s stupidity frozen on tape? Yet, shiver me timbers, I’m told Keeping Up With The Kardashians draws in a regular viewership of over 3 million households.

Do girls actually aspire to be like these shallow socialites?

Do guys actually get off on the idea of dating one?

To each his or her own. I’m not going to judge. I’m just going to sit here and bury my head in the world’s largest facepalm.

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Nice Guys Finish Last… Yeah, And You’re An Asshole

“Nice guys finish last” is a phrase that I’d like to grab by the neck and jam down the throat of any guy who dares to use it. We all like to find excuses for our own ineptitude in love. But to say that our failings are ever the result of being too nice is a screaming alarm bell that you’re overlooking the real problem.

Besides the cliche, my biggest problem with “nice guys finish last” is that you’d have to be a complete and utter moron to think that somebody is more likely to fall for your charms based on what YOU see in your bathroom mirror.

In fact, it’s usually the case that the self-righteous nice guys are the biggest pricks of all. If you have to resort to assumptions that you’re a good person and deserve to be loved, you haven’t grasped the point of the damn feeling. So instead of blaming singledom on an entire gender’s failure to appreciate your niceties, it’s time to start questioning where you’re really going wrong.

Do girls like bad boys? Is that really what it is?

Do I have to put my cap on backwards, grab a leather jacket and slap her in the face before I ask for a date?

No, you don’t. You just have to act like a NORMAL respectable guy with enough wit and self-awareness to let her feelings take their own course. And here’s the catch. More often than not, those feelings will fail to materialize in to unbridled passion for your loins. If you assume that as a nice guy you’re entitled to her affection, your once supreme confidence is going to resemble the ruins of Rome by the time she’s through with you.

“Nice guys finish last” is a myth created to make losers feel better about themselves. Or to find meaning where there truly is none. Let’s face it, if you were actually a nice guy, you wouldn’t be so bitter in the face of rejection.

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Burqas On The Beach, Let Your Hair Out!

It’s kinda strange to watch Muslim couples at beach resorts. Especially when the wife is wearing a burqa while the husband walks several steps ahead in brightly flared beach shorts. It’s like he has an invitation to a party with Plus None on the ticket.

I’ve just returned from a very uneventful 5 day break in Malaysia. And by uneventful, I obviously mean I spent the entire holiday flat on my back turning crimson red under the scorching sun.

Penang is a strange island. My choice of hotel was a bizarre clusterfuck of every different nationality under the sun. But by far the most noticeable guests were those floating around the pool in burqas. Of course, I’m not talking literally. And that’s why they were the strangest.

It’s hard not to feel sorry for the Muslim wife whose fashion choices, voluntary or otherwise, have restricted her to the world’s worst Panda tanlines. But why would a Muslim couple decide to go on a BEACH holiday when it’s fairly obviously that much of the appeal is going to be numbed by your wife’s inability to actually engage in any of the shit that makes beach holidays…you know…fun?

• Hanging arse-first out of the Jacuzzi bar.

• Laying spreadeagled in the sand and challenging the sun to do it’s worst.

• Propping up the deep-end on a plastic float.

None of this is possible for Burqa Jean.

My stay in Penang was scattered with sightings of one particular couple who spent their days wandering around the hotel resort, sitting somewhere for five minutes, before meandering off again and repeating elsewhere. Let’s be honest, that’s what most couples do. It’s no worse than sitting by the pool and vegetating with a book. But I can at least understand that the old fogies get a kick out of this relaxing wind-down.

This Muslim couple never talked to each other. The Burqa-clad wifey would trail several meters behind and follow her husband like a puppy on a string. It was surreal. But then, what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t sunbathe, nor venture in to the sea, nor let her hair down out in the pool.

If her purpose was to look discrete and not draw attention in the sweeping veil, it backfired spectacularly. People spend MORE time staring if you place yourself in a black sheet and ghost around the pool like a Dementor that took a wrong turning.

I’m sure her religious choices are far more important than a bastard like me people-watching from my high horse, but I can’t even begin to imagine the sacrifices that must come with committing to a life under the burqa.

I find the clothing to be very pretentious. It’s designed to keep out the luring stares of men and any sordid soul who dares to feel the pinch in his loins. But as a fairly red blooded guy laying there in the sand, I’m thinking to myself…”Christ, love. Go and enjoy yourself in the sea. I’ll cover up my face if you’re that antsy about anybody watching.”

Respecting various religions on my travels is something I’m always keen to abide by, which is why I’m committing these thoughts to a blog rather than the hotel lobby. But I can never, and will never, agree with the burqa as a traditional, religious or personal statement.

Besides, those panda tanlines…

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Engaged After Six Weeks? You Muppet

I have a friend who’s adamant that she’s not making a huge mistake by getting engaged. The fact that she’s only been dating for six weeks tells me all I need to know. I really don’t understand the tendencies of young naive lovers to desperately clutch at marriage as a declaration of their happiness.

Why do people rush to get married when their whole lives are ahead of them?

My friend is 21. She’s a devout Christian and as such, I’d be lying if I hadn’t joked with my friends about the reason for her marriage being based on sex. She’s one of those girls who wants to wait for marriage to “give herself away”. And yet she’s the kind of horny fiend who always puts our filthy minds to shame around the table on Pub Quiz night.

If you’re trying to make a grand gesture of waiting until marriage to have sex, I would imagine that much of that gesture is washed away by rushing to the church after barely two months of dating. That’s not really patience, is it? You might not be committing a sin of sex before marriage, but you’re guilty of stupidity on a biblical scale.

It’s emotional suicide. I don’t see why a happy couple would feel the need to commit themselves to insta-marriage if they were truly secure in their relationship. After all, if you’re planning on spending a lifetime together, why the rush?

I also feel a little sorry for her parents who are being forced to summon the financial support to let this sham of an event go ahead. I honestly hope the marriage works out for my friend – because she’s a good friend – but if it doesn’t, I’ll be offering sympathy through gritted teeth.

Personally, marriage isn’t something that appeals to me in the foreseeable future. I’m in a happy relationship so what more do I need? A paper slip and grand celebration to show the world that I’m in love? No thank you. Maybe I’d feel differently if my spirituality didn’t require me to be hitched before getting a shag!

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WLTM Girl For Steak And Blowjob Day

I have a friend who is adamant. He believes there is a time to date, and a time to run from relationships like they’re doused in Anthrax. He calls it the “season of dating”.

What the hell is a season of dating? That was my first question. He replied that a season of dating would be the time that runs from February 15th to the month before Christmas. He could be accused of being a cheapskate and simply not wanting to buy gifts, right? He is that kind of hardline bastard, after all. Not that it ever seems to stop him from getting the girls.

Ask most guys and they’ll tell you their favourite season is Halloween. We all love to celebrate a good fancy dress eyeballing fest. Mainly because it’s the one occasion where our girlfriends get dressed up in the kind of whoreish outfits that would get us slapped for even suggesting on a routine shop.

“So what have you come as?” My bedroom fantasies, usually. Thank god for October 31st.

Anyway, I also asked this friend if he policed his love life to avoid girls who celebrated birthdays in the “peak season”. Is there any hope for the sweetheart born in summer? Or is the thought of a journey to Clintons enough to call it a day? As long as she realizes it means nothing, was his answer. Bloody charming.

According to my friend’s logic, February to November is the period of casual skirmishing where it’s perfectly okay to have a girlfriend because she isn’t going to get big hopes. Summer romancing is laid back, he claimed. It comes without heavy commitment and it’s not until Christmas that she’ll sink her claws in to your balls. I pretty much laughed in his face. From my experience, women are capable of grabbing you by the balls anytime they see fit.

But he definitely has a point about waiting until after Valentines Day before making your move. I mean, Jesus, if ever there was a holiday designed to hit the wallet and not the purse…it’s fucking Valentines Day.

Make your move in March, however, and the first holiday you’ll be celebrating together is my personal favourite – Steak and Blowjob Day.

So can you imagine my luck when I started dating a girl just in time for Match 14th’s Steak & Blowjob Day – literally, like the god damn weekend before. What was the first thing I discovered about my new girlfriend? Oh only that she was born on March 14th.

Talk about a burst balloon. I think she felt me deflate on the spot. I tried to bargain in vain. We can go out for the swankiest lunch! I’ll buy you the biggest diamond! Just give me my steak and blowjob, baby.

But it was a lost cause. Not even the slightest sniff of a sirloin round her parents’ packed dining table.

I guess that’s why our relationship never worked out.

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