Why You Should Never Wait

Girls are complex creatures indeed, their depths descend deeper then perhaps I will ever fathom. It is a common consensus that women are infinitely more complicated then men, especially when it comes to the realm of romance and all its logical connections. I reached this “common consensus” with the help of two females amidst some intellectually rewarding conversation. The fact that I was 7 and 14 years their junior I’m sure was irrelevant.

However, basically the only understanding I gained was that I cannot and will not be able to understand women. I won’t be able to understand why they seem predetermined to want guys that treat them like shit and determined to treat the guys that want them like shit. This sad trend was only just disclosed to me, perhaps my eyes being truly opened for the first time in a wild and wondrous trip to Atlantic City. Being the type of man that I am, I’m always more inclined to gamble with my dignity then my money. So after giving away $150 in a hopeless game of black jack I went out with only booze on my mind. My friends though have become quasi disciples of a book called, The Game, about the art of picking up women. To completely bastardize the book and sum up all its subtleties into one line I’ve gathered that basically the way to pick up women is to simply treat them like shit. As my friends chatted excitedly about the techniques I was skeptical until I realized this would probably account for the slimness of my success in that department…that is of course if I’m not holding my lack of good looks accountable, but that’s neither here nor there. After drinking, and then dinner with drinking, and then more drinking we headed out to the Tropicana to take in that AC night life. Low and behold though, the interior section of the Tropicana had a ceiling deceptive enough to pass for the sky and I was immediately so disoriented by the bright sky above that I was wide awake. This was a very clever gimmick indeed; the more people stay awake, the more they’ll spend.

After entering the bar and seeing a tall cooler stacked with forties I knew we had come to the right place. There were groups of guidos, the pride of Jersey, to my right, some clueless Pennsylvania girls to my left, and I think an unconscious rabbi behind us slumped over in a chair, but I can’t be sure. Across the bar I recognized a group as New Yorkers by their perpetual air of boredom and superiority. I belong over there I thought, then I took a huge swig of my forty of Coors Light and realized I was right where I belonged, by the bar.

My friend, a deacon in the art of “The Game” had provided me with several plausible situations in which to enact its teachings. Out of the corner of my eye I saw he had already engaged in one as he stood conversing with two girls, neither of which I knew…the birthday tiara however spoke volumes for what I could expect. At a moment of opportunity he signaled for me to come over. I immediately went over and proceeded to make fun of the two girls he was talking to, just like the “good book” had said. After assuring them that my friend and I were both entirely too good for them, I made them laugh with some running commentary, usually only pausing to brush back more Coors. It was an enjoyable time and then at the height of their enjoyment. As I had had them laughing to the point of tears we walked away. “We gotta get back to our party now.” Without further explanation we turned and walked away.

I questioned this at first. I mean wouldn’t any self respecting woman feel so insulted by this that they’d just move on? After making a very predictable trip to the bathroom they came right back to us as we stood amongst our other friends…they were hooked. “So are you going to buy me a drink for my birthday?” Usually, I’m all too eager to share my love of drinking with others, but again I was reminded by those fateful words of deacon Frank, “thou shalt never buy a girl a drink.” “Absolutely not” I replied to the shell shocked girl. The result was even more unexpected. Not only was she now more desperate for me, she had even gone and made some poor bastard buy her a drink then come right back to me to try and get me jealous. “So Matt that guy right over there bought me a drink.” I looked over and saw some sad soul sitting by himself at the bar…if only he would’ve read the book, he’d at least still have those five bucks. “Good for him” I said, thinking exactly and you came right back to me. I had to give the book credit I was going against everything I had ever done, and success was coming easier then shooting fish in a pale.

After the forty and four kamikaze shots, in addition to the 5 hours of straight drinking previous to that I was thoroughly tight. We all then decided it was time to leave. Again we used the same technique with unabashed commitment. “Alright we gotta go, we’re heading over to Caesar’s.” The looks on their faces alone was worth saying that. “Wait, so you’re just gonna leave us?” they asked…pleaded. “You’re both welcome to come but we’re leaving now.” The game says that you should always maintain control and be unconcerned with your targets. Our “targets” chugged their drinks and hurried over to us as we were walking out.

While standing outside discussing our options leaving the girls five feet behind a group of guys approached them in what I now knew were all the wrong ways. The birthday tiara girl actually had the audacity to respond by saying “I’m with him” then walked straight up to me and kissed me. My heir of imperviousness dropped, now I was just as shell shocked as anyone else. I had done nothing but mock and ignore this girl since meeting her and she had just mouth raped me. I mean she didn’t tie me down, but the kiss was certainly not two way. As she grasped for my hand I reluctantly gave it to her, if only to keep her away from my mouth. The teachings of The Game were holy indeed, one could only imagine the power of it should it fall into the wrong hands.

Birthday tiara girl cried that night as I left her at her hotel without ever giving her a number…or a last name. I couldn’t lead her on though; I’m not in the business of asking girls to wait, of letting them hang on for a possibility that will probably never come. No, I leave that vicious and savage act to girls, I’ll just go on mindlessly drinking, at least now without the concern of emptying my wallet for female returns, I’ll tell them to buy their own drink and leave me to mine.