My boyfriend wants me to send him nude pics

My boyfriend wants me to send him nude pictures. I don’t know if I should because they could get passed around if something happens. If I do send nude picture how do I send them, like poses? What should I do?

I’m probably the least qualified person to ask about poses, since I’m pretty sure I only know three: Leaning your back against the wall with your arms crossed trying to look cool, leaning against the bar propped up on your elbow trying to look cool, and standing Heisman-style with your arm extended chest level at an approaching person and saying, “Whoa, whoa, whoa…” while trying to look cool. None of those seem likely to be of help in your case, although you’re more than welcome to give them a try.

Some people are more into the nude picture thing than others. I’ve known some guys who go completely nuts trying to get a woman to send them nude photos. I think it’s less about the photos themselves and more about the playfulness/naughtiness of her going through the motion of doing it that turns them on. I’m sure there’s a control component to it as well and some guys find it rewarding to have a woman send one when he asks her.

In fact, a lot of guys seem to have almost a compulsion about sending women pictures of their junk. Some even love to send videos of them jerking off.  I personally don’t really understand the appeal of it. Maybe it’s just a quick way to determine if she’s okay with raunchy behavior (and likely DTF) or if she’s going to flip out and call them a perverted creep, saving them from wasting anymore time before moving on to their next victim.

Guys love to show off naked pictures they receive from women. It’s like a trophy or badge of honor, an “adult” version of displaying your baseball card or Hot Wheels collection to inspire awe and jealousy among your friends.  There are always exceptions, but any naked picture is almost certainly going to be shown to his friends, if not directly forwarded to them.

My friends and I often hang out places (bars, clubs, restaurants, coffee shops, etc) where we’ve gotten to know the people that work there. It’s not unusual for us to ask a woman we know (guys, please don’t do this to strangers!) to let us check out her phone. Or they might spend time chatting with us when not taking care of other customers, leaving their phone with us when they do. Some places even have rules forbidding employees from carrying their phones on shift, making it convenient to have friends they can leave it with so they can be notified if they get a text or a call. Either way, you can see where this is going.

It’s a playful little game, “Hey, unlock your phone so we can check out your photos.” She’ll tell us no way and we joke about how she must have lots of naughty pictures on it, giving her the chance to roll her eyes in denial, smile mysteriously and shrug, or grin wickedly and nod in agreement. It’s a good way to better understand a person’s level of comfort in that area.

Some women have no reluctance at all, and eagerly hand over the phone to us and wander off, allowing us to look through everything. We might find something, grinning and smirking or just getting really quite and focused, and then she’ll come back saying, “OMG!” and snatch the phone away. Or she might just pretend not to notice us, letting us review all the pictures and sometimes even letting someone forward them to his own phone. Either way, it’s just a game we’re all playing, since they absolutely know what’s on their phone and what we’ll see, and we telegraph what we’re doing in an exaggerated way to allow them time to stop us at any point in the progression.

It all really comes down to what you’re comfortable with. Other people will see the photos you send him and they will almost certainly be forwarded to other people. If you’re okay with that, go for it. But keep in mind that there’s a chance these things will end up online at some point, so it’s a very good idea not to send any pictures that include both your nakedness AND your face. Anyone can post a neck-down photo claiming it’s you, but no one will know for sure unless it includes your face.

If you’re not comfortable with the idea, tell him it’s not something you want to do. If he doesn’t accept that and keeps hounding you about it or threatening to do something stupid like dump you or cheat on you, tell him to fuck off. It’s completely your choice if you want to share that kind of thing, not his. All he can do is decide if that’s a relationship deal breaker for him or not. If it is, that’s probably a pretty good sign that he was the wrong guy for you anyway.

I recommend that you don’t even bother getting into a discussion with him as to why you don’t feel comfortable doing it. First, it’s none of his business, you said no and that’s it. Second, he will fall all over himself promising you that he would never even think of sending it to other people or showing it to his friends. He’ll present a pretty compelling case that might make you decide to believe him. Don’t. He’s lying. He will show them and he will share it. Even if you think he genuinely means what he’s saying at the time, still don’t do it. He’ll change his mind later and you’ll probably see yourself up on some revenge porn website and that would really suck.

If this advice is coming too late and the cat’s already out of the bag, so-to-speak, you’re pretty much screwed. It still might be worth checking out this site: http://www.endrevengeporn.com/

Oh fuck. Don’t get me started on the sexy pics topic. Ok, do get me started. I love talking about this shit.

First of all, any guy I’ve ever met that has asked me to start sending him dirty pics right off the bat turned out to be a huge douche bag. Not to say I didn’t indulge. Why? I guess I’m an idiot. And maybe I just think I’m really hot. The fact of the matter is, I’ve sent enough dirty pics in my life to feed the children of Africa. I know that doesn’t make any sense but whatever. Underneath, though, I’m really not like that. I SWEAR! I’m not sure what inspired me to rationalize sending dudes that kind of shit. A strong possibility is that I enjoy being flattered. Maybe I’m just a conceited bitch. Maybe I have daddy issues. Whatever the case, pictures have been sent.

No, none of my pictures ever got passed around. Luckily the dudes I sent them to weren’t THAT bad. Still, I highly regret ever doing it. Not only do these people still have my pictures, which is just kinda gross, but it also sets a really bad tone for the relationship you have with this person. Instead of considering you a smart, funny, respectable woman, all they can focus on now is the size of your ass and whether or not you’re gonna show the nips in your next picture. Dudes are just a certain way. If you toy around with that section of their brain, the one that obsesses over sex, that’s all they’re going to think about. You will never be able to reverse what you have done. You will never be able to go back and say, hey. I really want you to respect me now. I really want you to get to know my personality. Please. Sit down, let’s have a conversation. Nope. You’re fucked. This guy now considers you another broad to add to his spank tank.

I recently met a guy I was really, really into. Mostly physically. We hung out once and hit it off completely. Again, mostly physically. But hey, being that physically attracted to someone right away doesn’t happen to me that often. Immediately he started asking for pics. Being the impulsive, emotional wreck that I am, I was more than willing. I thought he was the hottest damn thing I had ever seen and what better than to picture him looking at pics of me. Sure, that’s all fine and good, it’s fun for a little while, but I started to realize the relationship we were beginning to have had absolutely no substance. DUH. And what’s a relationship without substance? I’m not interested in being someone’s jack-off material. Needless to say, I started feeling really shitty about myself and cut things off. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t been so slutty. I wish I had shown this person my redeeming qualities, qualities that don’t live on the surface, instead of just giving it up like an idiot.

I have this friend. She’s a beautiful blonde with an amazing body and gorgeous face. I know every chick says “Omg my best friend is soooo beautiful and gorgeous!” Half the time their friend is twenty pounds overweight and has really bad roots. My friend, she’s a fucking knockout. Not only is she physically attractive, though, her personality is to-die-for and she’s talented as fuck. Well, a few years ago this friend of mine dated a real piece of shit. She happened to send this piece of shit dirty pics. WHILE THEY WERE DATING. This wasn’t some “fling”. This was a serious relationship. Then they happened to break up. One morning, while checking my Myspace, I noticed an array of “bulletins” that were spamming the fuck out of my bulletin section. They were being posted by my friend’s piece of shit ex. They were naked pictures of my friend with degrading and cruel captions. This shit was spreading over Myspace like wildfire. Everywhere I went her voluptuous tits were in my face, bouncing around the walls of Myspace like a beach ball being passed around a teen camp. All of a sudden, the entire Myspace community knew the ins and outs of my best friend’s naked body. She called me crying and upset, horrified. How could this person betray her in this way? Someone she thought she had trusted. A boyfriend who at one time she loved. Well, turns out that’s what happens when you date a meth addict.

My point is, don’t make this mistake. My friend was awesome enough to reach the conclusion of, “Well, at least I look hot.” But not everyone would feel that way. Not only that, but once a picture of your naked body reaches the internet, it’s there forever. You can never get rid of it. It can be passed around for the rest of your fucking life. It can come back to haunt you in job interviews or when you win a Miss America pageant.

Here’s the thing. I don’t think it’s always wrong to send dirty pics. If you’re in a loving, committed relationship, I think it’s a must. But don’t be stupid. Don’t date crazy people. Is your boyfriend crazy? Access the situation before you make any sudden moves. Is he a jealous, malicious, drug-addict? Is he one of those frat boy douche-bags that’s gonna show all his friends because deep down he has a small dick and feels insecure about it? Really dig deep within yourself and make sure you have these questions answered before you do something like this.

As far as poses go, I’ve got them down to a fucking science, and I am never sharing my secrets.

Comments

Sick of putting myself out there. Should I just give up at age 20?

I’ve had one long term serious relationship and it ended over a year ago. Since then I’ve been out with numerous guys not necessarily looking for a full on relationship but not counting it out either. However, none of these guys has worked out for me. It’s not a matter of finding the same category of douche, they’ve all been very different but in the end I’m left feeling the same – hurt and like I can’t trust men. I had a boss who used me as a rebound, then several guys who gave me their number and led me on only to ignore me weeks later. At this point I’m sick of putting myself out there only to be disappointed. Should I give up completely on finding someone before I’m even 20?

Listen, you give stuff your best shot and occasionally they just don’t work out. Some things simply are not meant to be.

One rainy afternoon, several years ago, I decided to run out and buy a carton of milk. As we all know, you just can’t make Fruity Pebbles part of a complete nutritious breakfast without it. Of course, not just any milk would do. I had to have skim milk, because I’m not the type of guy who passes on any chance to trade a few grams of fat for a zillion grams of needless sodium and sugar.

I would always visit the same convenience store to get my milk. I enjoyed the cool little place, even despite the owner’s poor English skills, which often left me smiling and nodding like an idiot in awkward response to questions I just couldn’t understand. It had decent hours, a good location, and most importantly, they also sold beer. Milk and beer. What more could anyone need?

I roll in one day, and Kahn, or Quan, or whatever-his-name, was behind the counter. I could immediately tell by the initial look he gave me that something was amiss. Right then and there, I knew things were different somehow, and not in a good way. The slightly worried look on his face, his nervous body language, or his failure to strike up the usual banter concerning the latest adventures of our local sports team. It was wrong, all wrong. I’ve replayed the scene in my head a thousand times since that day and it’s still as clear as if it happened only last week.

And I was right, something WAS wrong. And if Genghis Qwan had truly been the reliable and stand up neighborhood grocer that I had somehow fooled myself into believing him to be, he would have had to guts to play it straight and just come clean right away. Instead, he nervously shifted his gaze down to the ground, as if suddenly noticing the worn floor was in urgent need of new paint, and let me wander down the aisle to find out the hard way.

They no longer sold milk.

I’m not gonna lie, I took it pretty hard. The complete suddenness of it all made it even more worse. There was no warning, no lead up, no indication at all that the milk and dairy section would abruptly be replaced with a small deli counter. Looking back on it now, I realize that I totally missed all the little warning signs. No seriously, he put up little warning signs that said he was going to stop selling milk. But I was oblivious. And even though my friends also tried to warn me, I was wrapped in the warm comfortable embrace of convenient self-delusion, always quick to remind myself that I shouldn’t read too much into things.

After the initial shock finally passed, it seemed like everything would eventually be okay. I get it, these things just take time, I thought. But somehow, someway, something had changed inside of me. Things weren’t going to be okay at all. Very shortly, I began experimenting, trying to score my milk from a variety of different places.

I’d find myself wandering through dingy and dusty discount warehouse stores alongside other desperate souls, many clinging to mammoth-sized boxes of cheese puffs or giant jars of kosher pickles that everyone knew wouldn’t even fit in their car. The whole scene was so depressing and sad that I completely hated myself for being part of it, but at the time I simply didn’t know what else to do.

From there, I turned to overly-bright franchise supermarkets that made my eyes ache and subjected me to the judgmental stares of customers and employees alike. All those people, living their perfect little normal lives, could somehow sense that I was different. That I didn’t belong.

Out of desperation, I even resorted to other local convenience stores, complete with their peculiar smells and strange alien-like proprietors, which only made me feel more disconnected and out-of-sorts. I felt completely out of sync with the rest of the world, like watching one of those old VHS tape movies where the video doesn’t quite match up with the sound.

It didn’t matter anyways because none of it was any use. I’d return home only to find that the milk had already turned sour. Or discover that a quart of milk somehow cost more than a gallon of high-octane gas at one of those ritzy upscale full-serve stations. Worst of all was when I’d bring back over-sized jugs of milk so huge that it was a full -time job just to drink it all before it went bad. My work performance began to suffer, I was always late or calling in sick.

The toll on my personal relationships was even worse. The stress and strain began costing me the few friends I still had left. I found myself in a horrible downward spiral, knowing that something needed to quickly change before it was too late.

I fell in with a group of Paleoithics, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I was around people who seemed to finally get me. They had an intensity and edge that reached cult proportions, each of them trying to escape pasteurized demons summoned by their own traumatic milk experiences.

Their coping mechanism involved focusing on a diet devoid of any and all forms of dairy. It seemed insane to me, even in my desperate state. At least, at first. That’s not me, I told myself, I’m not THAT guy. Yet little by little, I started buying into it. Eventually, I came around.

The bread came next. I know it sounds crazy, but hanging in these circles eventually breaks you down, and taking one more step down Insanity Road seems almost logical. But giving up beer was the hardest. I guess sometimes you just reach a point where you’ve come so far that continuing forward is much easier than trying to find your back to where you first started.

I wish I could tell you there was some sudden and magical epiphany, and that my story had a happy ending. You can picture it: The perfect glass of milk appearing at exactly the right time. A stolen moment full of frothy milk mustaches and giddy infectious laughter, that somehow makes everything suddenly all better, resulting in a life of happiness and fulfillment. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t dream about those moments. About some angelic intervention bringing me back to earlier times when all was good and okay. Yet, unlike books and movies, these situations rarely have a happy ending.

Today, I’m that guy at the end of the bar with the sad little smile, cradling a pint glass of cheap red wine while picking indifferently at a dry, crouton-less salad. Beer and milk exist only in faded memories from the past for me, like a once important letter now crumpled and torn, aimlessly blowing in the wind, it’s message long forgotten.

I like to think I’m not bitter, (unlike the cheap swill that passes for Cabernet in these parts) but sometimes I wonder how things might have been if I had just done down another path. If I somehow hadn’t stepped foot into that store on that one sad day so long ago, maybe everything would have ended up some other way. On the darkest of nights, I find myself wishing I could go back and do it all again,making different choices this time. But if wishes were horses, I guess I’d be eating steak for every meal.

Sure, you can just give up on relationships forever, even though you’re only 19 years old.  You’ll save tremendous time when it comes to personal hygiene and general appearance, not to mention the financial benefit you’ll reap from your new gender agnostic fashion style, one that allows you to purchase whatever happens to be on clearance sale, all year round.

Awkward social situations will become a thing of the past, and Facebook will be much more enjoyable without the stress of all the required stalking and snooping. You can even uninstall that app that notifies you every time someone in the world updates their relationship status. It’s probably just some hack virus, anyway.

Or you could realize this whole dating thing is hard. And that while some people can be perfectly happy with pretty much anyone who likes them back, those of us who are little more discerning have to work a bit harder.

A dumb person spending their life wrapped up in their own tiny little world, oblivious to the rest of the universe, will blissfully enjoy their ignorance. While a smart, articulate, self-aware girl like yourself, will approach the world more thoughtfully, fearlessly asking herself tough questions that prevent her from just settling with something inferior.

Where a less enlightened person might find their “soulmate” in one out of every three guys she dates, the ratio for a rational and sensible person is probably closer one in a hundred. Or one in a thousand.  Maybe even one in ten-thousand. I don’t know for sure, but I promise to let you know when I get there.

And while there’s no shame in having standards that are higher than most, there’s something to be said for giving yourself permission to just enjoy the moment. Over-analyzing things leads to discovering flaws that don’t actually exist. It’s okay to relax and have some fun, even when things aren’t perfect. Refusing to take your chances when they come will only breed regret, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth.

Much like this Cabernet here. Got Milk?

For the love of God. You’re only nineteen fucking years old. I mean seriously.. you’re not allowed to get bitter yet. Nothing works out when you’re nineteen. I promise. Unless you’re one of those weirdos who is still with the same guy they met in high school. That shit is creepy. I like to experience more than one cock in my life, thank you very much. On the real, though, you are actually not allowed to feel this way yet. It’s just not cool and you need to stop immediately.

When I was nineteen I was a complete fucking idiot. I start dating a drug addict and we built a relationship based on the most important, solid and morally right foundation: Booze. I then impulsively moved in with him and went through a couple years of hell. After this relationship went down the shitter, I quickly jumped into a new one, which ended pretty much the same. My point is, no one makes the right decisions when they’re nineteen. Or twenty. Definitely not twenty-one. In fact, it’s been years and I’m still not making the right decisions.

I recently got out of a very long and baggage-saturated relationship. Within the past year I have become truly single and have entered the world of dating. Now, let me be clear with you. I have never been someone who has “dated”. In fact, I’ve had two seriously relationships that lasted a substantial amount of time, and neither before nor in between these relationships did I really “date”. If “date” means get inebriated and fuck some guy then cry about it in the morning, then sure, I dated. But I’ve never been one to go on typical dates. Dinner and a movie type shit. Not until recently.

I’ve never understood the world of dating until these past months of utter confusion. For awhile there I wasn’t meeting anyone. Not a soul. I think I just wasn’t interested after coming out of a long relationship, so I wasn’t really looking. Well, that started to change. Dudes started appearing like flies to shit. I had no idea what to expect or how to date. The first guy I met I considered to be the hottest guy I’d probably ever seen. He called me “homie” but I overlooked it. He made it very clear to me that he wasn’t looking for anything serious, and at that point I didn’t really care. I was bored and horny and honestly just awe-struck by his hot face. Anyway, we had a really good week of hanging out. I went to his house every night and he seemed super into me and couldn’t wait to see me again. I’m not a dummy by any means, but sometimes it’s easy to put your blinders on to all the red flags when a guy is strikingly attractive. I knew he didn’t want anything serious, but with all the flattery going on and really good sex all that bullshit went out the window. I didn’t really care what he wanted, I just kinda wanted to hang out.

Well, one day this guy just got really distant. His texts were annoyingly abrupt and I could just feel that he was over it. Having not really been in that position before, needless to say I was baffled and racked my brain for various conclusions as to why he was doing this. He probably liked me too much, and, being the commitment-phobe he is, it terrified him to think of being in a relationship with someone so wonderful, so he immediately backed away. Yes. That had to be the answer.

Looking back, the guy just wanted to fuck and whether or not he liked me, shit didn’t work out and it was a bummer for like five minutes. I got over it quick and moved the fuck on because that’s what you do. Well, the good times surely didn’t stop there. Not too long after a guy found me on Facebook. He seemed to be quite taken by me, which is of course always nice to hear. We seemed to have some shit in common, so I was willing to see what he was all about. He lived a couple states away, but was to be moving back in a couple months. I definitely thought he was attractive, although maybe too attractive. He was a model and his face was so perfect that it made me immediately feel like an ugly fatty every time I looked at a picture of him.

We texted back and forth for awhile. I didn’t feel there was an instant connection on that front by any means, but hey. Texting can only go so far. Well, when he moved back I decided to go hang out with him one night. He had been asking to hang and I had been seeing my ex so I had been ignoring him completely. But on this night I was bored and feeling antsy and decided I needed to come to some kind of conclusion about this dude. Five seconds into our hangout I knew. NO SPARK. He wasn’t into me and I wasn’t into him. It was painfully obvious and horrible. I’m also the kind of person where if I sense something is going poorly, I immediately become silent. I will bring nothing to the table and I will completely just stop giving a fuck about trying to be impressive at all. Shit was awkward as fuck, I did a lot of petting his dog because pets make great crutches for awkward situations. This date basically sucked. I left and knew that it wasn’t just first-time jitters. We were not gonna hang out again.

Shortly after, I met another guy who was a few years younger than me. He was cute and I was feeling desperate. We went to a show together and I totally blacked out. We had fun together I guess. We hung out one other time and went to a college party. It made me feel like a child molester. I thought this guy was cool and stuff, but I was starting to feel like a weirdo. We were just in two completely different points in our lives. I cut it off cold turkey and have been feeling kind of losery about it ever since.

One day, recently, I was working and I saw this creature of God walk in the door. By that I mean, HOLY SHIT. Hottest guy ever. He kept looking at me, in that way, and I knew I was not letting this beautiful specimen leave without my number. I ended up shooting the shit with him for awhile, and eventually made the move. He was all for it. We immediately began an instant texting love affair. He told me he thought I was soooooo beautiful and we sent lots of pictures back and forth. I went and hung out with him for the first time and it was amazing. We really seemed to have hit it off. After I left that date he couldn’t stop telling me how good it felt to be around me, and how he wanted to see me again. He started getting pretty real and talking about the future and shit like that. To me, it seemed as if this guy was really interested in taking this further. We texted nonstop.

Things started getting a little frustrating though. This guy could NEVER hang out. Granted he had like seven jobs, but it seemed like even his free nights he was unavailable. I was super confused. According to everything he was telling me, he desperately wanted to see me again and get to know me. But weeks went by and there never seemed to be any time to hang out. He had three hour windows from time-to-time where he could pencil me in, which kind of rubbed me the wrong way. He also brought up his ex a lot, who he had recently gotten out of a long relationship with, and I was beginning to feel there was possibly some unfinished business. To make a long story short, we hung out one night and it just wasn’t the same. He said he didn’t want anything serious and wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. I can’t lie, it bothered me. Why had he said all these things to me if he wasn’t looking for anything serious? I think he was drunk. Still, he continued to text me wanting to hang out. Contrary to any vibes I had been getting previously, it was clear at this point that he was just looking for a fuck-buddy. I’m not into that kind of shit anymore so I broke things off. Of course, even after I broke things off he texted me the following morning asking if I wanted to hang out that night.

Moral of the story is, dating is really hard. Really really hard. You are going to have to date a lot of douche-bags before you find a guy who is worth hanging out with. In my opinion, it’s important to have bad dates. It really molds your standards. You begin to truly understand what you want and what you will not settle for. There are a lot of guys out there who are just looking to fuck. I guess early on I just got lucky when I so easily found dudes who wanted to date right off the bat. I can honestly say that until recently, I truly didn’t realize how many guys out there are so uninterested in a woman’s personality or wit or interests, they just want a resting place for their dick.

My best advice is not to get discouraged. These men are pussies and they’re unhappy. With all the losers you’re going to meet, I’m a firm believer that there are still good dudes out there. DON’T SETTLE. Remember what it is you want. Don’t fall for looks and charm. It doesn’t last. Don’t give up, either. Start living your life for yourself. You’re still really young. Don’t worry so much about dudes. You have a lot of time to make bad decisions, so try to make as little as possible. Eventually you’re going to meet someone who is worthwhile and gives a fuck. In the meantime, bad dates make for really good stories, and there’s nothing more fun to do than sit around and shit-talk about losers.

 

 

Comments

How do I approach someone without seeming like a creepy weirdo?

I’m a single guy in search for the perfect girl for me, so I’m trying to get out and date. I’ve tried date websites, but the people never seem to be or look like their photos, so I’m hoping to meet her the old fashion way – by bumping into her somewhere. When I am with friends or those who know me, I’m very confident and outgoing, as I am also when talking to great people I’ve just met (where we have something in common to talk about such as work or friends). The problem is that when I see an attractive woman, say passing me by, sitting by herself, or something similar – I don’t know what to say. So I stare or smile, she stares back, smiles, or goes on with me unnoticed, and it ends there. I do often say hello, but this only gets a hi back and has never led to much other than a brief conversation (to which I don’t know how to take to the next level). So how to approach someone without seeming like a creep, weirdo, desperate and get them to go out with you?

The search for the perfect girl is a noble pursuit. This is especially true, given the fact that most guys are busy searching for ANY girl. With a little advice, I think you’re going to do fine. But since I get paid by the word (not really), let me digress…

I’ve become a firm believer that the single most useful skill in the world is awareness. You could be the best at pretty much every other skill there is, but without awareness, you’d never effectively apply those skills. On the other hand, you could pretty much suck at everything else, but if you were 100% aware of everything going on around you, you would come out on top.

This is true of pretty much everything: Hitting on women, serving tables, being safe on the streets, playing the stock market, excelling in sports, cooking, painting, having sex, writing, acting, selling, buying, boxing, bullshitting, bullspitting, beer spilling, begging, borrowing, bribing, blowing, boasting, and alliteration. A keen awareness to what you are doing is what separates the average from the great.

The key to success when meeting women, be it on the street, in a coffee shop, at a bar, or anyplace else, is awareness. Without being aware of what a girl is currently doing, you’re going to fail at talking with her more often than not. Even a big spending regular at a cheap dive of a strip club is going to get shut down if he tries talking to a dancer who is rushing to the ladies room after holding it on stage for 20 minutes. Besides, that’s where they keep their heroin.

You can chat up anyone, if you catch them at the right time. That cute bartender will be chatty on a slow night, but won’t give you more than a hello if she’s got a million customers demanding drinks. Talking to her at that point will only lead to failure. As will flirting with that hot female cop while she’s clearly in the middle of something, or trying to strike up a conversation with a passing hottie when she’s rushing to catch a bus. While these are extreme examples, if you pay attention enough, you can read people’s body language to decide the best time to talk to them and set yourself up for success.

Talking to random people on the street is something to be careful about. As this Jezebel article clearly points out, you need to be very aware of how your approach comes off to a woman. It also points out that female porn stars will punch you in the balls if you harass them.

The easiest way to not come off as a creepy, desperate weirdo is to not actually be a creepy, desperate weirdo. Most girls will tell you that they can tell a creepy guy a mile away. It’s not what these weirdos do that gives them away, it’s how they act while doing it. Subconsciously, women totally pick up on a guy’s intent when he talks to them, and it’s very hard to fool them. That desperate creeper with the nervous tick and sweaty palms might say the same thing to a girl that any of us would, but he’s going to get a different result because he’s thinking all kinds of creepy thoughts and women completely pick up on that vibe.

Approaching and talking to women in public is easy, provided you’re aware enough to tell if they’re busy. The simple key, and what I suspect has been holding you back, is your intent. If you see a woman and think “She is perfect, I want to date her,” as you approach her, she’s going to know that’s your goal. Most women aren’t interested in a guy who has already made up his mind that he wants to date her before he’s even met her, which makes perfect sense. Do that and you’re already starting off behind the 8-ball.

Stop trying to strike up conversations with girls because you want to date them, and start talking to girls because you want to talk to them. Go into the exchange with zero expectations beyond just chatting casually a bit. Ask a question, make an observation, crack a joke, it doesn’t matter what you say, really. As long as you’re smiling or grinning in a way that makes it look like you’re having fun, you’ll almost always have positive results.

The more you practice just clowning and joking around with random girls you bump into, the easier it becomes. In fact, eventually it becomes a fun little game where the less interested you appear, the more receptive she’s likely to be. A lot of times, I’ll go up to a girl and start chatting her up for no reason, then appear suddenly distracted when she’s mid-sentence and wander off. It may sound rude, and I’ll be the first one to admit that I can sometimes be a clownish jerk just because I’m bored and it’s fun, but it’s actually really good practice.

Once you’ve convinced yourself that you can confidentially walk away from any girl you meet, no matter how attractive or awesome she seems, you empower yourself in a way that girls immediately pick up. Their first thought won’t be, “Oh gawd, is this asshole going to bother me until I tell him to take a hike?” it’ll be, “Hrm, this guy doesn’t seem to be into me at all, do I have spinach in my teeth or something?”

Depending on how hot a girl thinks she is, and how conducive the situation (awareness!), you can have some real fun with it. Recently, I was buying some dress shirts at a local pretentious department store and this wicked hot salesgirl was helping me. She was being all flirty and funny, which was obviously because she works on commission and wanted to sell me as much stuff as she could. (And also because I am awesome and she was totally into me, of course. Duh!)

I played her little game, flirting right back with her and having a grand old time. I even bought more stuff than I intended to, just because it was fun and I didn’t want to feel guilty later for what I was about to do.

As she rang up my purchases, I steered the conversations to different bars and clubs, talking about where she hangs out and where I hang out. I mentioned a couple of cool upcoming events, and she played along saying how cool those would be. Eventually, I had laid out so many possible options for cool things that I could invite her to hang out and do, that she was 100% certain I was about to ask her for her number, and just as I was signing my receipt.

And then I flashed a big smile, said, “See ya!” turned, and walked out. The split second glimpse I got of the pouty and confused look on her face as I left was priceless. I hope they serve red wine by the pint glass in hell.

Go out and chat with girls. Chat about anything. Make it casual. Be willing to walk away at any moment. Have no expectations. No really, stop thinking that and really have no expectations. Become that fun engaging guy with strangers that you are with everyone else and soon enough it will become second nature to you, and you’ll find you’re chatting with everyone, everywhere, all the time with absolutely no effort at all.

And if that doesn’t work, you can always try FarmersOnly.com. Because city folks just don’t get it.

Good question. The fact that you’re even asking this assures me you are probably a remotely normal dude. First things first, don’t let your nerves lead to a missed opportunity. Don’t walk away wishing you hadn’t been a big fucking pussy.

In our city we have a weekly “edgy” newspaper. In it is a section called “I Saw U”. It’s basically an entire page of the newspaper dedicated to desperate people and their missed opportunities. They have the chance to write a brief paragraph about someone they wish they had talked to in hopes that this person will not only religiously read this page in the newspaper, but will not consider this mother fucker totally creepy and will actually feel inclined to respond.

I read it almost every week, mostly in hopes that I’ll end up in there one day. It has yet to happen. Probably because I don’t hang out at bus stops. My point is, don’t end up like one of those freaks writing in to the newspaper because they saw the girl of their dreams at some crusty Halloween party and can’t stop kicking themselves for being a little bitch. There are times when a missed opportunity is simply a missed opportunity. It’s the universe telling you to get some balls.

I have had encounters with many men. If there’s one thing I can tell you it’s that the majority of men out there have no tact. They just come up to you and say something stupid. It’s not like the movies where some average-looking, middle-aged dude with a beer gut comes up to some strikingly hot chick and wins her over with some one-liner he pulled out of his ass. Most dudes are either too scared to say anything, or they’re just drunk enough to come ask you out in the sleaziest way possible. Or, if you’re lucky, they’re suffering from a mental disorder which becomes apparent seconds into the encounter when you can’t get them to shut the fuck up.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. Women can see right through dudes. We know who you are. We know when you’re creepy and we know when you mean well. Okay, not ALL women. Some are stupid idiots that have the intuition of a fucking bird that sits in the middle of the street until the moment you’re about to run it over it then flies away. Most women, though, get instant gut feelings. We can tell if you’re a kiddy porn watcher. We can tell if you’re clingy. We can tell if you’re a junkie loser with no life. Most women just overlook these initial red flags because they’re lonely and craving the attention their dad never gave them. ZING!

A couple months ago I was working at an out-door bar and got to talking with some dude. He was pretty cool and in one of the bands that was playing that day. We were just shootin’ the shit and whatnot. I wasn’t interested in him like that, but I liked the guy. We talked for a bit, I gave him his PBR and he wandered off into the abyss. About a half hour later he came back for another beer and without hesitation just said “You should let me take you out sometime”. I smiled and politely declined, but he was super cool about it. He didn’t persist or get all annoying like A LOT of men do. He just said, “Oh, it’s all good!” After that I liked him just a little bit more. Not enough to go out with him, but enough to think he was awesome for being straight-forward, non-creepy, and chill. On the other side of the fence, I was once asked out by a different dude at work, who continued to ask me out every single time he came in, begging for a date like a fucking loser, whining like a little bitch. It was sickening and pathetic.

The point I’m trying to get to is, don’t over-think this. Women are going to think what they think and there’s nothing you can do about it, although you can undoubtedly do things to make it worse. You may approach a nice looking chick one of these days and she’ll be appalled by you for no apparent reason and be a total cunt. Why? Some women are just mean. You will walk away feeling like an ugly loser with no friends. Don’t! Not every woman is going to be attracted to you. That’s life. But you HAVE to try. If you don’t try, you suck. You will be alone forever and when you’re eighty-years-old sitting on your rocking chair drinking Knob Creek, but more realistically sitting on the couch in some group home watching Cheers, you’ll know it’s because you were too afraid of a little rejection to ever grow old with someone who will probably get Alzheimers and forget who you are.

Comments