A lot of people have been asking about this, so prepare yourselves. I'm going to give you the comprehensive guide on how to pull me.
STEP 1: Appearance.
Foolish people may consider this the biggest hurdle in their quest to get me doing the freak nasty with them. After all, I used to be a personal trainer. I must be some sort of crazed body facist, yeah?
But no! In fact I appreciate that not every human being can be priveleged enough to enjoy my awesome metabolic rate and supreme genetic inheritance
We are a varied and motley species. We should celebrate that. Having said that, it's probably best if you're not the type who treats Doughnuts as a regular breakfast food.
What'll really impress me is the way you dress.
THIS IS GOOD.
And this:
Oh yeah, and her.
But really, as long as you're clean and smell nice you don't have to worry too much. What's more important is that you have the right attitude.
STEP 2: Attitude
This is easily the most important, and probably the hardest thing to get right, because I'm a fickle little fucker, and it's difficult to judge what kind of mood I'm in.
Most likely, all of this is going to go down in a club, so let's deal with that first.
I'd like to say that the best approach is to just be SUPER FUN! when we first meet, and then later on give me a clue about how smart you are.
But if you just came straight out and gave me your opinion on the difficulties President Perez Musharraff has to face balancing the external pressures of the American War on Terror against the internal dissent of hardline fundementalists and Pashtun separatists you've got a good chance of knocking me on my arse so bad I'll give you head right there on the dancefloor.
The absolute worst thing you can do though is try and do that whole glacial cool "hard to get" thing - Newsflash! - we're in a club full of girls. I'm not going to work at talking to you when I can go and chat to the fun girls who've been dancing to Alice Cooper.
Also: Dancing - If you want to stand any kind of a chance with me, you need to read the following statement:
There is no such thing as bad dancing; only self-concious dancing.
If you do not agree, totally and full heartedly, with that then you will have no chance. Also, you need to examine the state of your soul.
Apart from that, I'm fairly easy to get on with. I'm not one of these pricks that can't deal with a girl whose funnier than him or any of that bullshit.
Having said that, there are a few vital viewpoints we need to share, which follow thus:
1: Nu Metal is toss. No Exceptions, No Buts. It is a musical genre that is responsible for a generation of fat cunts hiding their inadequacies behind oversized hoodies and jeans you could camp inside. It was geting tired when I was into it, back when Limp Bizkit were new. We were young and stupid and that cover of a George Michael song was really funny to us.
What's going on now though? I see all these young kids wearing the same stuff that made us retarded back then. Why the fuck are they doing that when they could be listening to new stuff and being good looking in some jeans and chucks with an understated polo shirt instead of a ton of baggy black shit and multiple chains?
2: People moaning about Emo are miserable wank bags. Ahhhh, do you not like the kids having their own musical movement that doesn't conform with your own tastes? Tough shit grandad, that's what the kids do. What do you want them listening to, Oasis?
I'm too old to really do the whole Emo thing, and I can't grow a fringe, but fuck me it's good to dance to. Stop the moaning, it ages you prematurely.
3:
He is gorgeous. Yeah I'm straight, I don't understand it either, but goddamn. He makes me feel funny.
Incidentally, if you've started talking about something cool like the rise of the Ottoman Empire and I've got this kind of glazed look in my eyes and I'm just sort of nodding and mumbling "uh huh" and "yeah?" then you've just made this song play in my head and I'm going to be effectively helpless for the rest of the night.
Congratulations. I'm probably going to get your name tattooed on my shin or something.
Conclusions:
That pretty much covers it. The only real problems you might run into is that I'm really slow on the uptake. If it's getting to the end of the night and you still haven't had any luck, ask for a lift home. My mother brought me up properly, with plenty of exercise and good food and vicious beatings, all you need is to give me some story about getting stranded somewhere and I'll feel duty bound to take you home.
If that doesn't work, get into some sort of tattoo comparing competition with me. I should get the message then.
Good Luck!
And i seem to have tired of beating heart baby, it used to thrill me so, maybe we should head to relate.
But once I've done that, I'm going to hit Sexing the Cherry.
My woman pulled me by reading books about impossibly complex scientific subjects that my pathetic brain could not even begin to comprehend. And you're right about emo.