Fuck the game.
Neil Strauss got it all wrong with that book ‘The Game.’ Instead of trying to analyse all women as one collective entity, he should have split them in to stereotypical cliques and addressed it in an even more chauvinistic, single-minded way like I have.
To begin, an essential piece of seduction is dying half your hair black, and half white; emo girls dig that skunk look for some reason. Unfortunately they dig it so much that they usually inflict it upon their own heads, which leaves the collars & cuffs debate wide open (lad point +1.) By this point though, any late teen/early twenty something still dressing this way is a stagnant remnant of their former myspace-queen-self, which makes them a really easy pity fuck, with the right mixture of charm, wit and self inflicted darkness of course. Start your routine off with a joke, maybe an ironic “picture comment for picture comment?!” but if she’s a bit slow on the uptake try a complement – perhaps, “wow, your mascara looks hot when it covers the top half of your cheek like that.” By now she should be swooning like Sally, and that’s when you really unleash the offensive with a bit of darkness. Some shit about how your parents won’t let you go to the Poison The Well concert even though you’re ‘seventeen and have your lip pierced twice and everything,’ usually works. See what you’ve just done? Made her laugh (?) shown that you like her, and started a genuine conversation about how neither of you are really emo, and that it’s just a word the Daily Mail made up to sell some stories. Sooner than you know you’ll be pounding some pierced pussy and crying your eyes out to some vintage Hawthorne Heights while you spoon awkwardly and shout at your mum for standing near your door.
Pretend you have loads of money. Easy as that. That’s if you want to go anywhere near these girls, which you don’t because more often than not they’re vacuous, self-obsessed attention whores. And regular whores as well.
An element of Gatsby-esque behaviour is essential here, it’s all about the illusion; making them think that you’re something you’re not – kind of like magic, but you’re aiming to get your fingers in a pussy rather than a fake rabbit. Start off with a trip to Jack Wills, Abercrombie and somewhere that sells those riding medals so you can pin them on the lapel of your new blazer. Next you need to get in to the psyche of the girl you’re going for; hang out at Polo matches and whine at daddy about how India always has the newest phone and it’s not fair that he’s not buying you one. Daddy will not have a fucking clue what you’re on about. To be honest though, it’s usually the posh girls who are the easiest lay, what with all that repressed sexuality and horse induced stimulation.
Hipster girls are basically WAG girls, except they hang out at The Macbeth rather than Liquid, oh and instead of making their complexion all tangeriney they go for the post-goth, white-as-sin skin look. With these girls it’s more about appearing poor rather than rich, in a kind of ‘comes from the home counties but lives in a squat in Hackney’ way. Appearance wise a ratty little moustache is a must; maybe it’s the bristles against their clit or the fact that it makes their faces scream IRONIC (which is a huge turn-on btw) but whatever it is these girls will cream at the sight of a bit of face fuzz. Oh and finally, say as little as possible, for some reason they’re totes in to that. Probably because deep down they know all they have to say is incredibly boring, and the less you say, the less they have to respond. Ouch.
On a serious note, if you’re in to a girl NEVER venture in to the friend-zone territory – it’s near impossible to escape from, and likelihood is that even if she does eventually kiss you it’ll be more out of sympathy than because of a deep seated lust she has for you. The best way around this one is to just get fucked out of your mind drunk together, have a little fumble, and wake up the next day with the knowledge that it’ll never happen again and be forever stuck in the wank-bank.
Once they’ve got past the initial tom-boy phase (and haven’t become a lesbian) these girls are usually pretty sexually liberated. I guess having a similar mentality to guys helps, kind of like gay clubs – you know everyone in there is up for a fuck because everyone in there is a guy, and almost always really drunk. Hooking up with tom-boy girls works almost the same as hooking up with friend-zone girls; it’s always going to be a drunken hand-job and a head full of regret the next day, but at least it’s a hand-job and not a massive rejection.
A pack of Mayfair and some weed will usually do the trick, but I suppose there are some chavvy girls out there who don’t submit to common expectations. I say ‘I suppose,’ because I’ve never met one, but if you do just be a colossal dick to them, that always seems to work out on Jeremy Kyle.
illustration Cei Willis