A new year at University is a lot like a new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It’s a time for getting an education, battling the forces of evil, and trying to pick up women. I started this year of University, my third, with a fresh outlook; I was going to pick up women through blunt force, as an act of sheer will. With new classes there would be an innumerable number of new women, never before harassed by my undeniably brilliant person.
The Trifecta of Woman
I entered this year with a check list, three simple requirements that would refine my targeting system and streamline the process.
- Hot (any young woman who I could stomach to look at)
- Single (or willing to cheat)
- Puts out (she’d goddamn better)
I was focused, determined, and certain my new mechanized strategy would entirely eliminate my reliance on sappy emotions. This year, this one for sure, I would get laid, and I didn’t much care by whom. “In this world are many like me who’ve killed their emotions. Don’t forget that.” – Shadow, Final Fantasy VI.
I managed to keep all of that in mind, of course, until about half way through the first day, that’s when I ran into “her.” There are many young women I almost ask out, and I always regret it, but I had spent all summer kicking my own ass over this one. All of that careful planning left me, here stood my primary target, my only target.
She didn’t fit all of the requirements of my checklist. She was hot, that’s for sure. I probably shouldn’t talk about whether she put out or not (women seem to always hate when you do that). It’s the other one that was the real problem, the one about being single. I know, I know, I had been down this road many times before. Robbie Williams says “all the best women are married,” well they’re certainly taken, anyway. It wasn’t just that she was hot either, but brilliant, competent, she didn’t give me a headache, and all of a sudden these things mattered. I had forgotten, in all of my efforts to fuck anyone I could, that what I was really after was a Hermione. Somewhere in the back of my mind intelligence had become the thing I looked for above all else in a woman, yet I wasn’t conscious of that fact until the moment I ran into “her.”
The “Her” Phenomenon
I call this The “Her” Phenomenon, because that’s how they talk in overwrought teen movies when the protagonist falls immediately in love with most unattainable girl at his high school. It’s when you find the kind of girl you can’t get over, the kind you struggle and bash your head against your computer desk for, but can’t get past. There are only two things you can do when you find yourself in this predicament, try to get over her by going after everything that can walk, and fail, or you can hurl yourself at her, in the most all-out, balls-to-the-wall, maniacal fashion imaginable, and fail. I chose that latter.
For those of you who find yourselves in the same situation I was in, I here present the best advice that I can, though it is a way of pain. It is a long and perilous journey that ends inevitably in disaster. You might get beat up by her boyfriend, she might stop talking to you, she might steal your books, but most likely you will be crushed and left distraught.
Let her know you don’t care if she has a boyfriend, ’cause “fuck that guy.” There’s no need to hide your intentions, tell her “I’m morbidly attracted to you,” you’re going all-out, remember. Be incredibly lucky and have her and her boyfriend break up for reasons completely unknown to you. Shave once a week. Be lucky again and run into her out of sheer coincidence over and over again. Ask her out weekly for two months; let her know you’re going to “harass her into submission.” Finally get a date, try to kiss her, get rejected. Ask her out weekly for another two months, have her ask for a kiss, kiss her. Date her for a month, have her break up with you.
It was some two or three months ago that I went through all of this. I found myself asking “where does a person go from here?” My first girlfriend in four years, and it had ended after a month. I guessed at why it didn’t work, why it never works. I stabbed bitterly at the dark and exclaimed “if only I were a foot taller, if I were rich, if I had my own place, if I had my own car, if I played sports, if I could swim, if I could ride a bike, if only I hit women and cheated on them, then I’d succeed!” I followed this up by thinking “maybe if I weren’t so bitter and miserable, stopped being a ranting lunatic, then I’d succeed.” Well, maybe.
I don’t think this experience was a poor one. After all, I did have a girlfriend, not for very long, but I did. It is with annoyance that I am forced to admit that all relationships can, at least, be learned from. Here’s what I learned this time around:
- Driving might be a legitimately useful skill for more than impressing shallow women.
- I don’t have to talk to girls online to pick them up.
- Holding off on showing women my website is a good thing.
- Not introducing women to my friends is key.
- I probably shouldn’t get drunk in front of the women I’m pursuing.
- Those who hesitate, masturbate.
I had hoped to be Ron to her Hermione, a bit of a screw-up, but somehow attractive in her eyes. Really though, I’m not a Ron, I have no interest in Quiditch, and I’m not interested in women interested in men who are interested in Quiditch. Maybe I’m more of a Neville Longbottom, and perhaps I should be looking for more of a Luna Lovegood. This is, ultimately, what I’ve learned. I might find intelligence a very attractive quality, and even though I like to think I’m decently intelligent, you need to have more in common than that. I need to go after the crazier women, because those are the ones I have the most in common with.