Dammit, Cole: The Dude, No–Just No Edition

Dammit, Cole,

hey man

so you got this shit with the girls right

like you get them and stuff

so how do you pick up girls

i need to know how to get women

josh

The photographer description of this on the stock photo site said "Turtles making love is a very slow process, i stood about 30 minutes watching but nothing much happened." I. I just can't even.

 

The easiest way to get women is to listen to them, have real human conversations with them, remember that they and their thoughts both have value, try a little empathy, and stop treating them like interchangeable collections of fuckable body parts.

Oh. Oh, you mean get women. Not understand them, like, you know, a rational human being who wants to be able to communicate with and form relationships with his equals based on something other than sexual availability. You want to get them. Bag them. Bang them. You're looking to score.

No, dude. Just no.

And if that's your approach to relating to anyone female-identified, I need you to get out of my gene pool right the eff now.

Josh. Man. Most of the time I try to be a bit gentler with these responses, but I feel like we need to sit down and have a good heart-to-heart that makes integral use of a good slap-to-head. You need to get your shite straight, my friend. Stop looking for the pick-up artist approach. Stop talking about women like objects to be acquired. Because whether you're looking for a night of fun with a willing one-time partner or hoping to end up in a long-term relationship, you need to remember that the other person has a stake in this–has intelligence, has feelings, has choices of her own, and even if she's out cruising for someone to keep her bed warm for the night, she's sure as hell not looking for someone looking to "get" her.

I won't lie: I've had my share of one-night stands. Especially after my divorce, which left me not really wanting to commit to anything for a while and really just completely lost on how to flirt, how to interact with people on a level outside the platonic. I went out. I met people. Some of those people came home with me. Some of them didn't. Some of them turned into friends. Some of them didn't. But not one night did I go out with a strategy for getting laid. For conning my way into someone's pants through some formula that's supposed to be foolproof and completely disregards their agency, individuality, and availability. I went out wanting a drink and some good company, regardless of the form that company took. And in the end, the biggest thing that happened on those nights was that I talked to people. I got into interesting conversations. I found out about who they were, and let them know a little bit of me. I made connections that had value beyond whether or not they wanted to sleep with me or I wanted to sleep with them.

I wasn't constantly watching for that signal that meant it was time to get out of there and find somewhere to make the beast with two backs. In fact, several times I missed signals because I was just enjoying someone's company, and they had to nearly hit me over the head with the implication that hey, they'd like to go somewhere a bit more private. Sometimes we did. Sometimes we didn't, because I wasn't feeling it on a physical front but was still enjoying their company and wanted to keep hanging out, if they were into it. Yes, I said no to sex. Lots of people do it, because it's just not the be-all and end-all we think it is, and there's nothing to prove by forcing a physical connection if one isn't there; there is, however, a hell of a lot to lose if you discard someone awesome because of your perception of their fuckability.

Here's the thing: there is no currency that can buy someone's body, or their affection. But the currency of communication is more valuable than any other, and if you're frustrated that you're going out to meet people and they're not dispensing sex when you pay with whatever you think has value out of your measly person, the problem isn't the people who are, in your eyes, failing to give you sex.

The problem is you.

So here's my advice to you:

Forget about "this shit with the girls." Forget about "getting" women. Go get a hobby. Get a life. Take up lacrosse. Take up woodworking. Take up fucking macrame, I don't care, just do something other than thinking about your dick. Find things you love to do. Find things that fulfill you, that make you happy, that make you someone worth talking to. Read a good book. Take a class on something. Become interesting to yourself. Make friends. Make friends with women; make friends with men. Don't treat any one any different from the other. I don't want to hear a goddamned word about being friendzoned, because those women are not potentials on your fuck-shelf. They are your friends. That has value. More value than you can ever imagine.

Learn that, and you won't have a problem connecting with people. And if sex happens from that by mutual consent, great.

And if it doesn't, you'll have grown enough as a human being that you won't need it to.

-C

Read older entries here.

Cole McCade is that one guy you heard about somewhere. The human Grumpy Cat who writes sweet contemporary romance about starry-eyed girls and dirty erotica about the people who slip between the cracks of Crow City – including A Second Chance at Paris, Zero Day Exploit, and The Lost. He sometimes gives out decent advice from the perspective of a guy who just happens to be a romance author and a fiercely unapologetic feminist; he also invites other authors to seduce him (and his readers) with just one line from their books. Written a romance or erotica? Want to seduce Cole's readers? Send in one line here. Have a question on love, dating, relationships, romance, life in general…or just want to say Dammit, Cole? Use the submission form here.

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