In case you don't feel like listening to me ramble for 3 minutes, the gist of the above video is that I am answering a reader question that can be summed up as: How do I talk to this really hot dude on the subway that I want to bone?
I know a lot of you get mad at me for saying it's super-easy for a girl to get laid anytime she wants. This is one of the fundamental planks of my nascent political platform, but I am willing to concede that I am operating purely from my own experience and maybe I have some kind of traditionally attractive ladygene that makes this possible for me even though I have been doing this shit since I was a size 24. The truth is, I do attract a lot of male attention.
I realize that acknowledging this makes me sound like a total asshole, but I think I might be one of those people who kind of emanates a ... sex thing. Like Camilla Parker Bowles, who I hear is animalistically magnetic in person. Even in high school, my mom often remarked, "Did another boy fall in love with you?" I got a lot of proposals. A lot of men slip me their phone numbers. Probably it's because I look easy. But I think it's at least partly because I operate from a place of sheer, boundaryless confidence. There is literally not one ounce of shame in my sex game.
See, I sat on enough bar stools alone to know that most places in this world, it takes approximately 5 minutes for a man to approach. I'd fiddle with my phone, pretend to be waiting on someone. Sometimes I wouldn't even have any money; I'd spent it all on drugs knowing someone would buy me drinks. It didn't matter if I'd showered or slept. Someone always bit. Once you cross that thinly drawn line from drug user to drug addict, you cease to live by society's rules.
Maybe due to the very fact that you're breaking the law on a daily basis, whatever boundaries you may have had start to melt and blur together. And the more you cross the line without consequence, the more you start to feel like you can get away with anything, that all societal rules are just guidelines you can easily skirt. The world starts to look like this weird blinking video game where you can jump off a cliff and just start over again.
Plus, rejection isn't really a concern when your soul is all bleached and crumbly like a piece of paper that's been through the laundry. And when you're not concerned about being rejected by potential sex partners, you quickly realize how rarely it happens.
I remember once, during the height of my bad behavior, going out to a bar with a sweet, fresh-faced friend who wanted to flirt with cute boys. I mean, who doesn't? In the tenor of the aging dominatrix warned me I was becoming a "whore" during that week I trained to work as a dominatrix, I crackled jadedly: "Watch this," before swooshing my hair over my shoulders and twisting my face into a beguiling expression for the approach. (And yes, I realize this is basically a reenactment of that creepy story I told you about my Dad, so congratulations on your psychology degree.)
What I'm trying to say is that boys are easy, if you're just looking to get laid. (And if you want one to fall in love with you, the best way is to be just looking to get laid.) But I understand that it's a little easier to talk to them in a bar or party setting than in the harsh synthetic light of public transit. (If you are at a bar, though, just offer to buy them a drink. Guys love this, they never get it!) Wherever you are, though, "Hi" is pretty much the only opener you need if he has any sort of game. Although, if he had any sort of game (and isn't non-cheaty married or gay) he probably would have already picked up on the deep eye-jiggling you were giving his balls and said hello to you.
If "Hi" seems too bold, just make up something to ask him about -- where he got something he's wearing, because you think your friend would like it, or what book he's reading or something about the train delays or anything halfway legitimate. OR, you can do what I would probably do because a guy did this to me on the train once and I found it quite charming -- hand him a note on your way out the door! This guy's said something about cute girls reading books about John Dillinger and if my pussy wasn't all locked down already, I would have totally hit it. Just be like, "I think you're cute, would you like to have a drink?" and add your digits. Doodle an anus for good measure.
BUT. This is my warning to you: This guy probably sucks.
Nothing against him, but like 90 percent of people suck, which you rapidly realize if you spend any time on the dating scene. GOD, everyone SUCKS! And even if he doesn't suck, your boning relationship is likely to end at some point, and after that you are going to run into this guy FOREVER and EVERYWHERE. Like, 20 times more often than you run into him now, just because you fucked him. And you get on at the same stop, so you'll see him in your neighborhood too, which will be extremely uncomfortable. Just ask 19-year-old me what happened when she hooked up with that photography student who lived in her dorm and spent the rest of the semester peering in his window across the courtyard to see him cavorting with young ladies when he CLAIMED to be sick. ASK HER!
Send me your questions to firstname.lastname@example.org, or tweet me @msemilymccombs.