The
Game is such excrement, as though ‘pick-up artists’ have
something more than a clue that isn’t actually just pseudo-science wrapped up
in jerk-tech and served with a side of patriarchy. If you want to prey on the
vulnerable because you’re vulnerable, The
Game is for you; otherwise you’re off on the wrong paddock. The only truth
about dating between the ages of 16 and 23 is that it’s all crazy and nothing
makes any sense.
So you’ll play coy and maybe that’ll work for a bit,
maybe you even get laid. Then you stumble on the best girl ever—mind like a
diamond and a body to match. Oh ho, but guess what? She was raised old school
on the land and if you want to walk with her you best come correct. Here’s you
playing it off like it’s no big deal thinking a bit of hard-to-get never hurt
anyone’s chances and then all of sudden, she’s gone—she didn’t think you were
serious.
Next up you’re taken for a ride; a wild, glorious sweaty
ride for months when you least expect it by a girl who likes to dictate terms
herself. Didn’t think girl’s like that existed did’ya?! But actually they’re everywhere. She bowls
you up one night out the back of Knightsbridge while you watch her smoke and
wish you hadn’t quit. Just when you’ve excavated a come-on tucked away
somewhere in your dense skull full of all that ‘game’ you realise she’s been
playing you the whole time.
And finally you develop a fetish for the exotic and to
your amazement all the other cultures of the world have all their own customs
and they all fragment further based on social class and schoolyard clique.
So you’re buggerd in the game of love and no advice from
your girlfriends, an aged womaniser, fucksticks who choke women as an
icebreaker or your dad is going to help you out of it.
So what are you to do? Well you might just try being
yourself.
I know it sounds strange but it actually works real well
in all its grand simplicity. If you like a girl, and I mean really like her,
just tell her. If she likes you back then it’s a goer. If she doesn’t like you
back then it wouldn’t have worked out anyway if you’d tried to game her into
the sack and then tried to fan that kindling into a bonfire. The only thing
burning would be you.
If you don’t like a girl and you just want to see her
naked, then tell her that instead. Maybe you’d stand a better chance of success
if you played her for a fool, but then the real fool would be you because now
you’re a dickhead.
And if a girl takes your fancy and you’re real curious
and you want a bit more than just to see her naked—maybe you want to have a
weekend in the lonely mountains and a few late nights defending Jack Kerouac
from her criticisms (‘the beatniks are such boys!’), then her tell her that.
Why must we always assume that only men want flings?
There are six billion people on the earth and plenty of
‘em of want exactly what you do. It could be sex, love, babies, a fling, a
frolick, a big white wedding down at the local Parish church, fornication
dressed in fur, whatever…you can find it. And you will if you’re honest about
what you’re looking for and how you feel about it.
So don’t try to make sense of it, just put yourself out
there. Frankness has a surprisingly mysterious quality to it in a world full of
wankers doing magic tricks and asking out 60 girls in a night at Mooseheads
like that’s dignified.
You’ll fall on your face a bit, but that’s unavoidable ‘cos
like I said, these years are pure chaos. Once the mid-twenties roll around
people have a better sense of themselves and want they want; they’ve been
burned a bit and they’re not so scared or sensitive anymore; they’ve loved once
or twice, lusted a bit more than that and they’re ready to communicate. Then
you don’t need game you just need character. In the meantime, just call for the
hit and hope you come up 21.
This article was originally published in Woroni, the student newspaper of the Australian National University.
Comments
Post a Comment