Sanity Check: Roses are red. Violets are blue...I WANT IN YOUR PANTS, hbu??

Hellooooo Pocket Protector-type people!

This calls for some celebration, for I am back, and cynical as ever!  *Confetti shower*  I realized today that I haven't done a sanity check in AGES, and it's damn well time for it.  Fall quarter is well under way at WWU, and JEEZUM CROW the boys have no idea what they're doing...

This week's subject: Ineffective pick-up strategies for both men and women.

Case and point.

The Insanity:
If you are not a smarty-pants university-type person, the best place to observe this would be at a large social gathering like a concert or wedding (more on weddings in future blogs).  However, if you are a fellow certified pre-med drone or the like, you need not look any further than a 100-level intro series lecture to see this phenomena that I'm going to arbitrarily dub "Infatuation Retardation".

"I have a neural network expanding in my pants that I'd love you to see."

Let's be honest here...pretty much any 100-level course you take in college is going to be a complete joke (ESPECIALLY if it's Psych or English 101).  Everyone who's in there is literally taking that class for the GPA pad and so they don't have to feel bad when they show up still half-drunk to their final exam and manage to score a B+ regardless of their intoxication.  No one really learns jack shit, the professor definitely knows that no one is paying attention to him/her, and then you realize that you should have been paying attention once you get into all of those "wanna-rip-my-eyes-out-from-so-much-reading" upper division courses.  For now, however, the only thing on your mind is that fucking hottie in the 4th row in that "just sheer enough" top that also shows off cleavage that you'd give your right testicle to have your face buried in for an hour or two.

But how will you rise up and inhale your "breast of heaven"?  Most guys choose the more coy route, which is simply staring awkwardly or going so far as to invite her to coffee.  Those suffering from infatuation retardation, however, may utilize stranger outside resources so to speak.  Have name tags in lecture?  Does she have it on her tit?  You're going to do exactly this:

*Point at name-tag at an uncomfortably close distance* "So...um...I see your name is Mary. Pretty exotic name heh heh." *Hold pointed finger for that second longer than is necessary*

Don't have genitals that dangle?  Well, ladies, I've seen a tactic that is just as "slap in the face" (or tit as it might be) as the men.  WHY ARE WE WEARING LEATHER STILETTO BOOOTS WITH MINI SKIRTS TO AN 8 AM CLASS?  What the fuck.  Seriously.  You're learning about oxidation-reduction reactions, not how to drop it like it's hot on the dance-floor...or pole as it would be.

Also, outside of class, there are the honkers and cat-callers that apply to both sexes.  Most girls have fallen victim to this.  You're all innocently walking down the street, enjoying the sweet chirping of songbirds and light summers breeze when suddenly--

HONK OUT OF FUCKING NOWHERE

--sending you careening into the post-sidewalk foliage to avoid the out of control car coming from behind you.  Jk, it's just some horny dudes who are using their car horn for no fucking reason.  My other favorite is cat calls, which usually end up sounding like "Hey how are yoaoibneoiioengoije...WHOOSH" as the car passes by.  What am I supposed to do with that?  Send up a Bat Signal with my phone number for you?

Then we get into the whole party scene, and this mostly directed at the lady-skanks.  First of all, I like girl on girl action just like any guy out there, but when I know FOR A FACT that you are straight and that you're just doing it for attention, I think you're a whore.  You'll probably get some dick that night and enjoy it...but probably some herpes the next morning and not so much enjoying.  Also, pretending to be more drunk than you actually are just so guys will take advantage of your intoxicated state is how you  get raped one day.  Don't be that stupid.

Lastly, we need to talk about third-party flirting.  We all did it sometime back in middle school, but a few of use haven't grown balls yet and still resort to this "tell him I said this" bullshit of yore.  We're all adults here, honey: tell him how you feel and feel the cold sting of rejection.  Trust me, unfriending him on Facebook will be just as much vindication as burning that little piece of paper with the "no" box checked.

The Sanity Check:

I really don't know that there is much to say here outside of the fact that we're all stupid when it comes to flirting.  Realize that one day, you will make a complete ass out of yourself, and the adult thing to do is to walk it off and stop being such a fucking pansy about it.  Everyone will fail, and if you resort to one of the situations outlined above, you will feel like this:

But seriously everyone, rule numero uno to keep in mind: if you think you're being super coy and subtle, you are SO not.  If you like someone, tell them.  It's the only way.  Gentlemen, stop ogling and ask her to coffee after learning about her personality.  Ladies, stop overanalyzing EVERY SINGLE INTERACTION you have with him.  He cut your conversation short after class cuz he really had to pee, not because he is so repulsed by you that he'd rather swallow this than kiss you:

Be honest and be realistic.  If he doesn't really like you, who the fuck cares?  Why would you waste your time on something like that?  Move on.  More fish in the sea and all that jazz.  I'm a strong believer in the "stop trying hypothesis".  Once someone stops trying to be picked up by the same/opposite sex, they immediately start attracting them.  When you're making an effort to woo someone, you're not showing that person who you really are.  Quirks are what make a person interesting, not how long they honk their car horn at you.  

So what have we learned?  Skip the tit-spotting and go grab a latte or star-gazing or some other cute shit. It works wonders, trust me.

Next week's subject: Fedora kids and other ways NOT to assert your individuality

Until next time, dweebs <3