Whoa! What's all this hubbubbery? Do you sport with me, John Proctor? A Special Edition of Dear Apron??? Oh, this is gonna be good. Like, shart-your-mom's-Mom-Jeans-good.
Am I right? Tell me I'm right. And I'll tell you my shoe size.
(Wink.)
But seriously, former-First Lady Barbara Bush, I was thinking about doing a right down, re'glar royal Dear Apron column for today, where I bum-pirate letters written to Dear Abby shoot out my own special word-jat of slightly sardonic and scintillatingly saintly advice, but then I thought-- no.
No.
After two years of dispensing often cruel and violent advice to the masses of dunderheaded, wicker-lipped sponge-asses out there, I thought it was time to mix it up a little bit. Just for today.
Just for you.
I was thinking to myself: what is the world missing when it comes to unsolicited, hopelessly-flawed, easy-to-mock, cookie-cutter advice? And then it hit me like a 1990 Olds Cutlass Ciera being piloted by a leathery nun:
Dating advice dispensed by an out-of-touch, suburbanite, surly thirty-year-old man who has been in a committed relationship since February of 2003, and who has been married since October of 2006.
That's right, Cumbums. Hold onto your short-n-curlies, 'cause it's gonna be a wet'n'wild weekend if you follow the glittering, crusty, ne'er-to-be-questioned advice of...
DEAR APRON'S Guide to Ass Getting (a.k.a. "G.A.G.")
(See what I did there? Of course you don't. Troglodyte.)
The main thing you have to remember when dating is that it's a game. I mean, they even called it that on T.V. Remember? The Dating Game? Once, Groucho Marx went on as a bachelor to play a trick on his daughter, who was on the show.
That was FUNNY!
Dating is funny.
When people date, funny things happen. They get drunk and throw up on each others' backs during doggy-style sex. People who date fall down a lot, and they work really hard at making up stuff that they hope will impress the person they're trying to seduce, not realizing that people aren't as difficult to seduce as they used to be.
Seriously, you don't have to pad your resume. As long as you're not 243 pounds and your forehead isn't glistening with perspiration, he'll fuck you, even if you didn't really get an "A+" in that macroeconomics class your junior year at Vassar. I promise.
While seduction admittedly isn't much of an art anymore, there is still an unmitigated need for absurd dating advice, and that is where I come in. Ladies, you're clueless. Men, your brains are swimming in ejaculate. You need my help. I am your love guru. I will teach you things. You will thank me. Oh, yes, whilst in mid-mount, you will thank me.
Here are some quick-n-dirty tips:
For the ladies:
* Undearwear is for losers.
If dating's a game, (and I think we've established that it is) you're playing to win, aren't you? Well, act like it. Wearing underwear to a date, especially a first date, is like jumping out of a plane with a parachute. Well, of course you're going to survive the jump if you're wearing the parachute (and you remember to open it at the correct altitude), but that's just playing it safe. Where's the fun in that? Where's the adventure? Where's that sense of derring-do? Trust me. Commando's the way to go. I would have put this under the Unisex Column, but I'm pretty sure that most guys don't need to be told to lose the underroos when seriously entering the dating game.
* Show a little cheek.
While we're on the subject of underwear, now that you've learned how its only purpose as far as dating goes is to hold you back from going FTW, don't be afraid to let your ass hang out a little bit. Let's face it, girls: conservative clothes are for the office and for nuns tooling around in 1990 Cutlass Cieras. If you're going to date, do it like you mean it. If you're not wearing an outfit that permits your possibilibeau to get a glimpse of dat azz, then you're just handicapping yourself, and there is really very little I, or any Vogue assistant editor, can do for you.
* When in doubt: meat.
No, I'm not talking about s'ing his dee. Come on, I may be crude, but I'm not crass. There is a difference-- principally in spelling. I'm talking about the true, red-blooded, heterosexual male's proclivity for carniverous endeavors. If his attention seems to be lagging during dinner, do NOT be afraid to resort to drastic, nay, meatnormous measures. Order something with bacon IMMEDIATELY, and, if the odors do not perk this sumbitch's interests, delicately slide a slab of that pan-loved pig sliver between your breasts (which I would hope are appropriately displayed in a "Hallo, Bombshell" underwire). Make no mistake, you boney little bitch: meat is the way to a man's heart. Ignore this braised steak-tip at your great peril.
* Speak as little as possible.
It has been clinically proven by 397 out of 400 balding, impotent male scientists at some impressive-sounding researchy place that the tone, pitch, yaw and surface area of a woman's voice is the single greatest detriment to a male's psyche, thoughts of self-efficacy, and romantic harmoniosity. So, if you're ever finding yourself pondering the meaning of an awkward silence during a date-- trust me: it's only awkward for you. Men love silent women. Why do you think we invented sex dolls and "Penthouse," and women invented "The View" and Meredith Vieira?
* Read a lot into everything he does. Or doesn't do.
Women are really good at reading a lot into things that men do, or don't do. So, you all should keep doing that. Because, while you're really good at it, you're not quite perfect at it. And practice makes perfect.
For the mensfolk:
* Keep physical violence to a comfortable minimum.
Women don't understand our primal desire to break things/faces, so, if you're caught up with the desire to do structural damage to some pock-marked waiter's face or take out your testosterone-fueled aggression out on some private property, just remember that this will inevitably lead to what can be mathematically calculated as the "Negative Pussy Effect," or N.P.E. for short. God, I love acronyms. I. L. A.
* Don't go too fast.
Let's face it: the Three Date Minimum may sound like an antiquated rule-of-thumb, but it still holds true today. You've got to know a girl pretty well before you can let your words fly with careless abandon. Think about it this way: words are just like farts-- you wouldn't fart in front of a girl you just met, right? Okay, maybe you would eke out a tight, clenched quiet one, and that's fine, but you know what I mean-- not a real Hindenburg, Oh-the-humanity style one, right? So it's only natural that you have to play what you say carefully, too. For instance, you wouldn't propose uncommon, eyebrow-raising sex acts with a woman with whom you have not enjoyed at least three successful dates, correct? So remember-- give it some time before you propose, "One in the pink, two in the stink," or, you know, whatever your... preference might be.
* Hit the Cheesecake Factory
And hit it hard, brother. You know what I'm talkin' 'bout, n'yah mean?
* Respect The Fact That She's Doing You a Favor
Let's face a painful truth: women are doing men a favor by dating them at all. Surprised to hear me say that? Come on, it's true. If you're a man, look at yourself. You smell like old sneakers, and your old sneakers smell like old sneakers that have been eaten by a dog and then deposited anally on somebody's lawn. You're covered in hair like some woodland creature. Your sex organ is a banana topped with a mushroom, and that's if you're circumsized. If you're not, well, frankly I'm not sure which looks stupider. Many of us have more hair in the crack of our ass than we do on our head, and we're all destined to look like Andy Rooney-- if we're lucky. Emotionally, we're all kinds of stunted and retarded, and, intellectually, none of us are going to give George F. Will a run for his money anytime soon. So, in the end, just be grateful that she's not a lesbian, or forcing herself to be one.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go watch some streaming vids of intensely hot chicks getting paid to pretend they're lesbians.
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