As much as I’d like to think that I can walk into a bar and leave twirling pinkies with the hottest babe in the room, I’m actually about as good at talking to girls as I am at chess, a game I would lose to a diapered chimpanzee. The few times I’ve gotten a girl’s number, it’s only after taking 500 milligrams of beta blockers and breathing into a paper bag with my head between my knees. The little attention I do get from pretty young things has less to do with an open mouth than with dexterous fingers. Meaning, even though I’m as likely to call a girl as I am to snort coke off a South of the Boarder coaster with Charlie Rose, I am a master texter. For those like me, the face shy and the phone shy, this is for you.
From Text to Sex: A Beginner’s Guide
1. The Accomplice
Because you are unable to talk to girls unless you’re thanking one for telling you that there’s toilet paper stuck to your shoe before running out of the bathroom and hyperventilating in the alley, you’re going to need a spy. Fags make the best spies. Your fag friend can introduce himself to the girl you’re peeping with an opening line as innate to him as breathing: Oh, girl. Where did you get that handbag? He can also check out her manicure for you, which is a key indicator of a woman’s sexuality. While many straight women keep their nails hygienically short, the only queer woman who let their nails grow above the finger tip are guitarists, coke heads, vampires, and dirty bisexuals. And while all of the above might be fun for a swing around the neighborhood, your cervix will look like scratching post after your first late night date night. Best to skip the unknown and let the ones with the French tips buy their own drinks.
When your fag affirms that the object of your objectification is on the left side of the fence, he’ll give you a secret wrist flick and you’ll know to walk over and hand him his appletini while he’s talking to your new friend/future lover. All you have to do is say hi and hope some of his glittery shine rubs off on you. If you don’t have a fag in your closet, any friend less cute than you works, but the wing womyn approach is the only way around starting with face-to-face contact, with a few notable exceptions. More on this later.
2. The Facebook
This is where it all begins. Get your fag to friend the new babe and write a flurry of witty shit all over his wall. Take, for example, the following update, penned by myself: Side effect of the earthquake: Lot of people talking about ‘Chee-lay.’ Best case scenario, your new friend/future lover friends you first, if for no other reason than she feels inadequate about only having 647 friends when her ex has over a thousand. If she does friend you, let the wall flirting to begin. But if she doesn’t friend you first, you have to take the bulldyke by the horns. Friend her, but also send her a message. I have used the following intro line in more than one friend request (like, way more than one, possibly even on people who are reading this right now): My avatar wants to be friends with your avatar. I generally prefer to limit my friendships to Facebook because my two-dimensional self is far more charming than my real life self, so maybe we can get virtual drinks sometime. This line works so well on gay ladies that I encourage you to copy and paste it in your message. According to my straight lady friends who’ve tried this approach, however, it seems to be less effective went sent to dudes. Good thing you’re gay.
After a few messages, ask for her number and give her yours. Because you are phone shy, say something about how you’ve already used all your minutes volunteering for the suicide crisis line but you’ve got unlimited texts.
3. The Text Message
You may be afraid to make eye contact with any same gendered person whose same gender you want to hang out with, but don’t be afraid to send the first text. Use this: This is the inaugural text of what promises to be a fulfilling textual relationship. I look forward to getting to know you 140 characters at a time. If she doesn’t respond, she’s not someone you want to make homemade mac ‘n cheese for. Defriend. If she responds in a manner worthy of a few laugh-out-louds, you have climaxed the first mole hill. As your textual relationship evolves, you should say things like, Can we have a song? Can it be Birthday Sex? and What third world nation would you like to adopt our babies from? Asians are good at math but Russians have hearty livers. My favorite text of recent days reads something like, I will rub your body down with camel spit and shower you with moonbeams, fake tanner, and assorted office supplies. What’s love got to do with it? While I was the recipient and not the sender of this bedazzler, I intend to steal it the next time I’m trying to textually woo a bitch.
4. The First Date
After you’ve been texting for a while and have investigated her on Facebook, you should have enough information to make engaging in actual human conversation less nauseating than teaching a sixteen-year-old to drive stick shift. It’s time to move into the actual world. You could go for a walk or have dinner or get coffee, but I strongly advise you to spend your first evening together drunk. Alcohol isn’t just for sterilizing forceps. It’s also for making you hotter, funnier, and more likely to give it up on the first date. I see no downside to getting shit horsed and making out with someone you only know via text message and Facebook. If the two of you meet in your neighborhood, take her to the places you know best. When the bartenders are buying you drinks and the patrons are giving you high fives, she’ll either think you’re incredibly popular or that you’re on your way to liver failure. Either way, at least you’ll get to show her off to your friends. If your new friend/future lover doesn’t drink, you should get loaded anyway and hope you’ll at least get a ride home out of it. If you don’t drink, well, hopefully there’s some nice girls in your book group.
6. The Exceptions
For the face shy, there is, of course, another way to meet people—dating sites. While you might be a little uncomfortable trolling the Internet for strange, I know several people who’ve met their people online. I personally have an Ok Cupid profile, which, shockingly, hasn’t been at all effective at helping me meet hot babes. The only messages I’ve gotten are people asking what’s wrong with my face and if I know what eroto-comatose lucidity is.
If you do choose to go the world wide webular route, put some thought into your profile. Be honest. Take my friend Michelle Dawson, who, besides being a master dry-humper, is also responsible for concept behind this post. Michelle is entirely able to find lovers without the help of the Internet, but she’s into the real weirdos, so she turns to Craigslist. Her ad:
I need to find love and I need to find it fast. My ovaries are talking to me, and they’re getting loud and obnoxious. Two days til ovulation.
Things you should know about me: I’m a stage five clinger and I like to front-to-front orangutan all night long. I enjoy pillow talk starting at around 7:30AM. You must be okay with inhaling large amounts of pet hair and should not be disgusted by dirty dishes or dust bunnies. It’d be cool if we can occasionally use mayonnaise in place of lube. I’m not so into kink, I just really, really love mayo.
Perfect, right? I would totally date her if she weren’t her and I weren’t me.
There is one other exception: write a blog. Girls like it when you can string words together. The problem with this approach, however, is that if you meet someone who’s already read your blog, you run out of stories before your second drink. Your coming out story? Your fear of upholstered furniture? She’s knows. She knows that you aren’t sure that you’ll ever be anything but a part-time worker with bad credit and crooked teeth. She knows that you don’t believe in God and that your spirit animal is a cartoon puppy and that you have the word “brunch” tattooed on your arm. She knows that your friends moved away, that your mom pays your phone bill, that you measure your worth in the number of people who wave at you on the street. And when she figures out that you really are better on the Internet than in real life, call your fag and leave your house and start over one more time.