True Story©… Dating Advice

 

     Not that anyone needed to know this, but I might have benefitted in my earlier days from some good dating advice.  One might say it was a small miracle that I escaped high school without my virginity.

This story ain’t about that…
Well, not directly.

     See, I always have this thing where I am willing to expend a little effort to see people do well, even if that means they will do better than I am doing or have done.  With that in mind, I used the time I have had in the house over the past seven months helping men with the tools they might use to assist them in securing more and better women.

     I hear you laughing, but these kids these days have it MADE.  They have the whole of the internet, cell phones – of which I did not have until age 21 – are standard now, and ON those phones cameras are unavoidable under nearly any stretch short of the kind you send a kid into a gas station counties away because you will be using it to sell crack.  They have dating sites wherein you plug in your information and what you like and are looking for, throw the algorithm on spin and it matches you up to whatever you’re looking for, and then it is all on you to talk that good shit until you have secured their attention.
One could call it a free or cheap ride to the showroom wherein you now must show credit worthiness to secure what you hope will be your ride home, to employ a messy metaphor.

     And for the low low price of $11.61 per contact, I will step in and offer an assist on what to say to avoid being clowned into the deepest recesses of the interwebs.

     I set up the service and explained that I myself had graduated from being the weird corpulent kid that took a long-ass time to grow into his feet who girls wouldn’t look at twice to eventually being one that they would make first contact with.
I mean, I am still stocky, but apparently in my adult life I have found women who like that until I found THE someone who likes bearded fat men.
Anyway, the post is up for three days, and I am on the couch binge watching Snowfall for like the third time and my phone buzzes.

“I saw this girl’s ad and I am REALLY interested in what I see on the surface, but don’t want to become another face in the bin she leaves on read, what do I do?”

     I moved to the laptop and arranged a screen share with him so he could show me what he was looking at and how to best snare what was on her profile to respond to.  I gleaned that she was – or played a good game pretending to be – interested in travel, knew her way around GOOD food (e.g. NOT Cheesecake Factory), and was quite possibly a reader.

Me: “That one pic is from Georgetown Grand Cayman.  Mention it and the row of banks where wealthy criminals hide their money.”

Client: “Wait.”

Me: “And ask her if she got a rumcake from that little blue and yellow shop right there off the pier.”

Client: “Whoa”

Me: “And--…”

Client: “WAIT!!!”

Me: “What?”

Client: “How the fuck you know this?”

Me: “I’ve been there two or three times.  She is reading The Bluest Eye in that one pic, what is YOUR favorite book?”

Client: “Uhh…”

Me: “You gon’ need to get one if you want to get her.”

Client: “Seriously?”

Me: “As a heart attack, and I had something like one of those two years ago.”

Client: “Shit”

Me: “There is one other surefire way, though.”

Client: “I’m all ears.”

Me: “Send her a picture of your dick.”

Client: “WHAT?!!?”

Me: “Send. Her. A. Dickture.”

Client: “But they HATE that!”

Me: “That’s because everyone sends them same-ass underwhelming ashy dicktures.  You gon’ have to dress it up a bit.”

Client: “Wow, and I’m paying you for this?”

Me: “Kinda like cosplay.  Get an old black t-shirt and some ribbon, make a tuxedo and take a picture of it like that.  She is clearly into humorous shit, based on the movies she says she likes.”

Client: “Crazy as this sounds, I’mma try it.”

 Me: “Atta boy!”

And now, we wait…
… and wait…
… and still more waiting…

4 days later, the inbox buzzes…

Apparently, his extensive (but really just perfunctory) “knowledge” of her travel and interests was enough to get into conversation with her.  He faked his way through the reading part of it by having actually read Donald Goines’ novels and thereby giving himself a “smart hood dude appeal.”  They graduated from dating site to phone number exchange and then FB friends.
… but then it went off the rails.
He send her the carefully-curated digital image of his dinkus and she LOST HER SHIT.  Screenshotted it, inboxed the screenshot to select women on his friends list, and even shared it in a FB group that she and I are mutually in, WITHOUT his name blurred.  The back-and-forth was amazing.  I swear i heard the name Oswald Cobblepot mentioned at least once.

     …  yeah, I should probably leave his messages on read before blocking him.  I already moved the $11.61 in my Cashapp to BitCoin anyway.

So I had done my part, right?  I know this shit CAN work, even though it really shouldn’t be done at all.  I am not using any groundbreaking technique or anything, just FULLY exposing that the way to get the attention of any interviewer is to show that you have been paying detailed attention yourself.

Two days later, I had another request…
I now had a system, we crawled through her profile together and got a feel of what tract to take.

Me: “This is a horoscope girl.”

Client: “Huh?”

Me: “She is into astrology and shit.  She may or not fully understand what she is talking about, but she is interested.”

Client: “So what I do?”

Me: “Homework.”

Client: “Huh?”

Me: “You gon’ need to work the old Google-fu on this one.  I can’t have my wife auditing my browser history and thinking I have taken an interest in astrology.”

Client: “So what do I do?”

Me: “Look at what she has written.  Start by Googling those exact terms, she probably got them from SOMEWHERE.”

Client: “Okay, and then?”

Me: “Under that same source, you will likely find your path to a proper rebuttals.  Get some good plagiarization on.”

Client: “Wait, huh?”

Me: “Take the words, switch some shit up.  Make it your own voice.”

Client: “Ahh.”

Me: “I can only tell you what to do and say, not how to say it.”

Client: “Understood, you ain’t always gonna be right there.”

Me: “Bingo”

Client: “Good luck to me, I guess.”

     I received the $11.61 and went on about my day.
This one either moved quick, or he was incredibly good working the Google situation to his advantage.

Client: “You’re a fucking genius, man!”

Me: “I wouldn’t go that far…”

Client: “Well your trick worked.  Two messages, and she asked me for my number.”

Me: “A woman not afraid to shoot her shot.”

Client: “Yeah, so now what?”

Me: “You match her energy.”

Client: “What?”

Me: “She showed an enhanced level of interest, no?”

Client: “Yep.”

Me: “Now you need to show her that you are also a shot-shooter.”

Client: “Okay, but how?”

Me: “Send her a picture of your junk.”

Client: “You mean like my collection of--…”

Me: “… NO, dummy!  Send her a dickture.”

Client: “Send a WHAT?”

Me: “A picture of your weenie.”

Client: “But why?”

Me: “Think of it like this…  You’re in the mall and you know you like shoes.  You walk past Foot Locker or Champs and they have a REALLY nice pair right in the front.”

Client: “Woooooooow…”

Me: “Now, you weren’t necessarily planning on GOING into the shoe store, but now you just have to.”

Client: “Unbelievable.”

Me: “Believe it, mister.  Now get in there and send her a pic of your unit.”

Client: “Well…  Since you put it like that.  Here goes nuttin’!”

Me: “Heh.  Puns are fun.”

Client: “Thanks”

It is quite amazing to see how blissfully unaware the general populace can be can be to the fact that some bored asshole is putting them on.
Using my name from Cashapp (I should REALLY change that to Moe Phillips), he chased through mutual friends on FB and tried to video call me.  I ignored it twice before answering.

Me: “Do I know you?”

Client: “Don’t play that shit with me, she BLOCKED me!”

Me: “Guess she wasn’t trying to buy any shoes that day.”

Client: “WHAT?!!?”

Me: “Umm…  Nothing?”

Client: “I want my money back, asshole!”

Me: “All fees are non-refundable, as we cannot possibly guarantee desired results.”

Client: “I am going to dispute it with--…”

Me: “…  I take Cashapp and not Paypal for a reason,  but thank you for your business though.”

Client: “I’mma find you n***a, and I SWEAR--…”

Me: “… my signal is bad right now.”

     I unplugged my router to kill my connection long enough to kill the call before it could hand back off to cellular, then I blocked him.

I promised to help, not to get 100% desired results.  The beauty of blocking them after making off with their $11.61 is that NOBODY will believe that they’re paying a dating guru to tell them how to get girls online, only to resort to telling them to send these women a dickture.  If they’re blocked from dragging me into the fray, I never have to bother defending myself online from this less-than-plausible situation.  Sprinkle in the embarrassment of them ending up in this situation, most would sooner delete their profiles and go into hiding or some shit.

     It all adds up to me being able to continue my illicit acquisition of usually small amounts of money in the pursuit of my own entertainment under the guise of “helping” people.

Naturally, there was a scene three.

Me: “Man…  This is a church girl.”

Client: “I know, I figure I am looking for something more stable than I have had before.”

Me: “Ha!”

Client: “What?”

Me: “You know that ‘church girl’ fantasy is a fantasy for a reason, right?”

Client: “Whatchu mean?”

Me: “I mean ‘some of the biggest freaks is in the church’ is not a joke.”

Client: “Wow.”

Me: “Yeah.  But you gon’ have to play the game to find out.”

Client: “How?”

Me: “Do the ‘one of us’ thing.  You’ll be all about whatever she is about.  You will need to ask some questions, then learn to pander.”

Client: “Sounds…  Political.”

Me: “Well, yeah.”

Client: “How do you know this works.”

Me: “Because I know.”

Client: “Damn.”

Me: “No one else was in the room where it happened.”

Client: “Huh?”

Me: “Nothing.  Just get your most proper level of outward piety on and get in there.”

Client: “Okay”

Me: “Good luck.”

     Three days, I get an excited message.

Client: “Dude, you are a genius, has anyone ever told you that?”

Me: “Recently, actually.”

Client: “So, she is a good conversation.  We exchanged numbers and text constantly.  She even sends me pictures of her daily goings-on.”

Me: “Pictures?”

Client: “Yeah man.”

Me: “So in these pictures…  Is she wearing like a long sleeved blouse and below-the-knees skirt?”

Client: “Huh?  No, it is September!  She had on a sundress.”

Me: “Cleavage?”

Client: “Beautiful, yes.”

Me: “You’ve hit the jackpot.”

Client: “What?”

Me: “She is a believer, but she is not so hidden behind it to deny the world the appreciation of her--…”

Client: “… what are you saying?”

Me: “You need to turn up the heat a little.”

Client: “How?”

Me: “You’re gonna have to send her a picture too.”

Client: “Yeah, like what?”

Me: “Now you’re going to need to go slow, here.”

Client: “How so?”

Me: “Start with one after you’ve cut your grass or worked out or something.  Sweaty and stuff.”

Client: “Okay, but why?”

Me: “Fish for compliments.  See how comfortable she is with you in a tank top or no shirt.”

Client: “Makes sense.  Then what?”

Me: “Dickture.”

Client: “WHAT?!!?”

Me: “A dickture.”

Client: “It sounds like you’re telling me to send her a picture of--…”

Me: “... OF YOUR DICK!  SEND IT!”

Client: “Why though?”

Me: “Because shooters shoot.”

Client: “Huh?”

Me: “She may be straddling two worlds.  She is a good girl, but she is also sexy as a fu--…  She looks good and knows it.”

Client: “So what good does sending her a pic do?”

Me: “Hedging your bets that you can enjoy both sides of this.”

Client: “You are insane.”

Me: “Heard that before too.”

Client: “Heck, I’ll do it.”

     Not two hours pass and I have five messages.

Client: “Dude, can we talk?”

Client: “Can you call me?”

Client: “I’m desparate”

Client: “I sent her the pic you told me to send, and I think I have a problem.”

Client: “Man, she used my phone number to find my Facebook page.  She inboxed my MAMA what I sent her.  HELP ME MAN!!!”

     No better time than the present to block this man from contacting me.

     Gamers know that there are levels to video games…

Easy
Medium
Hard
God Mode

     I survived my journey in a world where "God Mode" didn't yet exist (but that would have been IT if it had), and without the benefit of technology and/or social media.  If you scroll up there you'll see where I said that I will “expend effort to see people do well,” and note that nowhere in that vague sentence did I suggest that I will make their journey easy.  I had to weather what I weathered and I am more successful on the other side of it for what my experiences were.
I had to see to it that these gentlemen experienced their own trial by a different kind of fire.  Iron sharpens iron, they say.

     I will sleep like a baby tonight, knowing that the service I have done them will be a lesson that they will eventually take as a net positive.

… I’m also not leaving my house for a little while though.