If there’s one thing I’ve been repeatedly called since I started this blog, it’s a douchebag.
How that is supposed to be an effective insult when it’s held in such high regard in the male community, I don’t know. Because if I’ve gotten one question the most over the past few years, it’s: “Why do girls always sleep with douchebags?”
To which, thanks to the Online Equality Act of 2013 (not yet ratified), I am required to state: “Surely you do not mean all women, because it is collective generalizations like that about gender, which serve to reinforce established norms, that dampen progress. Thusly, please note herein, when I refer to “women,” I do not mean all women, but rather a certain subset within women, loosely defined as all women, save for the ones who vehemently object to being judged off accurate stereotypes.”
Got that? Good. Women like dicks. Simple as that. They are attracted to the literal penises God designed to be put inside them for the purpose of finally having their own baby shower (awww, doilies!). My best guess is that the transitive property applies, and by being a dick, by being called a dick, you win attraction by association. Or something. I’m no Jeff Sociologist.
But I do know it’s easy to be a douchebag. You can do it if you’re a skater or a hipster or a prep or into EDM. Douchebags are the most diverse subgroups of the male phyla. It doesn’t matter if you wear Wayfarers or Affliction. Any douche can get laid. All you need to do is follow these simple rules.
Shirts: As a douche, your shirt is the first way to tell women you are trawling for vag and not here to discuss My Little House on the Prairie. It needs to be loud. It needs to look expensive. She needs to see that shirt and say “God, I want to fuck that shirt.”
Why?: Showing a predilection for material goods develops a subconscious connection. She now thinks you can relate to aspects of her life.
Collar: Does the shirt have a collar? Pop it. Yes. I’m serious. Don’t care about your opinion on the matter.
Why?: A popped collar shows disdain for societal norms. And that’s how I am in the sack, baby. My popped collar says we won’t be starting or finishing in missionary.
Hair: Product, dude. Gotta have the product. Doesn’t really matter what. Use gel or sculpting paste or pomade if you truly are an asshole. Douchebags must show they care about their hair.
Why?: Shimmering, chemical-based coifs work as a lighthouse to attract women from afar. Perhaps even across the Pacific. Asian FTW.
Yelling: Yell a lot. When you are in a cab. When you are processing down the aisle with a bridesmaid. At the supermarket. You are the most important person here and you need to display that.
Why?: Evolution, my brah. Women are still turned on by the strong vocal chords of the howler monkeys we evolved from. (Ever taken a girl to the primate house at the zoo? Hoo baby.)
Drinks: Bud Light Platinum. Were you seriously considering something else on the night you were trying to be a douchebag?
Why?: No woman can resist a man slugging BL Nums.
Honesty: Are you just here to get some trim, dawg? Let that be known the moment you meet every girl. “Me? I’m tryna get my dick sucked. Are we doing lemon drops or Jager bombs?”
Why?: Women love honesty.
Lastly, Don’t Ever Doubt Yourself: Would a true douchebag waffle about hitting the dance floor? Say “Ehh… I don’t know. I’m not that good.” No, he’d rip off the snap pants he was wearing (I forgot to tell you to wear snap pants) to reveal his sexy dancing briefs (you are wearing sexy dancing briefs, right?). Any hesitation shows you are not a true douche.
Why?: Authority. By showing how much you lord over everything (dance floor, alcohol, your alcohol tolerance, chumps trying to start shit) you show yourself to be an actual lord. Kings were the original douchebags and women will be attracted to you for access to land and water. Hey, it’s my fault we live in a Magna Carta-based society. Use it to your advantage.