Geico is insuring everybody now. Automobile drivers, motorcyclists, ATV enthusiasts.
Lloyd’s of London is notorious for its “bumbum” policies, insuring the most inane shit: Dolly’s breasts, Jimmy Durante’s nose, Catherine Zeta-Jones’ genitals and other actors’ junk and legs and stuff.
I wonder if anyone would sell me insurance to protect me in case a future girlfriend turns out to be a real nag or a totally selfish control-freak bitch. I’m sure I’d have to pay some pretty high premiums. Then again, if they were too high, her control-freak-ass would probably notice the bill fairly quickly and nag me about the expense and I’d get my money that much sooner. “This money should be in a high-yield savings account earning five percent!”
When I give a lady a compliment, I like to compliment her on something for which she probably doesn’t get a lot of attention. Women know when they have amazing tits and a gorgeous ass and there’s no need to bring that up unless you can’t find any other nice thing to say about her. That’s pretty rare for a woman, so even if you can compliment her on her choice of fabric for the day, that’s a start. Women appreciate a man who notices the minutia, the small details, and if you want to get anywhere with the fairer sex, you have to demonstrate a heightened awareness; Compliment a woman on the qualities for which she gets the least attention, but be genuine. A woman’s self-esteem diminishes when she reads a compliment as counterfeit, and that defeats the purpose.
Here’s a compliment I recently extended to a pretty mocha honey I ran into at work:
“Hi, I don’t mean to come off as too forward or anything, but I was hoping to pay you a compliment: Your Social Security Number is very symmetrical.”
“You noticed!
“I love how it’s all even numbers and how it increases at the beginning and then decreases at the end. Very sexy.”
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.”
“How did you get my Social Security Number?”
“Personnel files. I knew that there was something special about you and I was determined to find out what it was.”
“I am entranced by you.”
Women are usually very insecure about their Social Security Numbers, sometimes going to great lengths to keep them out of the hands of strangers, but if you have access to that information, the outcome of her happiness will justify your methodology.
One caveat about telling a woman something nice: While it’s always tempting to follow up your compliment with some awkward pick-up line, NEVER DO THAT. A compliment is a stand-alone gift. You put it out there, she takes it and it’s a done-deal. Women are like dogs: and while they can’t smell fear, they *are* sensitive to ulterior motives and squirrelly behavior. Pay your compliment and then get the hell out of there. Let her marinate in your good juices.
A Latin honey I am marginally acquainted with got the following royal treatment from me recently:
“Hi, I don’t mean to come off as too forward or anything, but I was hoping to pay you a compliment: You have an amazing neck.”
“Thank you! I’ve never really liked my neck. I think it’s too long and chunky”
“I completely disagree. Your neck is very taut with a pleasant and consistent texture. It has an even color and very few craggy striations, it smells great and draws my attention away from other women around you. I love the way your neck curves under your jawbone and up toward your ears. It’s regal and it really gives ’base’ to your head.”
“Wow, nobody’s ever complimented me on my neck before.”
“Well, when I notice perfection I feel it’s my duty to say something.”
“Would you like to have coffee some time?”
“No, I should walk away because a compliment is a stand-alone gift.”
“I am entranced by you.”
Do you see the delicious sexual tension I created in this scenario? This woman had a negative belief about her neck which I was easily able to turn around by focusing on her, paying attention to the details and then telling her what I felt. From that point on, whenever she looks at her neck in the mirror, she’s not going to see it as long and chunky, she’s going to look at it as sculpted and sexy. She will remember my compliment and forever think something positive about herself. Bingo.
I met a white/Filipina at a party a few weeks ago and she got a little special attention from me, the master:
“Hi, I don’t mean to come off as too forward or anything, but I was hoping to pay you a compliment: I really love your blue blouse.”
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. What do you call that shade?”
“Turquoise.”
“Turquoise? That sounds very exotic. I also like your vermilion blouse.”
“Vermilion blouse?”
“Yeah, the vermilion blouse you just picked up at Loehman’s yesterday.”
“Wow, we just met tonight, and yet you are attentive enough to know about a blouse I bought yesterday at a store clean across town. That makes your compliment seem more credible!”
“Yeah, the vermilion blouse will be perfect for drawing attention away from your perfect earlobes.”
“You think that I have perfect earlobes?”
“Well now I’m a little embarrassed; Really I just meant to focus on complimenting your blouses; I never meant to get into a whole thing about how perfect your earlobes, elbows and nostrils are.”
“OMG! I’ve always hated my elbows and nostrils! I was going to get surgery!”
“Save your money. Your nostrils are perfectly kidney-shaped and are evenly spaced. And from this angle I can see that your elbow skin is elastic enough to permit free movement, and even with your arm fully extended I see absolutely no wrinkle artifacting. I personally know eight women who would die to have elbows as sexy as yours.”
“I am entranced by you!”
1. Radiate confidence
2. Know your place
3. Be witty, but don’t be a smart-ass.
4. Be intelligent
5. Contribute around the house; help while cooking; help with the dishes.
6. Write thank-you notes
7. Make love to mom.
For fun I searched The Net for my 4th grade girlfriend. That is to say, she was my 4th grade girlfriend because she was my 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade.
I’ve lost you.
Let me try again.
SUMMARY:
When I was in the 4th grade I had a girlfriend in the 3rd grade. I wasn’t in the 3rd grade, my girlfriend was the 3rd grader, and she was my girlfriend in the 4th grade.
CLARIFICATION:
I was in the 4th grade and had a 3rd grade girlfriend, so she was my girlfriend in the 4th grade, in the 3rd grade.
Got it? 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade.
So anyway I typed her name into The Net and hit enter and crossed my fingers and there she was, her picture staring back at me! Above her beaming smile hung Bitch-Goggles — oversized glamour-puss sunglasses designed to transform cute, normal, nice girls into snobbish tinted bus windshields.
There’s her picture! Look at her smile! Look at those teeth! I remember those teeth! They look exactly the same as when I’d first seen my 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade, in the 2nd grade. She was in the 2nd grade and I was in the 3rd grade when I first saw my 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade.
What a mind-fuck to see a 30 year old version of the first girl to ever crush my spirit. And there was her picture. And there were her words.
I could remember that cheerful blonde 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade playing Chinese Jumprope in her kung fu slippers with her friends. Her feet pecking the hot San Fernando Valley asphalt like drumstick tips on a tight snare.
We once shared an Astropop as we watched some kids play handball. My 4th grade 3rd grade girlfriend and I watched some 3rd and 4th grade kids play handball on the handball court in the 4th grade. Or at least *I* was in the 4th grade. We hadn’t kissed yet, but we’d swapped spit on the Astropop. That was pretty hot.
Soon things got a little dicey. Within a few months of our romance, she started dropping hints, evolved to making suggestions, and culminated with outright requests that I procure for her some manner of golden neckwear. I ain’t talking scarves; I mean actual golden metal.
“I wouldn’t mind having a chain someday. I think that you should buy me a chain someday. Are you gonna get me a chain or do I have to date Jon?”
My 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th graded wanted 24k! 24k for 3rd G G in the 4th G!
I was panicked! Panicked! If I didn’t buy this 3rd grader a gold chain, she’d find another beau. What pressure! Who poisoned this quick-footed, round-toothed blondie?
This was all becoming a very sophisticated relationship.
How did the 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade expect her 4th grade boyfriend to buy a 1st rate necklace for a 3rd grader? How could I possibly find such capital to fund a jewelry purchase? I had very little equity in my Nash skateboard. I didn’t even know how to multiply! Where could I have gotten a job? I couldn’t complete homework with any regularity, but I should make consistent, timely payments to my jewelry financiers?
If you and I were boyfriend-girlfriend, on our two month anniversary I think it would be pretty hot if I drove us to one of those swap-meet photographers who specialize in photographing cholas so we could have our picture taken together.
Do you know which ones I’m talking about? They’re shot through six layers of cheesecloth and Vaseline so that you can’t make out anybody’s facial features and everybody radiates an ethereal, white Kirlian aura.
Sometimes the homegirls are leanin’ all sexy on an doric column with a fake window or some air-brushed background behind her… flowers in her hair, pouty mouth — posing stomach-down on a bear-skin rug or some shit.
I really believe in enduring symbols of love and chola photography is the way I can best express my fondness for and commitment to you.
