Most of the dating population seems to be under the impression that girls have it easy in dating. Supposedly, all I have to do as a chick is flash some killer cleavage and flip my perfectly wavy hair, and the hot men will come a-runnin’ with drink offers, dinner invitations, showers of diamonds and trips to Fiji.
But what happens if your boobs aren’t capable of anything close to “killer cleavage” and the persistent cowlick in your hair, however adorable your mother finds it, negates any possibility of perfection?
Such feminine wiles may work if you happen to be one of those lucky bitches who have not only won the genetic lottery but have secured the funding to surgically enhance said winnings.
I, unfortunately, am not one of them.
Don’t get me wrong—I don’t think I fell off the ugly tree. Other than sometimes (OK, oftentimes) wishing my boobs were bigger (A-cups unite!!), I’m generally content and happy with my lottery loot. However, when you can’t swing a rattlesnake and not smack five of these ridiculously beautiful freaks of nature, it’s difficult to get the hot men to notice me and my un-cleavage-arific A cups.
Not being the patient sort when it comes to boys and getting asked out on dates, I decided at the early age of thirteen that waiting around for a movie/ice-cream invitation from the Nirvana-obsessed boys I lusted after in high school just wasn’t going to work for me.
At first, I sucked. I completely freaked out many of my male peers by bucking the apparent trend and asking them out (also known as picking them up) first. I’m well aware I’ve left a trail of confused and weirded-out guys in my bungled pick-up wake.
However, after many years of failed attempts, mixed in with some pretty awesome success stories, and many, many hours spent testing my theories, I can say with much certainty that I know my way inside, outside, on top of and all the way around the art of pick up.
This book details both the cringe-worthy but hilarious failures on my personal quest to conquer the ego-trouncing mountain of pick-up knowledge, as well as the golden moments of glowing success. It then segues into my best attempt at a definitive how-to guide for us girls, detailing exactly how to get from salivating after the Hot Guy you just spied across the room, all the way to setting up the first date, no matter the situation or location. I’ve also included a section on what Hot Guys look for in girls (based on interviews with a sampling of real, live Hot Guys), and a section on what you, the hot, sassy chick, need to figure out about yourself and what you want before you have too many dates to know what to do with them all. (Hot Guy, by the way, refers to any guy you personally find ridiculously attractive. This, and some other useful terms are defined in the glossary in the back of the book.) Basically, I’ve tried to make this book the how-to guide I wish I had when I figured out waiting for the dudes to make the first move wasn’t my dating modus operandi.
Over the years, I’ve actively tried to make as many mistakes as possible—to get them out of the way and learn as quickly as possible what works and what doesn’t. If I’ve met my goal with this book, by the last page you will have no doubt as to how to pick up any Hot Guy of your choosing in any situation. You will also have laughed out loud with me and at me, thought that I was a genius, thought that I was an idiot (in a “what was she thinking!” sort of way), and most of all, whole-heartedly agreed with me that waiting around for the Hot Guy across the bar to come and talk to you is the lamest thing EVER.