We’ve all done it, pretending for hours to give a fuck about banal sorority-based drama, laughing at stories we’d never laugh at from an entity without A+ sweater knockers, and spending cash we wouldn’t spend all for a shot at the organic drink between our talking (and potentially sexual) partner’s legs. In reality, we’re two-thirds of the way through an unforgivably depraved mental plowing and willing to do just about anything to facilitate this dream becoming a reality. But here are three surefire signs your hand is the only thing you’ll be fucking tonight.
1. She tells you her friend has a problem of some sort
Unless this is directly followed by “but she’s a fucking idiot I don’t care she can do what she wants,” you’re in for a hell of a struggle. Whether it’s an old hook up “she can’t go home with” again, a bad breakup, grade issues, or even a tumultuous menstrual cycle, if she randomly tells you about some incredibly overstated “crisis” concerning her (ALWAYS UGLY) friend, you might as well chalk it up as a loss and move on.
This, for lack of a better term, is a “get out of cum free” card. She, usually early on, has established. without actually saying so, that she can’t go home with you because she has a pressing matter “any good friend” would tend to. Now of course while, as men, we understand that anything short of an amputated appendage or the castration of one of our brothers would never come in the way of emotionless, PornHub imitation drunken sex, the sorority woman just isn’t usually wired like us.
While it is possible another girl will tend to the flailing whale hell-bent on blue ballsing you into oblivion, in most situations you’ll end up with a number, a hug, and a feigned “I’m so sorry” before taking out your aggressions beating your poor dick like it owes you money.
Save yourself the time. If Free Willy is floundering, so is your frock.
2. She doesn’t want another drink at last call
When minutes from a potentially regrettable and morally shameful sexual experience, one does not turn down the Jesus juice known as alcohol. You just don’t. There have been times I’ve essentially known my flag wouldn’t rise past the tragedy of half mast, and, even if it did, I’d feel nothing but warm squishiness before faking a cum shot and passing out like a tired old whore. But still, you take the drink.
Saying no to one last pre-bar close shot is like spitting out free MDMA at Coachella: you’re either a cop or a fucking loser. The declination leads to the inevitable “I have early class,” “my parents are coming,” and “I told my roommate I’d be home” excuses that put a man on the verge of a Mickelson at Winged Foot-level meltdown before a late night tin soothes his urge to destroy everything in sight.
You’re about to explore the most intimate and private areas of a person you hardly know, doing things illegal in most states and punishable by stoning to death in the Bible, and you don’t want a last shot? I don’t fucking think so.
Note that this is of course not applicable to girlfriends or sure things, solely the unknown “hey I just met we should spread fluids on each other” romance. Also note that this of course does not extend to “too drunk” individuals, as that can lead to a bevy of consent issues. And nobody wants that.
3. Her roommate “doesn’t have a key”
I’m angry just typing this. This is the absolute worst-case scenario for any of us. You’d be better off draped in an Israeli flag in the Gaza Strip, or working as a female stripper in Libya. The “no key” might as well be the official closure of the twat for all intents and purposes, never to be reopened… at least not by you.
First of all, it is absurd. Sure, sometimes I go out without a key, but most of us non-geeds have doormen and security that will let us in. If not, hey here’s a novel idea: GIVE HER THE FUCKING KEY. We’re in college, this isn’t that difficult. We can solve problems, we all took the SAT (or ACT).
Oh, you don’t want to be locked out? Ok, can’t she leave it unlocked? Put the key under a mat or windowsill? Fuck, its Saturday — won’t she just be fucking awake? This is a guarantee she wants your penis neither in nor around her mouth. You’re like a real life Jonah Hill, except without the fame and cash.
If she tells you she has to let her roommate in, you’ll never be inside her. Run and hide like a migrant worker under President Trump — you’ve lost all hope.
The bar pickup is a beautiful business, but, just like in any industry, sometimes you need to know when to cut your fucking losses and move on to the next frontier. Somebody needs what you can supply, you just need to find the right customer..