Look, it isn't about being an asshole, or acting full of yourself. Those are just various ways people get around the key issue of being confident. So what if you're fat? Tons of chicks date and fuck fat guys. So what if you're nerdy? Tons of nerds get laid every night. The only reason these things are an issue for you is you have bought into the idea that you aren't good enough. Why do you think guys constantly put each other down and give each other shit? It is one of the many ways to establish dominance and who gets first pick of the women. All you have to do is have the bearing of an alpha male and they'll treat you like an alpha male. Take the hottest guy you can find and have him act like a nervous wreck sucking up to women and most probably won't give him a shot.
Most women aren't going to sleep with you, even fewer are going to want to date you. The only way you sort them from the masses is to go for it.
Fuckin' A right!
Man, I think that's the best advice yet!
At least until the hot guy gets pissed that you're horning in on his action and thumps you.
Lemme tell you a story...
Set the Way-Back Machine for 1986. My third freshman semester in college. I was hanging out in the basement of a fraternity, drinking beer with about a hundred other people. Loud music was playing, and I was all suave and debonair. Some friends had led me there earlier in the evening but had taken their leave, and I knew no one but was still on the prowl.
Suddenly I spied her. Laura was in one of my English classes, and all I knew of her was her name. She was drawing a beer from a keg, and I came over. She recognized me, but only knew my name and nothing else about me (English class didn't lend itself to getting-to-know-you chit-chat). We drank a few beers and talked about the class. I wasn't really putting the Mac on her or anything, just chatting. Well, maybe a little. Unbeknownst to me, but soon beknownst to me, Laura's boyfriend was a member of this fraternity, and he was drunk and jealous. And near.
In one second I went from chatting up a young lady in a friendly conversation to being pushed up against a frathouse basement cinderblock wall by a big burly football-player-type guy, with one hand around my neck (guy had his hand all the way around my neck. A handful of neck doesn't leave too much neck. Has anyone ever had a handful of your neck?), and the other hand drawn back to punch me in the face. In the face. With my head against a cinderblock wall. And this occured right in the break between two loud songs, so it grabbed EVERYONE'S attention. Everyone was watching the turn of events.
I knew I did not have the physical wherewithal to extricate myself gracefully from this situation, so I drew upon my vast and unmatched intellect. Right before he could do anything else, I quoted a line, from the great peacemaker Gandhi, I think.
"Violence, my friend, is the last resort of a limited mind".
And an amazing thing happened.
He cocked his head, as if to reflect upon the wisdom I shared with him. His hand on my neck relaxed ever so slightly.
To this day, I am convinced that if I did nothing, he would have let me go, realizing that he'd look like an utter nob to a roomful of strangers and his fraternity brothers if he pummeled a smaller guy who was doing nothing wrong.
Sadly, that realization came too late, as I took advantage of his loosened grasp and grabbed his thick wrist with both hands, to push it off my neck and make a break for it, all thoughts of scoring with Laura banished. I saw that big hamhock-sized fist come at my face, and then I knew no more.
When I came to, they had dragged my unconscious body upstairs and thrown me out on the lawn like a sack of dog food. People were stepping over my body to go up to the party. My nose was bloody (and broken, I discovered later), and my right eye was swelling up something fierce. Even worse, in my drunken and knocked-out state, I had apparently shit my fuckin' pants, which was probably why there was only that one punch, then violent ejection from the party. I picked myself up off the ground, shook the blood and grass out of my nose, and looked back at the frat house.
My emotion, my alpha-male, shrieked, "Go back in there and challenge that asshole to a fair fight!".
My intellect, however, took stock of the situation and said, "You know, (ticking off items on fingers as he went...) your nose is probably broken, you can barely see straight, he was bigger than you in the first place, and he has many friends there while you have none present, and, oh, by the way, you shit your fuckin' pants like a little kid."
So I slunk back to my dorm the roundabout way, avoiding crowds, and took the back stairs to my floor. I waited until the coast was clear, then walked into the shower with all of my clothes on, cleaned myself up, and called it a night.
The moral of the story, my sons, is while it might be fun to pull the tail of the alpha-male in a group, alpha-males are most dangerous when being challenged for dominance of the females. Even when you don't think you're actually challenging them. Use caution as your watchword.
Hope this helps.
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