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In a development that pushes the right-wingers-are-always-worse than-you-give-them-credit-for conceit so far that we prisoners of the machines have begun to question the simulated world into which our consciousnesses have been projected, the “Conservative Dating” seminar at CPAC is being run by none other than some dude I never heard of but should have since he’s sort of internet-famous, and since I’m always in the market for guys that make me look good by comparison. This Wayne Elise fellow is the perfect wingman, provided you can plausibly deny later in the evening that you knew who that creep standing next to you at the bar was.
Elise runs a site called “Charisma Arts,” the best evidence I’ve seen yet that charisma is a hard science. It’s one of those joints where you can pretty much randomly click on any article, stab your index finger blindly at the monitor, and find something mockworthy, but heck, let’s go with this one.
Dealing with hot women is like talking to a celebrity. You know they’re famous. They know that you know they’re famous. To pretend you don’t know who they are is just going to make you act silly. Best way to interact with a celebrity is to admit they’re a celebrity, introduce yourself and move on to other topics of conversation.
“Hey, you’re George Peppard from The A Team. I used to play with your action figure. I’m Wayne Elise. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“I thought you were dead. Anyways, It’s good to see you. I saw you checking out that girl’s butt. Don’t worry. I’m not calling you out. It’s okay, I was checking her out too.”
I’m not unacquainted with social awkwardness, he whispered from behind a houseplant, but in entirely theoretical interactions—ones I’ve dreamt up, then written down, then edited—I’m pretty fuckin’ smooth. This guy—or rather, his idealized self—is a flailing nitwit, and pretty obviously closeted with a thing for the silver foxes.
No, seriously, read that. “I saw you checking out that girl’s butt?” Y’know what’s a gayer pick-up line than that? “My urethra’s filled with powdered MDMA.” But not by much.
I’ll proceed under the assumption that he’s 100% straight just for the sake of argument, or for the sake of not finding him sympathetic, whichever, but man. “I used to play with your action figure.”
Same sort of thing with women except for a twist. When I meet an attractive woman I often acknowledge my attraction soonish in the interaction. “Wow, you’re very attractive. I think you’re like super hot.”
Which will not, does not, can not work unless she thinks you’re making fun of the kind of jerk that would come on like that, so it sounds like he’s gonna bank hard in another direction, right? Like this is all a comical setup? Being intimate with halfway-decent members of the opposite sex has made you so naive.
But then I add something, you might call it the tricky part. I call it the honest part – the part that allows her to stay involved in the interaction with me. I say, “But, just so you know, I’m NOT hitting on you. I wouldn’t hit on anybody without knowing their situation. Hey, I just had a conversation with a ghost. Maybe you saw me talking to an old guy a minute ago…”
That’s known in the comedy biz as a “callback.” This one in particular is what’s known in the comedy biz as “a really bad callback.”
“I call it the honest part,” Christ. I’d want to punch him in the face if he did a better job masking his self-loathing; as it stands, I want to help him figure out where it all went so horribly wrong, assist him in working through his father issues, and be there for him as he rebuilds his self-esteem, then punch him in the face.
Through years of dealing with women, being married twice, dating a playboy model, working the threesome thing, having numerous female friends, rooming with an exotic dancer, and on and on, I can assure you that it does NOT turn women off or chase them away when they know you find them attractive. That’s just guy’s interpretation of their male-ego experience. That’s not what’s going on ‘under the hood’ in women’s minds. This is so commonly misunderstood that there should be a name for it such as aphroditeeffectprotophobia.
Can I just pause here a sec to chastise my generation? Look, I don’t doubt that Elise has had some success with these methods—equality would presume there are women awful enough to be receptive to such awfulness—but that can’t account for more than a few conquests. If he’s done well for himself on the dating scene, it’s because my female peers, so steeped in the culture of ironic distance, have been sleeping with raging tools for the kitsch factor. But c’mon, watching Sid & Marty Krofft shows is one thing, that won’t give you an STD, Lidsville excepted.
Anyway, there’s more, like a whole bunch of paragraphs more, and somewhere in there he illustrates a point by yelling “BINGO,” which, in pickup artist lingo, stands for Boy am I a Giant Douche Nozzle, so I’m gonna second that and call it a night. I plan on revisiting Charisma Arts plenty in the run-up to Valentine’s Day, though; took one post to forgive myself a good chunk of my past romantic weaknesses and failings, if I surf that site a couple more times I’ll have the kind of confident swagger that’ll make off-duty SEALs think “keep that guy away from my girlfriend!”
And now Elise is instructing lovelorn wingnuts. Mandatory sterilization was going to be difficult to implement even in the best-case senario, so good thing they’re taking care of it themselves.
(famous last words before looking closer at the Google hits: “I can’t believe Pandagon hasn’t written about this guy yet”)
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 02/09/12 at 11:23 PM • Permalink
