Lie to me, I promise I’ll believe…
I had a friend who was a stockbroker. He was good at his craft. When anyone asked him his secret to success, he always said “How do I kill in this business? Practice. In college, I had to sell myself to the girls!”
There are very few jobs or hobbies that, if described with 100% candor, would intrigue a girl to pussy exploding abandon. Espionage is one. President of the United States is another. You can’t go wrong with jewel thief either. But for most aspiring ladykillers, the word of the day is embellish.
Here’s how this works. Let’s say you’re a CAD monkey architect and your hobbies are biking to Whole Foods for smelly French cheese, building computers, and masturbating. Your only travel experience is a vacation to Turks and Caicos. (You’re in good company. This describes 98% of men.) Now most girls, if they’re interested, want to know what you do. They have a dedicated neural network pulsating in the pastel-colored folds of their girly brains that impels them to suss out how a man makes his living and how he goes about living. But, being women, they also have a contradictory twin neural matrix that would rather you not tell them the whole, eye-glazing truth. Their need to scrutinize is held in check by their need to fantasize. So this is what you tell her:
“Oh, I’m a creator. I guess you could say I bring together art and science in the design of living space. You heard of feng shui? I’m all about it. That’s the life of a cutting edge architect. My hobbies? I mountain bike competitively. There’s nothing like the rush of careening down a muddy, rocky trail in the scenic wilderness of a rugged foreign land, the giant fronds of tropical plants slapping you in the face along the way. It’s breathtaking! I’m also something of an electronics whiz and once tried to hack into a Chinese government website back when I was a rebellious kid. Some people say I’m a very passionate guy, so much so that I can hardly contain my passion. And to tell you the truth, it gets me in trouble more often than not.”
See? Not too truthful, not too deceitful. Like Baby Bear’s porridge, juuuuuust right.
Another example:
Real You: Intern at psychiatric hospital, avid music downloader, 70s porn lover.
Embellished You: Investigator of human social dynamics under stress, music critic and indie scene connoisseur (or DJ in a pinch), erotic art collector.
Women want the varnished truth. Every man with an ounce of common sense about women and a healthy streak of amoralism will polish his sales pitch. Even Brad Pitt glosses over The Mexican. It’s a testament to how ignorant the majority of men are about women’s motivations that so many of them won’t or can’t embellish their lives in service to their loins. They think in their honesty they are being virtuous, but they are only being boring, lazy and bland.
Some men will wonder how long the pretty lies can remain undiscovered. What if you want an LTR with a girl? She’ll find out eventually, right? Wrong. First, most girls don’t really want the 411 on the dirty little details of your tiresome lifestory or career, unless they suspect you of cheating. They *like* the ruse. Second, as long as they aren’t working in the same office with you they will never really know what you do. And you know what? They don’t want to.
Maxim #39: Never tell a girl how much you make, even if you’re loaded. In case of marriage, keep separate accounts.
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