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Reader James has a game-related question:
Hey Heartiste I’ve got a question. What do you make of this:
On a couple of occasions I had college age girls strike up conversation with me by telling me I looked like someone they knew. In a third occasion I just recalled while writing this, another college girl struck up a conversation with me while waiting in line at the grocery store by claiming I looked like Kevin Smith of Silent Bob fame (in all three scenarios I was overweight and in all likelihood sporting a homeless person style beard since I was too lazy to shave. I’m also pretty tall, a bit over 6′, but physically that was likely my only positive trait.) whom she was a huge fan of. In one of the bus cases, the girl was telling her fat friend she needed a boyfriend because she was stressed and wanted to “blow off some steam”, and she must know I heard the conversation since they were only a meter or two away from me. Grocery store chick was standard issue swpl, 6-7 by most men’s standards I would estimate. Blow some steam girl was pretty hot, probably an 8. Second bus girl looked similar to grocery store girl, only she had short hair (huge turn-off) so I can’t give her more than a 5.
I figure they were all lame pick-up attempts, but who the fuck tries to pick up a guy who looks like a hobo? so I’m gonna ask some of the experts for a second opinion.
Fame is such a powerful aphrodisiac for women that even the flimsiest simulacrum of it can redound beneficially to a man. Yes, if you look like a famous dude, no matter how physically repulsive that famous dude is in real life, you can score pussy off of your gift. Sometimes this works despite the girl knowing you’re a lookalike.
Kevin Smith may look like a hobo, but he’s famous, and chicks will spread for all sorts of famous men, no matter how dirty, ugly or smelly they are. (The same is not true for men, as demonstrated by the professed romantic travails of ugly Hollywood actresses who don’t get anywhere near the lustful attentions that ugly Hollywood actors get.)
You’ve never seen a woman’s rationalization hamster spin its wheel so fast than when the roided-up rodent is giving a presentation to the Figurehead Ego in the corner cortex trying to convince him that the vehicular meat unit ensconcing both of them needs this ugly, unhygienic, drug-addicted famous guy’s seed pronto.
Figurehead Ego: He’s only interested in a one night stand.
Hamster: We can win him over. And it’ll feel better than that five year grind we had with Bob from accounting.
Figurehead Ego: We’re just a groupie to him, like all the others.
Hamster: We’re not like all the others. Look at how he smiles at us.
Figurehead Ego: He’s going to forget us before the morning is over.
Hamster: We can beat the morning odds with a well-timed home-cooked breakfast. We’ll be unforgettable.
Figurehead Ego: Did you read in the tabloids how he had a different girl on his arm last week?
Hamster: You can’t believe everything the tabloids say.
Figurehead: And how he was in a group orgy with Victoria’s Secret supermodels on his birthday?
Hamster: Mere rumors. Anyhow, those girls are sluts.
Figurehead: And how he got married in a private ceremony last month?
Hamster: He doesn’t love her.
Figurehead Ego: And how he cheated on his wife?
Hamster: Open relationship. Don’t you just love honest men?
Figurehead Ego: And he punched a homeless guy in the nose?
Hamster: He was probably asking for it. Those bums can get pushy.
Figurehead: Ok, but what about his drug addictions?
Hamster: He’s a tortured soul.
Figurehead Ego: His run-ins with the law?
Hamster: His passion sometimes gets the better of him.
Figurehead Ego: The facial contusions he gave to his ex-girlfriend?
Hamster: Oh god.
Figurehead Ego: What?
Hamster: I just tingled.
Figurehead Ego: Yeah, I could feel that seismic shift all the way up here. What about the shit smell emanating from the seat of his pants?
Hamster: I don’t smell anything. But if I do smell something wafting delightfully under my nose, it must be his musky cologne. More men should be so confident to wear such unapologetically masculine scents.
Figurehead Ego: And the flies buzzing around his head? It looks like he hasn’t bathed in a month.
Hamster: He’s in touch with nature.
Figurehead Ego: And the yellow stains in the pits of his t-shirt?
Hamster: He doesn’t care what people think of him. So sexy!
Figurehead Ego: He just farted in front of you.
Figurehead Ego: And I suppose you’re Ok with the log he left in the toilet.
Hamster: It looks like Jesus.
Figurehead Ego: Or that he’s a D-lister who hasn’t had a profitable hit in ten years.
Hamster: He’s FAMOUS. Didn’t you see the TMZ photo of him pissing on the front steps of that rape crisis center?
Figurehead Ego: Or that he’s going absolutely nowhere in life.
Hamster: But I love him.
Figurehead Ego: And his dick is rumored to be small…
Hamster: It’s all I need.
Figurehead Ego: …and he’ll come in two seconds.
Hamster: I’ll come in one second.
Figurehead: And you can forget about post-coital cuddling.
Hamster: Not when he sees what a catch I am. He’ll hold me forever and ever and never let go.
Figurehead Ego: You tired yet?
Figurehead Ego: Look, let me put this to you straight. He’s going to use you as a convenient hole to get his rocks off. He will demand ass privileges (something, need I remind you, you haven’t given to any man before, even your ex-husband) and you will get nothing you want in return. He will, if the drugs don’t first kill his erection, face fuck you until you’re gagging and tasting hot tears. He will then kick you out of his hotel room, with perhaps an autographed pillow mint as a consolation prize. He’s not going to call you back. He’s not going to take your calls. He will pretend he never knew you when people ask. He doesn’t love you, he never will love you, and he will never marry you, buy you a house, or (knowingly) have children with you. In fact, it’s very likely he will despise you approximately fifteen seconds after he has unceremoniously deposited his demon seed in your ululating vagina. Afterwards, men you actually have a decent shot at winning commitment from will hear of your slutty reputation and avoid you like the plague. There is nothing in the world you can do to alter this guaranteed outcome. Second thoughts?
Hamster: Aren’t these garden flowers pretty?
Figurehead Ego: I give up.
Hamster: OMG, he’s pointing at me. And now he’s pointing at his crotch. *SWOON*
So here’s my suggestion to you, reader, the next time a girl mistakes you for Kevin Smith. Run with it. What’s that, you say? You’re ethical? Tough shit. Go home and play with your Epictetus.