Almost Interesting (25 page)

I’m an average-looking dude. It is different for me than for someone like say, George Clooney, who is far from average. This guy had been single all his life, up until very recently. People have tons to say about my being single, saying things like “The guy’s fifty. I mean come on, it’s just not cute anymore. When is he going to get his shit together? I always see him with a different girl, it’s so embarrassing. Act your age and get married already . . .” But with someone like Jeter or DiCaprio, the hens on
The View
and those other shows say things like, “Why should he get married? He’s single and loving it! Let those guys have their fun. They’re rich bachelors; having the time of their lives . . .”

I always wondered why Clooney caught a break on that and I didn’t. I think it’s the good-looking factor. At least that’s what I’m blaming it on. I heard a quote once that has been attributed to Clooney but I’m not sure he said it. Supposedly when someone asked him, “Why aren’t you married? Aren’t you afraid of being lonely?” he replied, “The loneliest I’ve ever been was when I was married.” It’s a great quote whether GC said it or not, and probably hits home with a lot of married men and women out there. Some people have marriage wired. I’m not totally against the trip down the aisle, but I don’t think I’ve found a situation where I could nail it perfectly. I’ve dated great girls. Especially in the last few years so it’s more my problem. I’m not anti-marriage, I’m anti-bad-marriage. But now Clooney has caved in and gotten married and I’m sure will have a kid by the time this book comes out. That surprised me. Plus he was the one guy I could point to as a cohort in the bachelor game when people were busting on me. By the way, I have nothing against Clooney; the guy has always been cool to me. He even showed up at the
Black Sheep
premiere and took a picture with my mom and danced with her so he’s okay in my book, married or not.

I also heard a great tidbit about Derek Jeter. (Do you like how I put myself in the same company as the best-looking/most famous actor and the best-looking/most famous athlete? . . . I do.) Word is that after he hooks up with a chick, he sends them tickets to a Yankees game or a signed uniform. Genius. So ballsy. Again, I don’t know if this is true but I have incorporated it into my life anyway. When girls leave my house, they can take either a
Joe Dirt
key chain or an
Emperor’s New Groove
throw pillow. If they’re still not happy, I tell them there’s a box of irregular Kate Spade purses in the garage . . . grab one on the way out . . . limit one per customer.

So now that my preamble has gone on too long, I wanted to share some wise words for you dudes out there. Take this as you will, as it is coming from a guy whose longest relationship was three lap dances in a row. I call them Chick Tricks and a few Dick Tricks.

Dick Trick:
Try to stop telling your date you think every other girl on the planet is hot. You’d think this would be a no-brainer, but for some reason, I did it forever and I’m not sure why. I’ve finally stopped. Remember, girls are smarter than us, and find sneaky ways to prove it all the time. One method is to tell you that every guy you ask about
isn’t
hot. They have this down perfectly. Whenever I’m with some beautiful girl and she’s looking in a magazine and I say, “Would you fuck Brad Pitt? He’s hot, right?” they’re like, “Yuck. No. Not my type.” And then I’m happy. Two days later, I say “Oooh, Johnny Depp is in a new movie. I bet you’d fuck him in like two seconds.” And she’s like, “No way, he’s gross. He’s so old and such a weirdo. He looks dirty.” I’m like, “Really?” (And believe it.) Then she pulls the switcheroo. “What do you think about Jessica Alba?” Of course, I say, “Oh my God, she’s so fucking pretty!” She’s like, “Oh really? What about Rosie Huntington?” I say, “Holy shit, she’s a fucking ten.” “Would you like to have sex with them?” Like a dumbass, I say, “Of course! . . . all day, every day! Why, is it possible?!” She just stares and it finally dawns on me that I have said something wrong. She’s got that look like I was supposed to know that she was only ACTING like she wouldn’t fuck Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp. “Don’t you get what I’m doing? OF COURSE I WOULD, YOU MORON. THESE GUYS ARE BEAUTIFUL. I’D FUCK THEM ON THE HOOD OF YOUR CAR IF I COULD. PLAY THE GAME, DIPSHIT!” And then I realize . . . I probably shouldn’t have given my real opinion. I will not fall for that again . . . until she asks me about Jennifer Lawrence or any waitress . . . (By the way, I’m bluffing when I say I’d fuck anyone “all day, every day.” That’s a lie. More likely it would be twice a week; once Monday and once Thursday or Friday, and both of those would be about six minutes of boning combined with a lot of wheezing and talking about myself in between . . .)

Chick Trick:
If you’re a promotional model and you’re forty, it’s time for a new vocation. Handing out Miller Lite key chains in a bar during March Madness is a four-week gig, not a lifelong modeling career. At twenty-two or twenty-six, it’s not a bad time killer to earn a few bucks, but when you’re still dragging out the bikini to hit the bar and talk to a group of guys you would have done anything to avoid ten years ago, it is time for a rethink.

Dick Trick:
If you’re with a girl and you want to bring a sex toy into the relationship, buy it new and have her watch you take it out of the package. One time a girl asked if I had any toys, and I pulled one out of a drawer. She said, “I don’t think I’ll be using the community vibrator.” This made me laugh, partially because it was so accurate. Not cool, guys! Think!

Dick Trick:
When you meet a girl and start dating, they often say, “I’m not into games. Text me whenever you want, let’s just keep it real.” Girls who say they don’t want to play games are playing the best game of all. This phrase makes you drop your guard so you’re not on your game, and that way they read you a lot easier and can get more intel. It’s a trick that gives the chick the upper hand, and when that happens that early it’s just a ticking clock before she dumps you.

Dick Trick:
If you’re texting a girl after midnight, the fewer words, the better, because there’s absolutely no reason to text her unless you want a late-night booty call. Keep it simple. If her phone is buzzing, she knows what you mean. I usually go with something simple like, “Yo yo yo.” Simple, elegant, and to the point. Or the more direct “Where you at yo?” My angle is to talk like a rapper; it helps give me much-needed “edge” and “street cred.” Sometimes I add “where’s the po-po?” Girls love this. You can also try “You home homie?” (Inject humor, then inject ween.)

Chick Trick:
Ladies, relax with your birthday hype. I’m done with the whole “birthday week” thing. That is one thing I cannot stand. Don’t you get enough attention? After the age of nine, birthdays should naturally taper off on the excitement meter. But girls have a weird way of making birthdays a bigger and bigger deal as time goes on. Let me tell you a secret, ladies. Everyone hates your birthday week. Guys hate it because they don’t know what the fuck to do on your actual birthday, let alone on the real estate before and after that you’re also marking off to celebrate yourself. And other girls really hate it because the focus is on you consistently for seven days. Don’t you realize it’s hard enough for them to focus on you when you’re in a conversation with them when all they’re doing is waiting to talk about themselves again? And to be so self-centered that you expect these other selfish bitches to have laser focus on just you for a whole week, is really redonkulous. And if you’re ever wearing a tiara during this so-called birthday week, you need to get clocked in the head with a baseball bat by your mom. It’s embarrassing enough you’re barking out orders of where your brunch is going to be and what to wear to the pool party, and the don’t-forget-to-bring-me-a-present-every-day bullshit, and the pouty look you give your best friend when you realize she is wearing the same outfit on Monday that she did on Friday. Hey, she’s not going to shop for your birthday week and come out in different dresses for breakfast, lunch, and dinner like Carrie Underwood hosting the country music awards . . . FUCK YOU NO ONE CARES. Be more realistic. On your actual birthday night, try to get six bitches to sushi on time and not fight over the check for thirty minutes. Make them all pay for you and keep the tiara in your purse and you may keep your friends for an extra few months.
Birthday Week
should be a movie starring Kristen Wiig, not an actual thing you are desperately trying to organize for your life.

Chick Trick:
Ladies, I think it is funny how sometimes you program a guy’s number into your phone with a description instead of a name. That way, when a dude calls, you don’t have to think “Who’s Jeff?” You can just look down and see “Douchebag, from Boa” or “Poss Gay Bartender” or “Stamos-Lite” or “doesn’t wear condoms.” Guys do this, too, but it’s for craftier reasons. It’s usually in case his girlfriend sees his phone. Instead of Nicole, it might ring as “Joe’s Plumbing” or something else possibly work related to fool the wife. But when “Chico’s Lawn Service” calls eight times at 2
A
.
M
., they know what’s up.

Dick Trick:
I have two bathrooms in my master bedroom. It’s a house from the 1970s and during that time, they often built his-and-hers bathrooms, which is actually a blessing. The problem is I don’t use the hers very often, only women do. One time, an Australian girl I was dating accused me of cheating. She apparently brought her tricks across the ocean with her because she finally got me to confess. I found out later she knew I cheated because she took a photo of the inside of the shower and the way the shampoos and soaps were lined up when she was there. The next time she came around, they were out of place. She went ballistic. I don’t want CSI Melbourne on my case twenty-four hours a day so we had an amicable (horrible) split-up. Guys, if you have a chick bathroom, don’t keep any soap or shampoo in there at all. Make them bring their own and take it with them.

Chick Trick:
If you’re casually dating a guy, you can find out pretty easily if he’s married or has a girlfriend, other than you, around special occasions and holidays. Thanksgiving and Christmas really show his cards . . . birthdays, too . . . but the biggest bust of all is Valentine’s Day. I’ve heard girls say, “We’re going to go out the night before Valentine’s Day because he’s working late on the fourteenth.” Or, “It’s such a zoo at the restaurants he doesn’t want to deal with it so he’s going to take me out next weekend.”
Girls—these guys are married!
Or at the very least have a serious girlfriend. Don’t be the February 13th or 15th girl. Push hard for the 14th or you’re officially the designated side action.

Chick Trick:
Don’t tell a guy his dick is small, no matter what. Even if you both know it is. If you’re watching a porno with a guy, never say, “I don’t even like guys with big dicks,” because it immediately sounds like you think the guy you are talking to has a small dick. I’ve had girls really hammer it home to me, and then catch themselves. They start by saying, “Your dick is fine.” When they say “fine” I already know I want to tap out of this conversation.
Fine
is like the word
okay;
it’s a shoulder shrugger . . . it’s a C on a report card and no one gets excited about a C on a report card. (Unless you’re Nick Swardson.) This same girl just started blabbering and couldn’t stop: “I hate big dicks . . . they hurt . . . it’s sore down there for a week . . . I keep thinking about it all the time . . . it makes me scream a lot during sex . . . I tell all my friends about it . . . it never fits all the way in, it’s a hassle . . . I like yours. It doesn’t hurt, at all . . . there’s zero pain . . . my mind drifts off during sex . . . I try to figure out my week in my head . . . I never think about it after . . . it never crosses my mind . . . it goes all the way in easily, it’s perfect.” I say, “Oh that’s great, good for you.” I’m disappointed and know it’s a burn, but to guys sex is like doing laps in a pool—if you can go in there and touch the end and come back, we’re good, right? How much fucking extra do you need?

Chick Trick:
When you see a guy’s cock for the first time, any guy, I don’t care if it’s your uncle, make sure to make a big deal out of it. Make the guy feel good. When the pants come off, gaze upon the cock as if it is a diamond, nestled in black velvet at Zales jewelers. Pepper in some oohs and aahs to spice it up, add to the excitement. Say things like, “Oh my God!” or “Holy shit!” Get creative: “That thing is NOT going in me.” (I’ve never heard that.) Or, “Let me just stare at it for a while.” Or, “I wish we could make a dildo out of this, it’s so amazing.” Do not do what happens to me 97 percent of the time, which is that I whip it out with sort of a “ta-da” attitude and the chick just stares at it without making any expression at all. She might mumble in a slightly disappointed voice, “Okay, let’s do this.” The worst is when you can tell they really are let down, because they add, “You know what, why don’t you throw it in my ass while you’re at it. I always wanted to try it and this will be like a practice run in case I really do it someday. I just want to get a feel for it . . . YOLO, right?” And I say, “Yeah, cool. YOLO, I guess.” That one stings.

Chick Trick:
Don’t audition plans when a guy calls to ask you out. It’s bad enough when my guy friends do this to me. Me: “Want to hang out tonight?” Friend: “Why? What’s going on?” Me: “I don’t know, maybe eat some tacos, chill.” Friend: “Nah, I think I’m going to stay in.” Me: “Sorry, it’s not courtside to the Clippers game, you fucking asshole, then you’d be available, right?” Friend: “Exactly.” With girls it’s worse because they take it one step further, checking out the plan to see how Instagrammable it is. This is a new thing and it is very real. Me: “Hey, do you want to come with me to a gig in Albuquerque?” In their head, they’re thinking, “Flight on Southwest . . . no good pictures there/too embarrassing to post while sitting in coach . . . Then we will be in the lobby of the Holiday Inn Express hotel . . . no good snapshots there . . . Backstage at the Giggle Barn Comedy Club . . . me next to a plate of four Triscuits and a Slim Jim? . . . that’s weak.” She says, “No thanks, I’ll pass on that date.” Me: “Oh really? Well next week do you want to see the Rolling Stones in Hawaii? We’re taking a private jet.” For this one it is all “Pic of my feet up, me holding a piña colada . . . I like that . . . Photo out the window of the islands & hashtag it #almost there . . . good . . . Photo with Mick Jagger . . . ‘Look who ruined my selfie! Lol . . . ’#blessed.” “Yeah, that sounds good, I’ll go.”