Here's the Situation (10 page)

W
hen you bring your situation up to the level of The Situation, you just might find yourself in some sticky situations, whether it's a chick you've just smooshed or some hater who's jealous of the work you do. That's why you gotta have exit strategies.

When you bring a chick from the club back to your share house, things should progress quickly from there. It's the Jacuzzi, and then up to your private quarters for some pounding out. After you've done your work, you need your rest. But then what happens if the chick won't bounce? Or what happens if you're at her place and she has her claws dug into you?

Some chicks get all amped up after getting down with The Sitch—which is perfectly understandable. To ease her into La La Land, you may need to whisper a bedtime story into her ear to hasten the sandman and lay some lead on those lids. Here is one of my favorites:

Once as per a time in the forests of New Jersey there lived a Pappa Ab, a Mamma Ab, a Baby Ab, and three other abs. After crushing it all night in the club, they woke the next morning and blended their wake-up protein shakes, setting them in the refrigerator to cool. Then the six abs piled into their Escalade and rolled into the village to hit the gym, get some color, and pick up their dry cleaning. Soon after they left, a sloppy-drunk chick named Grenade-i-Locks, with strawberry Jell-O shot stains soaked down the front of her fugazi Prada blouse, stumbled into their crib. Grenade-i-Locks was basically a zoo creature who smelled food at the house. She was starving (she was always starving), and when she saw the feast the six abs were coordinating she began to scarf down all their shakes, nutritional supplements, and even threw their marinating chicken cutlets and surf and turf onto the grill. Then she fell asleep or whatever. The six abs came home and said, “Yo! This psycho bitch ate all our shit! Is she mindgaming us?!” So the six abs dragged Grenade-i-Locks outside by her extensions and stomped her ass until one of her fake tits popped out. Suddenly, they heard the wail of approaching sirens. And since most of the abs were on probation, they fled into the wilderness. The end.

Hopefully, at story's end, your one-night stand will be in deep REM, snoring like a buzzsaw. But, if the chick still won't go to sleep, here are some proven strategies that The Sitch has used to jettison a lingerer:

 

This strategy requires the use of your wingman. (Note: If you're famous, you may also consider using your road manager or another member of your entourage.) Have him call your cell—or better, knock on your door—and remind you that you have an early flight. This works best when your buddy can physically lurk in the doorway until the chick gathers her things and leaves with him. If you employ this tactic while staying in your share house down The Shore, watch out you don't run into her the next night at Karma. That is not going to go well.

 

When she's not looking, text a buddy to call your cell. Then, run this script:

If you don't care if you ever see a girl again, and you don't want her number, you can be very direct while still remaining polite. There's no benefit to being a jerk to a girl, regardless of the circumstances, so when you really want to give her the brush-off, the line is: “Listen, sweetheart. I had a great time. I'll Facebook you.” She'll know then that you're basically saying, “See you later, babe. But not really.”

 

Tell the girl that your little sister just got dumped by her boyfriend. She's hysterical and you need to go comfort her. Not only will this score you a fast exit (you are literally allowed to run from the building), but it will endear you in the eyes of the chick you're blowing off. This could lead to her telling her friends what a sweet guy you are, and down the road, you might be able to pound out one of them, too.

 

You also need to be prepared for the chick who, no matter what tactic you try, simply won't leave. That's not a fun situation. Your only play is to be very forward with her: “Listen, sweetheart, I had a lot of fun tonight. This wasn't a joke. Leave me your number and I promise I'll give you a ring tomorrow. But I've got to get some sleep and I need you to go home. Now.” She will find your honesty refreshing.

If you follow all my advice in this book and start creeping like a pro, you'll soon find yourself faced with going home with chicks in precariously unmanageable numbers. Part of the reason I find myself in these type situations is because I'm so polite. I just can't bear to say no to anyone who wants to party with The Sitch. Plus, I don't discriminate. Some days I like vanilla ice cream, some days I like chocolate, and some days I go for cookies 'n' cream. Deciding on just the right flavor can be the most difficult part of my day—or, I should say, night. That's why I like to invite everyone back to my crib in an effort to delay my last-minute decision, depending on my appetite.

Life is a battle, bro. It's survival of the fittest. And by fittest, I mean hottest.