Most guys who are having a hard time developing their game already feel intimidated and insecure approaching anyone of the female persuasion, even someone who doesn’t have perfect hair, a hypnotizing smile, and a body sculpted by Aphrodite herself. For such men, the mere thought of talking to a 9 or 10 isn’t even frightening; it’s just sheer lunacy.
Today, I thought we’d talk about “it”. You know, “the subject”. This is the ultimate measure of a man’s worth (no it isn’t), the single determining factor in whether he can sexually please a woman (hardly), and the final judge of his right to enjoy healthy self-esteem (oh please). As you can tell from the parenthetical snark, I don’t actually believe that dick size should be important to a guy’s image of himself, as I happen to know better.
Have you ever known the joys of dating a gamer girl? If you haven’t, don’t feel bad, as most guys are in that same boat. If you have, pat yourself on the back; you found yourself a rare one. That’s not to say that girls who play video games are true unicorns, never to be seen but in fantasy and legend, which would be a fallacious assertion indeed.
I’ve always said that if it exists, there’s a sexual fetish about it. I still believe that, but I think the issue goes a lot deeper than one simple sentence. Because as we all know, fetishes aren’t universal: I may have one that you think is interesting but just doesn’t work for you, and a third guy might not only not be into what I am, but he’d be totally grossed out by it. There’s probably no such thing as a fetish that applies to everyone.
If Chester Cheetah thought that being cheesy was the pits (whatever happened to that ad campaign, anyway?), he obviously hasn’t confronted dating problems from a geek’s perspective. It ain’t easy being nerdy, bro. I know whereof I speak; my Friday nights used to alternate between D&D gaming sessions with the guys and monthly Smash Brothers tourneys at a local arcade.
I admit, there have been times when I’ve broken down and done the sugar daddy thing. I say this as someone who has invested a considerable amount of time, effort, and emotional energy into learning the kind of pro “game” that could convince women to stop seeing me as a desperate, sweaty nerd and start considering me as a fun sexual partner, and even a boyfriend.
For many of my young nerd-kin struggling to put down the controller for awhile and learn a new kind of Game — the one in which “Didn’t Sleep Alone Last Night” is an unlockable achievement — hot girls are the holy grail. Don’t get me wrong, most geeks are happy to bed almost any female who weighs in south of 300 pounds, especially at first. But everyone wants those perfect specimens who were not born but emerged fully-grown from a beautiful woodland glade somewhere, the product of the hand of Gaia herself.
When I was a kid, I remember being superlatively confused whenever I would see movies and TV shows depicting a male character taking – or being interested in taking – panties from a woman he’d had sex with. Why, my naive mind wondered, would men want women’s clothes? Were they going to take the panties home and wear them themselves? And even if that was what they were planning, why steal the garments from their girlfriend? Wouldn’t department stores sell panties to male customers the same as they would to female ones?
When I was eighteen years old, I nervously, fearfully went to see my family doctor. I didn’t want to have this conversation, dear Q did I ever not want to, but my condition was severely affecting me, and I was worried that something might be really wrong with me. And it’s a good thing I gathered up the nerve, because I was in fact very sick and in need of professional attention. You see, I had small penis syndrome.
Is it just me, or do we have a freaking pill for everything? Have a headache? Pop a pill. Heartburn slowing you down? That’s a pill, son. Can’t seem to nod off? Take this and, hell, don’t call me in the morning, because those things are so effective you’ll probably still be asleep at that time.