Let’s face it; you’re not getting any. In fact, you haven’t gotten any, and by the look of things (you in a bathrobe eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch at three in the afternoon), you’re not going to get any. And by any, I mean vaniga. Oh wait, I meant “vagina.” But you know who gets some? Classy guys. Think James Bond. Think Steve McQueen. Don’t think Kevin Smith. But how can you prove to a girl that you’re a cut above without being declared the Duke of Marmalade? Here are some subtle ways to become classy, my future-virginity-losing amigos.
- When someone talks about a film, always say that the book was much better. If someone ever questions this, such as stating “I didn’t know that Airplane was a book first,” scoff at them and say, “clearly you are not familiar with the works of T.S. Elliot.”
- Burn your copies of Penthouse. Replace them with Playboy.
- Two words: Wine. Bong.
- A real gentleman knows that you don’t excite a woman with your touch. You excite her with the many ways you don’t touch her: the knowing glances, the feel of each others breath, the taste of the used kleenex she left behind.
- Buy a smoking jacket, Shriner’s hat, pipe, and the Collected Works of Dickens. Throw them away and frame the receipt above your bed.
- 90% of the time women decide who they’re attracted to via pheromones. If you have a good looking friend, fashion yourself a cummerbund from a pair of his boxer shorts.
- Gold teeth, large platinum chains, and diamond pendants are gaudy and scream nouveau riche. Men with class wear refined hidden jewelry, like Patek Philippe watches and Mont Blanc cock rings.
- When she asks you what your favorite city is, don’t say New York, London, or Paris like so many pussies. Say a French word and claim it’s a small rustic village just outside of Versailles where you spent a summer writing a novel and performing brain surgery on cats. Then remove a single tattered photo of a cat from your wallet and cry out “Mittens! Mittens! Pourquoi la mort vous a réclamée?!”
- Graveyards are a great place to find free, slightly used tuxedos.
- Make sure you always have a non-expired magnum pack of “ribbed for her pleasure” condoms in the drawer of your nightstand. Make sure you never use them. James Bond never used a condom.
There. With any luck you will be swimming in an inordinate amount of ladies’ private parts with a manageable amount of sexually transmitted diseases. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some champagne in the microwave.
