A wise man once said “Treat her rough, get some muff”. When I heard this I immediately dismissed it as codswallop, but last night my skepticism was shattered by the events that transpired.

There is a bar near where I live called ‘Phil’s’. It is dark, dingy, and smells of feet and hockey equipment at the end of a day-long tournament. However, it has $1.75 drinks, so we go. I went with my buddy Nathan; my roommate and wingman extrodinaire Kevin; Virginia, my former lab partner, and her friends. It was partway into the night when I found myself beset by Kevin and Nathan shouting at me to go hit on this random girl in a pink shirt. I protested that I am not ‘that guy’, which they did their best to refute using the logical tools available to them (‘Yes you are!’).

While I was being verbally pummeled for my lack of will to bother random girls in bars, a group of ladies came up to talk to Nathan, having apparently met him some time before. To get my two harping buddies to leave me alone, I decided to undecoriously perform a suicide mission on one of the girls there so they would leave me alone. To compound the inevitable failure, I decided to be the biggest jerk I could possibly imitate. I made nothing but disparaging comments about her every statement, ridiculed her in front of her friends… I was theatrically rude.

Nothing in my many years of bar-going could prepare me for what happened next.

Far from being offended or discouraged from further conversation, this girl (who we shall call Cyndi) was intrigued by my ruthless and irreverent banter. The more I berated and disparaged her, the more interested she seemed. I’m pretty sure that if I had punched her she would have gone down on me.

I ask you people, what kind of sense does it make that being nice, courteous, complimentary and generally decent is a turn off? If I met a girl who upon meeting me immediately began talking shit, it would be SO OVER. Why should I have to pretend to be an asshole just to get the time of day and a dance?

The story doesn’t end as well as you might think: we spent a good portion of the evening grinding each other into oblivion on the dance floor, then her roomies (who were giving me some serious stink-eye) had to go home, so she left. I did get her number though… worship me for I am your god.