FRIEDMAN: Single Ladies

A wise person once said: “If you liked it, than you should have put a ring on it.”

I think it was Gandhi.

I like to think of myself as a professional dater. I’ve been on so many blind dates it makes my vision blurry just thinking about it. Now why do I put myself through this distressing process, you ask? Cause Gandhi told me to. And, I could totally use a good spooning sesh. So ladies, let me offer you some simple strategies on how to reel in a man—cause let’s face it, we’re all here to get our MRS. Degree. Am I right?!

To begin the hunt for your male counterpart, groom intensively. That means wax off those moustaches and sideburns (you know who you are, ladies). Now, look at your lady-region. Do it. It’s time to confront the facts: are you a Bush supporter? If you are, sorry but time to do some landscaping. Bush is out, Obama is in. Now, this is going to be painful, but trust me—it will be less painful than a life of celibacy.

Now, look in the mirror. Closer. You see those dark circles under your eyes? You see those HUGE pores? You see that massive, pulsing, totally noticeable pimple on the upper-left-side of your forehead? Yeah, we see it too. What man in his right mind is going to want that? Solution: get some male deceit. I mean, make-up.

Run to CVS. Now. Hurry, time is running out. Find some Cover Girl, and girl, you better hope that shizz covers. Glop on a whole bunch of product, so that the woman you look like now, looks nothing like the woman you looked like first thing this morning. Perfect. (But don’t forget girls, beauty is on the inside.)

To finalize your male-luring exterior, find the highest and most uncomfortable heels available. Are you looking like a hooker yet? ‘Atta girl. It’s almost time to head to TITS—the natural habitat for all respectable men.

But before entering this male watering hole, ask yourself this vital question: has your thirst been quenched? Of course not! So ladies, take a few chugs of that high quality Svedka in your freezer and hit the road.

You made it! You have arrived at TITS and the men are looking fine. In fact, I think I see a prince in shining Greek letters over there on your left. Do you see him? Yeah that’s right. The dude drinking from a pitcher (he must be in School of Management, cause that is bang for your buck.)

Scope the premises. Identify your male target. Now begin calculating your seduction strategy. And remember: bros before hoes. You are on a quest, single ladies: the quest for companionship. I don’t care if your chick-mate is head over a toilet seat from one diet coke and Bacardi too many—tonight is about finding Mr. Right.

Now, here’s the essential part: once you find him, do not play hard to get. I know what you’re thinking. This contradicts all of the wisdom women have been passing down for generations. But who is the professional dater here? Yeah, me… so listen up.

Start the conversation with a light subject. Ask him what he’s studying, what he wants to do when he graduates, and how many kids he wants to have. Then slip in how totally adorable your kids would look if he impregnated you—trust me, he’ll be flattered.

As you continue flirting, make sure to play with your hair incessantly, laugh loudly at all of his jokes, and most of all—keep touching his arm. Again. Now again. Okay, one more time. Perfect, now it’s totally clear you’re interested and he won’t get confused.

Now, this target of yours is going to start falling for you hard, but don’t get distracted. Your work here is not finished.  Remember to take it slow, because a man will scare easily. Stick to neutral subjects. Ask him about his classes, where he lives on campus, and how soon you can meet his mom and dad. (Mention meeting his parents no more than three times, otherwise you’ll look desperate.)

Finally, compliment his biceps, and give a feel. “I work out,” he’ll likely say, as he grins and chugs some beer. Girl, you are so in. What now? Give him your digits (waiting for him to ask is so Amish) and walk away. That’s right. Walk away.

Why? Because girl, you can’t do all the work. We gotta leave a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ to the imagination. But trust me, he’s going to call. He will. He totally will… I mean, he’d be a dog not to! And I’m pretty positive the dog days are over.

Although that my betches, is for another article.

Samantha Friedman is a senior at the College of Arts & Sciences and a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at samtf@bu.edu.