Why You Need To Grow (Huge) (Invisable) Made-For-Dating Balls

The (almost only) unfortunate fact about sex is that the only way to get better at it is to have more of it in the first place, yet the idea of propositioning a guy kind of makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth with sheer nerves and terror. There is no convenient game-based program you can hook up to your TV and play for an hour or two to gain more “Life Skills Sex Points” and hone your craft, like how you can play Mario Cart to practice acing your driver’s test. Instead, you have to find people who either like you enough to sleep with you, or are stupid enough to sleep with you. (Don’t hate—you know it’s true.)

Thus, I believe, dating was invented, along with the whole torturous process to go about procuring a date. Dating, of course, only came about as a way to wine and dine someone into submission so you could sleep with them. Once in awhile, you hear about or find yourself on one of those rare things called a “great date” in which conversation flows as freely as the liquor and you find yourself walking beside someone in the cool night air thinking, “I could totally put up with this person’s ridiculous quirks for like, a month or two.” But mostly, dating is about the sex.

Because of this, some people have evolved to the point where dating feels like a superfluous, out-dated notion; the last time I went on a bona-fide date was, umm…ah…well, last year? Needless to say, I’m not much of the dating type. In fact, you might say I’m a dating disaster. Dating and I just don’t seem to go hand-in-hand. I’m the kind of girl that actually fights a guy to go Dutch over the bill, can’t relax when he pays for all of it, and then gets flustered and accidentally opens the door for him while he stares at me and wonders why the wolf pack ever let me stray out of the forest. However, I am a huge proponent of the “let’s-just-stay-home-and-order-in-and-watch-a-movie-and-destroy-your-couch” method. That, I understand.

But more and more recently, I’ve been hearing more men say that they want women to be the ones asking them out and making the moves on them. I have a group of male friends who were all griping in their apartment one afternoon about the fact that more women don’t step up to take the pressure off and ask men out, and they should. I don’t know how I feel about this. The overwhelming argument is that the men have the penis—if you want to stick it in, you ask the girl out. On the flip side, if I really want to have sex with you, well, I’ll just have to grow an invisible set of my own balls and ask. But just let me state the way the formula has worked for years, even centuries: it’s the girls’ job to make it obvious that she’s interested in a guy, and from there it’s his job to actually say, “Hey, do you want to do something sometime?” (Hopefully, there’s a little more thought and clarity put into this statement in real life.) (For you guys, just a hint—there should be.)

This is not to say that there is anything wrong with empowered women asking men out. All the power to those girls who can just waltz up to some dude and say, “Hey, you’re cute; let’s grab a bite to eat and then fuck.” This is just to say that for all of my blunt, free-wheeling talking, I am still kind of old-fashioned at heart. I get heart palpitations at the thought of having to find you at some point when you’re not hanging out with all your buddies, and string coherent words together that somehow get the main point across of “please consider going somewhere with me for an evening so I don’t feel like a huge slut when I sleep with you that night.” I am slightly loathe to go into that territory. Mostly because I never seem to get able to get that point across. Instead, it comes out as something along the lines of “Hnnnnnghhhh…uhhhhn…didyouseethefinalscoreofthegameanddoyouwannacomeover?” I am ridiculously chicken-shit.

Just be ready to expect this, guys. Just like some of you don’t want to be the only ones putting yourself out on a limb when you’re jonesing for some spring-time lovin’, some girls are never going to be the type to say “you wanna go out sometime?” Your best bet in this case would be to start reading body language…we girls don’t just happen to make prolonged eye contact and flip our hair and touch you by accident. Unless she has a chronic neck spasm and no sense of personal boundaries, she likes you. There’s a beginning. Go from there, my horny college students. Happy hunting!

Although the author was born with the express purpose in life to write about love and sex, she would occasionally love some advice about what to personally lambast next. If you have a relationship conundrum or social issue you’d like to see her investigate in her own special way, email her with it. (Marriage proposals, spam, and misdirected emails will be deleted. Slavish praise and the phone numbers of hot men always appreciated. Laughter mandatory.)

XOXO