Like many of you, I read “He’s Just Not That Into You” when it first came out. I was approximately 13 years old and it was full of gems helpful for any pubescent girl like “He’s just not that into you if he’s not having sex with you,” “He’s just not that into you if he only wants to see you when he’s drunk,” and “He’s just not that into you if he’s married.”
Regardless, I still took the general message seriously: guys absolutely, categorically must come to you, and if they don’t, they do not give a single fuck, and you’re maybe getting played. Getting played is my number one biggest fear in the whole world. I do not want some guy to think I’m desperate, or pathetic, or obsessed with him. So at a fairly young age, I developed a series of rules for myself with men.
- A guy must text me first three times before I text him first once.
He needs to know you’re interested, but he needs to be more interested and put in the effort.
- Don’t sleep with guys you like, only with guys you don’t like.
Counterintuitive, but the guys you don’t like are fine just to use for sex. It’s the guys you do like who you need to test out and see if they stick around.
- Have a roster.
You know what makes you cool? Seeming unavailable. You know what makes you seem unavailable? Actually being unavailable. While it sounds slutty, having a back-up bro actually makes you more desirable to both (or all) dudes, because you don’t need any of them.
- Never EVER tell them how you feel or GOD FORBID ask them how they feel.
The “what is this” conversation is the kiss of death. It will scare them away, and you do not want to be scary. You are the casual, cool girl, who doesn’t care what happens, which is how to make guys love you.
There was one time in my life when I didn’t closely follow these rules, and frankly, it was because I was drunk 60% of the time, and couldn’t remember what they were when my inhibitions were so low. That was college.
Those of you who read this website with any type of regularity probably at least vaguely know who I am. If you don’t, this is me:
I’m a chronically single 27-year-old (I know that’s like a thousand in sorority girl years), accidentally career-oriented gal. Not a smoke, but cute. Fun and flirty, at least in photos. And only slightly Facetuned.
And this…was me in college. About 25 pounds heavier, wasted, and for some reason, always dancing by myself.
College me was a fucking disaster. She looked terrible. She dressed like shit. And she was literally an insane person. Though most of her decisions were fueled by alcohol, she broke all the dating rules. She texted guys “come over” with like seven Rs, and invited them out with no hesitation. She slept with them too soon, drunkenly told them “I’d want to date you if I felt like dating anyone” and went on like two formal dates in two years, one of which was to a bagel shop, and I don’t even remember if he paid. And you know what…? She fucking pulled.
I won’t lie to you. I thought my behavior was crazy, even at the time. I woke up humiliated, like three times a week. But I also had a steady stream of guys in my life. And I don’t just mean my flavor of the week didn’t run for the hills. I mean I had options, a concept that is foreign to me now. And to be honest, even though I pestered them and got ratchet, and maybe a little bit thirsty, these guys liked me.
We spent mornings together with no rush out of the house. We got breakfast, and bullshitted with each other’s roommates, and they always drove me home themselves. We went to date functions with one another. We sent texts to say “this reminded me of you.” And we talked about life. And it wasn’t awkward when we ran into each other on the street. We were just a couple-a crazy kiddos partying and having regular sex. And while they weren’t long-lasting friendships, and certainly not serious relationships, I’d chill with any of them if I ran into them now.
And I think back on myself all the time. How is it that this drunk, chubby, psychopath had it all figured out, while the version of me with my shit together is struggling. How did she get guys to stick around, while I have trouble getting a third date? And I think it’s because, for better or for worse, she made it happen herself. He didn’t have to start out liking her, because her vagina was like a venus fly trap, and once they were in there, they couldn’t help but realize she was kind of cool. If she wanted to see a guy, she told them so and she didn’t give a fuck if that meant he “just wasn’t that into her.”.