I Love Girls
It’s okay to worship women.
I’ve tried meeting girls everywhere. At coffee shops, the gym, the bus, the grocery store, restaurants, and even when they’re out with a guy. And every situation’s worked. Except one. I’ve never been able to even get a girl’s number, let alone have sex with her, when she’s out for a jog. Never. It works when she’s running on a treadmill at the gym, but never outside. It almost worked once when a girl stopped to talk for a little bit and to gawk at my handsome face, but she thought I was being insincere. At least this is the story I tell myself.
Yet I still do it. When I see a girl out running, all those past rejections fade away. I get sucked into her vortex, and I stop her to say something. Anything. Usually I put my hand up like I’m a traffic cop and say, “I couldn’t help but notice you running at me.” She looks at me like I’m crazy and keeps on running. But I’m going to keep doing it, because frankly, it’s not up to me at this point.
When I was in my late teens and early twenties, during the height of my “serious young man” phase, I prided myself in being unaffected by girls. And I was unaffected by them. When a girl liked me, I would call her a slut until she lost interest. I sensed the power that a girl could have in my life, and it freaked me out. Pretending like you’re above girls feels great at first because it gives you a hit of self-righteousness. But self-righteousness is about as sustainable as celibacy, especially in this case.
My sophomore year of college, I remember walking by the apartment building of a girl who liked me. I knew that I could go up to her room, say about 10 words, and then spend the night. But I never did. I had a huge crush on her, too, so the whole situation frightened the hell out me out. At this point in my life, I was only psychologically equipped to be with girls who I only saw as a body. I’d still be kicking myself about this if I hadn’t learned a valuable lesson.
I thought if I gave in to girls, and allowed myself to delight in them, be affected by them, and yes, even love them, I would lose my power. But the opposite is true. My love for girls is exactly what gives me my power. My love makes me relentless, maybe even aggressive. When I see a girl who has the look I like (two arms and maybe some hair), I feel a deep drive to get to know her. I have to get to know her—it’s one of my few compulsions. I may not like her, but at a certain point, she is supremely interesting to me. Sure, she’s probably dumber than I am, and probably not as interesting, but she does have boobs.
I’m sure I can come off as creepy. That’s fine. Becoming totally comfortable with creepiness—every guy’s worst nightmare—is incredibly freeing. It’s really no big deal, anyway. Some girls have issues so they’re going to think you’re creepy no matter what you do. And some girls even like when guys creep on them, as long as it’s done in the right way. At least this is a story I tell myself. Regardless, I’d rather be ostracized by a group of girls than be so afraid of neediness that I let a girl jog passed me as if I didn’t like sweaty and stanky vagina.
I’m not always as cool as I was when I was unaffected by girls. Now, I sometimes smile too much, and stare too much, and I may even get a boner just by talking to a girl. But being with a girl has never been more enjoyable for me. And being with me has never been more enjoyable for girls. As my shame has washed away, so has theirs. The more I’m comfortable with my sex drive, the more girls are comfortable with theirs. There is no trick or technique or line. When you love girls, girls love you. Even if this is a story you have to tell yourself, it still works pretty well.