Something I’ve been thinking about lately, as I trudge through this dry spell, is at what point do I lower my standards? Or do they just gradually lower themselves as the horniness becomes too much to bear? I think the same thing goes for guys as for girls. We walk along, go to parties, check out who we find attractive, and hope they find us attractive, too. But what if they don’t? I used to have game but at this point, I just think it sort of disappeared. Sometimes you just have to know when to cut your losses.
Let’s follow a typical college night, from getting ready to the ultimate ending. Starting off, we all know that when we’re single and going to the bars around campus, we all have a secret (or not-so-secret) hope of getting laid. But unfortunately, us Sober Sallies don’t want to go home with the ugliest dude at the bar. Instead, we start off the night with some standards, knowing what characteristics our ideal guy should have.
But how many guys fitting your ideal description actually exist? Exactly, not too many. So to start off the night, my girlfriends and I fantasize about our ideal guys, saying, “Damn, I hope that real sexy guy is at the bar tonight. We’ll for sure hook up.”
We take two or three shots and head out. Pull up, and the douche bag bouncers at the door are forcing us to pay a cover charge. What kind of a place charges 8 girls $10 to get in? Ridiculous. We pay the douchebags, and we’re pissed, so we start chugging beer and miscellaneous mixed drinks as soon as we can get our hands on them.
Sexy guy from campus walks in, looking mildly drunk and as hot as ever. Stumble across the room, and try talking to the guy. This sexy, charming, clearly funny guy won’t even give you the time of day. He’ll talk to you for about 50 seconds, but the next girl who walks by gets the same treatment. Fine, take another shot and move on. I’m sure another guy will catch your eye.
You lock eyes with another guy standing across the room. He immediately comes over and asks to buy you a drink. Okay, step up from the last guy since he’s actually giving you the time of day, but he’s clearly less attractive. You get excited because this guy isn’t terrible looking and all that, but, shocker, he can’t hold a conversation. You are so bored with this guy, that you immediately come up with reasons to walk away, even though he just bought you a drink. Thankfully, the guy spills his drink and you sneak away.
You decide to find your girlfriends at this point, seeing as how you’ve been too busy hunting dick and lost them. On the way, you literally run into a guy and spill your drink. The nice drunken fellow offers to buy you a new one. Of course you allow it and walk over to the bar. This guy has you cracking up immediately. He’s hilarious and seems really interesting. The down side? He’s not much to look at. And by that I mean, he’s ugly. But he’s hysterical, so what to do? You decide after drinking what he just bought you that maybe he will become cuter. Already the standards are lowered.
As soon as you decide you would definitely hook up with this guy, his friends whisk him away saying that they’re leaving. Fuck, now you’re horny, and was so down to hook up with that ugly, funny guy.
This is when a guy wanders up to you, slurring his speech with something along the lines of, “You look like you could use some company, how bout a drink?” You say sure, as always, and he gets you a drink. No amount of drinks could make this guy attractive. But he can’t stop talking about how pretty you look with your mascara running down your face from being that wasted (and he means it).
Finally, he asks if you want to get out of here.
Shit, he’s ugly, he made me laugh once but by accident, and I would never want my friends to know about this. But I’m horny, should I just go? You decide, fudge it, let’s do it. Brown paper bag that stuff, take it from behind, who cares? It’s been too long.
As you’re walking out the door, the dude pukes everywhere. Everyone looks over and there’s even some on your favorite pair of heels. Now everyone knows you almost left with that ugly dude. At this moment your girls walk over to say, “WE’RE LEAVING.” To which you agree and walk home to your vibrator, who you casually named Logan.
A reminder: never lower your standards.