Saturday, October 31, 2015

Critiquing Applicants - Part 5

It's that time once again, folks. We have several bold guys who think they have what it takes to become male strippers. Let's see if they meet the standards.

First off, let's start with a pic of Ash (shown on the left). That's not his real name, but we'll just call him that for the sake of brevity.

Ash works for some of the top male stripper agencies in the United States. Chances are that if you browsed through some of their websites, then you probably had stumbled across a few of his pictures.

He's a good example of what companies look for in male strippers. He has a well-proportioned, muscular physique, and his head shots (not shown) reveal a top-quality model. On top of all that, he's very well-mannered and professional, and knows how to treat customers accordingly.

Whenever a customer or male stripper applicant goes to a company's website, they will see a roster of men with physiques that rivals Ash's. The size and looks may vary, but they all have one thing in common: a good degree of muscularity, abs, good-looking face, and professionally taken photos.

With that being said, all adult entertainer websites advertise men of such caliber. That's the standard that they're looking in applicants---with some minor deviation here and there.

Without further ado, let's see how our new batch of applicants faired.

The traditional "S" pose of female models.

Male Stripper Applicant #14

Stage Name:  Mr. Fifty

Mr. Fifty didn't really provide a stage name, so I made one up for him. I chose that name because he is fifty-years old. I think the picture speaks for itself.

As you can see, Mr. Fifty chose his yard as the choice of backdrop for his professional photograph. Notice how he grasps the chain-link fence. The pile of leaves and the patch of dirt at the bottom of the stairs all add to the artistic value of the photo.

Our subject, Mr. Fifty, must have thought he had something to offer against the likes of Ash. Perhaps the industry has a lacking number of skinny, pasty, older men with the John Travolta hairstyle of the 80's, and Mr. Fifty would fill in that gap much to the delight of horny women everywhere.

You ladies want this?
That's a nice pose there, too, Mr. Fifty. Observe in the above pic how he thrusts his left hip out and raises the shoulder on the opposite side. This is a common pose in the modeling industry with FEMALE MODELS, also known as the "S" pose. Male models strike poses to show off their muscles, abs, their masculinity. Mr. Fifty apparently wants to show off how girly he can make his hips. I wonder if he sought inspiration from Vogue magazine.

The only thing left to wonder about is who took these pictures for him. Did the person taking the pictures know that Mr. Fifty was applying to become a male stripper? If so, wouldn't he or she suggest the low probability of that notion? I mean, you'd have to be a fake friend to say, "Yeah mate, you're totally going to get this job--those other guys on that website have no chance in hell against you!"

Final Verdict:  REJECTED

Here's an idea for a backdrop: Stack a mattress against the wall.

Male Stripper Applicant #15

Stage Name: J-Boner

Costumes: "Can get costumes immediately."

Experience: None.

Transportation: Yes.

Name, date-of-birth, and contact information provided.

Age: 21

Height: Approximately 6'00"

At first, the company agent thought this guy was joking, especially with the stage name, "J-Boner." But this guy was dead serious about getting a job.

I'll show off the abs, but hide the rest...
"A real classy guy," my agent said caustically. "If I tell them that I'm sending over a guy named J-Boner to their party, I'm sure they'll be swooning like Christian Grey himself is coming to strip."

J-Boner must not understand the concept of taking a good picture. You'd figure that an applicant would want to look his best before submitting an application to a company that hires based on looks. Or maybe this is J-Boner looking his best. I'd hate to see him on a bad day.

Where does this nuclear-powered boost of self-confidence come from? Maybe from J-Boner's abs, which he proudly shows off in the pic on the left.

That brings me to my next point.

Being a skinny guy with abs does not qualify you to become a male stripper. Many guys who fit this category apply with over-confidence, like their six-pack is their pride and joy. One of my agents had this saying: "In this industry, a skinny guy with a six-pack is like a fat chick with big tits--it doesn't count."

My agent also checks public records to see if the applicants have a criminal history. "The last thing I want is to hire some guy who has a history of violence, excessive drug charges, or stealing shit from people," he said. "These guys always cause problems and are huge liabilities for the company."

J-Boner also thought he'd make a good MMA fighter.
Even though J-Boner had no chance in hell at getting hired, my agent checked anyway out of sheer curiosity, stating, "Idiots who are this delusional usually break the law. It goes hand in hand. If he thinks he's God's gift to women when he clearly isn't, then he probably thinks he's above the law in many ways."

Sure enough, my agent found and sent me the picture on the right. "This was just one of MANY mugshots," he said.

I guess J-Boner was looking his best when he sent those other pics in.

Final Verdict: Rejected.

Male Stripper Applicant #16

Stage Name: Manlet (Not actually provided.)

Age: 22

Height: 5'02"
"I am 22 but Im what u need."

Manlet did not actually provide much information when applying beyond the required pics and proof of I.D., but he did write this message: "I am 22 but Im what u need."

Wow. That's a Kanye West-sized dose of narcissism there. With guys like Ash representing the company, this guy must have something extravagant to offer, right?

Let's take a look to the pic on the right.

For the benefit of you readers, I cropped out the bottom half of this photo. Just in case you were wondering, it showed Manlet with his boxers around his ankles, and his less-than-average-sized penis standing at full attention for the camera. Be glad that I spared you the sight.

He's like a mean little chihuahua.
Well, Ash and those other guys can just pack away their thongs and find work elsewhere because we got a new stud on the block. At 5 feet 2 inches tall, Manlet stands several inches shorter than your average female at your bachelorette party. Therefore, he's guaranteed to make any short girl feel taller and more confident about herself. He doesn't have much in the way of muscles, but he's definitely "what u need."

As if that's not enough, Manlet has quite the extensive arrest record, including his favorite recreational activities of burglaries, various narcotic violations, and miscellaneous assault/battery charges.

So ladies, if you're looking for some guy to steal your stuff, come to your party all fucked up, or beat your ass, this is the ideal candidate for you. Given his size, you and your party can probably take him, though.

Seriously, if you ladies ever wondered why scraggly and shady characters think they have a good shot with you, despite you being completely out of their league, then all you need to do is refer to this post about Manlet. He obviously considers himself on the level (or even above) that of Ash's, and exactly "what u need."

Final Verdict: Rejected. However, Manlet may find life in the prison system more to his liking.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

The Naked Butler

If you live in the U.K., then chances are that you've heard of "naked butlers." They are an entertainment service quite similar to male strippers. They wear a bow tie, cuffs, and apron to service parties and make them memorable, but they are not required to dance.

My friend, Imperial, works for such a company, and here's his take on a recent party:

The Set-up:
One Saturday night a few months ago in London, I was hired as a naked butler for a hen party. My job involves serving food and drinks and playing games with the girls...with most of my clothes off. My outfit consists of a collar, bow-tie and cuffs and a small pinney. That's it. My ass is on show.

A Naked Butler wearing a pinney.

The cocaine:
So I turned up at the house and was secretly lead upstairs to a bedroom by the maid of honor to get changed. I was to be a surprise for the bride who was totally unaware downstairs with the rest of her friends. Whilst I got changed the maid of honor starts cutting up lines of cocaine on a tray right in front of me. I wasn't sure what to make of this. She told me she wanted me to burst into the room downstairs to surprise the bride with the tray of coke in my hands and my bare ass blowing in the breeze. I wasn't sure if my agent would want me doing this but I figured if I did it might help me get a tip and besides, no one has to know. So I agreed to do it.

When I was finally ready, I carefully made my way down the stairs with the tray of coke in my hands. "Shit", I thought to myself, "What if I sneeze or trip? What if one of the hens lifts up my pinney while I'm holding the tray?" I was just outside the room now. The maid of honor opened the door for me and I burst into the room, "HAPPY HEN DAY!!" I shouted. The bride turned around totally surprised but thankfully she loved it. Then her eyes fell to the tray in my hands where she saw her name spelled out in lines of cocaine. A friend handed her a £10 note and she snorted away like a pro. 

The lady in red:
There were about 10 women there at the party and one in particular immediately caught me eye. I knew I wanted her. She had a sexy red dress, black hair and an exotic middle-eastern look about her. I was serving champagne now and as I poured her a glass I said softly to her almost whispering, "I looove what you're wearing." I then gave her my best, "I'm-gonna-eat-you face". She looked quite flabbergasted so I wasn't sure if she was creeped-out or not (LOL) so I continued pouring drinks for the rest of the hens.  

A short while later the bride asked me if I was single and what kind of girls I liked. I pointed to her sexy friend in the red. The bride immediately went over to the lady in red and told her what I just said. The sexy friend gasped in disbelief as if she was saying, "Me?? He likes me?? Really??" The bride then summoned me over and pushed the two of us together before leaving us to it.  I flirted with the lady in red making it unapologetically obvious that I liked her. I couldn't stay talking to her all night though so had to slip away topping up drinks and chatting with the other hens. I was there to work after all. I found out she was from Dubai and in town for 2 weeks and separated from her husband (who was based here in London).

Guess the bride's age:
At one point the bride pulled me aside and wanted me to guess her age. I didn't want to as I generally end up offending most women when I do this so I refused and told her why. She persisted though and told me to be honest and that she wouldn't be offended. I still refused. Then she persisted even more and wouldn't leave me the fuck alone! Shit, I thought. I better guess really low then just to be safe. She was Asian just like me (she was Vietnamese) so I knew she'd probably be a lot younger than she looked. To me honestly, I really thought she was well into her 50's, maybe even 60. She had a lot of make-up on so I figured she did it to hide her old age. I told her she looked 50. "Yeah, that's low enough. I'm playing it safe for sure" I thought. When I told her 50 she said, "50? I look 50? Really? Do I look 50?" I couldn't tell immediately but hoped to GOD she was happy with my answer. I was wrong. Dead wrong. "I'm 39" she said and even told me her date of birth. Holy shit. She was one day older than me then. She pretended to be OK about it and reminded me she wanted brutal honesty. She told a couple of the others what I said and they looked at me saying, "WTF? You're joking, right?" But to me she honestly did look 50. I figured cocaine must make you look old.

The boner:
So as the night went on we played games of which mostly involved physical contact with me. They were pretty risque games such as who can give the butler the best lap-dance. When it was the lady in red's turn she kept moving towards my lips like she was gonna kiss me. I'd reciprocate but like a tease she'd pull away every time. I was determined to make-out with her before the end of the night. Another game came along where the hens just randomly started twerking their asses right up against my crotch. When it came to the hens with tight dresses I got a little carried away; I was beginning to enjoy myself a little too much and my hands went wandering. They didn't mind though. I guess I'd given them enough champagne by now they were having a great time. The bride in particular though was really getting into the twerking which amazed me (I thought she was still upset with me about the age thing). She ended up giving me a boner. When the bride had finished she left me standing there with my boner in full view trying to burst out of my pinney like the chestburster in Alien. It was my first boner on the job and I felt quite proud. A couple of the other hens tittered to themselves pointing at my wood but I just shrugged it off like it was no big deal and carried on. 

Putting the moves on:
The party was winding-down now and it was nearing the end of my shift. Most of the hens had gone to another room now to do more coke so I was left in the lounge with just a couple others and the lady in red. She and I were just chatting, no one was paying attention to us. I stood close to her giving her solid hungry-eyes with my back to the other hens. I waited for a pause in the conversation and sneakily kissed her. This time she didn't pull away. Her kiss was as sweet as I had imagined. I was conscious I was still on the clock though (just about) and in front of the other hens so I told the lady in red to come with me upstairs to "help me get changed". 

We went up to the bedroom where my clothes were and she sat on the bed as she watched me change. I told her I'm usually really professional and she was the first hen I'd taken a number off let alone kiss (true). The bedroom door was closed now. I just had my jeans back on now and thought to myself, "Oh fuck this" and just lunged at her. We started making-out again and I pushed her back on the bed as I climbed on top of her. She was really getting into it. "I can't fuck her here!" I thought to myself, "its not even my house." Anyway after a while I stopped and continued getting dressed. As I went back downstairs with her just before saying my goodbyes to the others I suddenly pushed her up against the wall and started making-out with her again. This time I knew she was turned on because I could smell her wetness. But then we were suddenly interrupted when the living room door opened from the inside. And so we went into the lounge and I said my goodbyes and apologised to the maid of honor about getting the bride's age wrong. Needless to say I didn't get a tip but did get to make-out with a sexy girl and get her number.

My agent thanked me for doing the job but said he'd received a little complaint about the age thing. Ok, no biggie. The lady in red texted me a little but very quickly stopped replying after a while as I suspected she would. She probably didn't take me seriously as a potential date because of my job or was having a reconciliation with her estranged husband.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Party of Four

Excerpt from Chapter 23 of American Stripper

Part of Four

Most bachelorette parties average from between six to twelve girls. After working enough of them, I learned that fewer girls resulted in a more intimate performance due to absence of cliques and sub-groups. My smallest bachelorette party in college consisted of only four girls, and they amazed me by how far they were willing to go.

I showed up in my cop uniform, but it was more as a costume than for the act, because even the bride knew I was coming. As soon as I walked through the door, three girls surrounded me and ran their hands all over my body. The ambient lighting from a single dim lamp told me that they planned an erotic evening.

The bride cooed over my uniform. Her sister hovered in the background with a video camera on the night vision setting. A hipster with layered brown curls and black-framed glasses flanked my left, while her friend, a petite blonde pixie girl, took my right.

Instead of stripping out of my clothes like usual, the girls helped by pulling my shirt off and sliding my pants down, fondling my muscles in the meantime. The three girls pulled my thong down in unison.

“Wow,” the bride said. “Look at that.”

“Very nice,” the hipster girl agreed.

Under normal circumstances, I would’ve asked the camera girl to stop filming, but was greatly distracted by three girls taking turns fiddling with my cock. I just stood in the middle of that living room in a state of pleasant shock. Before I could thoroughly process the scene before me, the bride slipped her tongue past my lips.

This is wrong – she’s getting married, said a voice in the back of my mind. Before I could pull away to protest, I felt a moist sensation down below. I looked down and saw the hipster taking me into her warm mouth. The dark-skinned bride pushed her tongue further, smoothly.

I was vaguely aware of pixie girl rubbing my torso. “Are you having fun?” she purred.

“Mmm,” I moaned. I knew this should stop, at least with the bride, but my twenty-one-year-old body yearned for this thrilling, once-in-a-lifetime experience.

After a few minutes, the bride suggested that everyone give me a lap dance. The hipster retrieved a chair and set it down in the center of the living room. The bride’s sister circled around holding her camera, capturing all of the glorious moments, and I was enjoying myself too much to care whether this encounter ended up online.

I sat down in the chair and the bride straddled me, her black polyester pants rubbing against my erection. The fabric combined with her weight slightly chafed me, but she got up before it became too uncomfortable.

The pixie girl took her place. She lifted up her dress, revealing her shaven pussy. She squatted down over my right leg, and rubbed herself back and forth. Her stubble pricked me like a porcupine dragging itself along my leg, and her wetness did very little to ease the sandpaper feeling. I grasped her hips to redirect her elsewhere before my leg acquired a serious case of rug burn.

The pixie girl sensed my discomfort. “You don’t like my lap dance?” she asked in a hurt tone.

“Oh, I like it,” I lied. “I just wanted you to turn around so I could see your ass.”

She faced the other direction and bounced her rear end towards me. I gave it a playful slap, thinking that men pay good money at clubs for a lesser experience. She jiggled it for a few moments and bobbed it just mere inches from me. “I used to be a stripper, too,” she said.

I could tell.

Next came the hipster girl, fixing me with a ravishing stare. When she swung one leg over my lap and sat down, her thin underwear resting on my shaft, I knew what was coming next. Her hips rocked back and forth.

“I think Bethany really likes him,” the bride said.

“You go girl,” the pixie girl added. “Get you some of that dick.”

Bethany grabbed my hair and pressed her lips against mine, causing her friends to murmur in delight. I slid my thumb down towards her panties and began rubbing softly in a circular pattern. Her breathing became more audible.

“How about I get on top?” I suggested.

She nodded and got up, shooting the bride a questioning glance.

“Go for it,” the bride said.

“It’s your party, though…”

“I’ve been bad enough. You enjoy him.”

“If you don’t, I will,” the pixie girl added.

“One sec,” I said, standing up. The bride’s sister aimed her camera at me while I went to retrieve a condom out of police shirt pocket. I unwrapped the package, rolled the condom on, and kneeled in front of Bethany, who lay on the floor. This seemed too good to be true. “Is everyone okay with this?” I asked with uncertainty.

“Uh, duuuh!” the pixie girl said. “Give us a show!”

I bent over her, and slowly sank myself in, right there in front of her friends. Desire coursed through me as I pumped, and I was constantly aware of the others watching me, even as Bethany moaned and clutched my back firmly. I felt like I was on a porn set, especially with a camera aimed at me. A part of me felt uncomfortable with the recording, but lust had driven that inhibition to the back of my mind.

The pixie girl knelt down next to us and traced her hands along Bethany, pulling her top down and caressing her breasts. The added sensations caused Bethany to soon tense up. Her face contorted in concentration as she wrapped her legs tightly around me, and I buried myself deeply into her and held still until she relaxed.

Her friends cheered.

“Whew!” she said, looking up at the bride with a grin. “We should celebrate birthdays like this, too!”

“For sure!” the bride agreed.

Meanwhile, I asserted more force. When the pixie girl went behind me and massaged my balls, I quickly reached climax, feeling wave after wave pushing against the end of the condom.

After we extricated ourselves, I got up to throw away the condom. The show was over. No part of my regular male stripping routine could top that performance. I would need a wilder sex act to show these girls something different.

The girls planned to go out to the clubs and invited me along. I had to work at Jet Set, so I invited them there, but they politely declined. The pixie girl dated a bouncer there, and their relationship had ended poorly.

We talked as I got dressed. I learned that the bride and her sister were nurses, while the other two girls were attending nursing school. The bride’s soon-to-be-husband was a doctor. What would he do if he found out about this?

“So what are you going to do with the video?” I asked the bride’s sister, suddenly feeling concerned now that the sexual urge had dissipated.

“Hide it,” she said.

“No one will see it but us,” the bride said. “My man would kill me, and we’d risk our jobs if this video ever got out.

I often wondered later if they destroyed it, because that was some damning evidence to leave in a drawer. Surprisingly, I didn’t lose sleep over that video, but I was disappointed about not getting a copy. As for Bethany, we talked on the phone, but never hit it off due to a lack of common interests.

Friday, October 16, 2015

More Obstacles

Chapter 8 from American Stripper

Previous chapter: My First Bachelorette Party

Chapter 8: More Obstacles

French Addiction, 2003 - 2004

 I met with Janice at French Addiction and received the official word that I was hired. To mark the occasion, I filled out a tax form and cemented my status as an official employee. Now I could start doing private parties on my own.

The wall containing the store's selection of male strippers would soon have a picture frame containing my pictures, and women would be able to enter the store and select me from the roster. Except that Janice was out of picture frames.

At first, this seemed to be a minor setback. Walk-in customers would not be able to choose me, but customers over the phone could. Janice assured me that she planned to buy some new picture frames within a few days, so I relaxed and left everything in her hands.

That was a big mistake.

Several days passed, which trickled into a week, then two. No one called me for a show. I began to worry. I called Titus, asking if he’d had any gigs recently. He said that he had a couple since our bachelorette party. This news filled me with dismay. There were shows out there, just none for me.

I went back to French Addiction to check on the situation. A quick glance at the wall showed me that my pictures had not debuted yet. A girl, who later identified herself as “Brooke,” stood behind the counter flipping through a magazine. She stood at almost six feet, and her large bones gave her a sturdy appearance. She regarded me with a mixture of boredom and annoyance. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I'm just here to check about upcoming shows.”

“What are you talking about?” Brooke said.

“The shows for male dancers,” I said. “I want to see if there is any upcoming work for me.”

Brooke paused and looked confused. Then she looked at the picture frames of the male dancers on the wall. “You work here? I don’t see your picture on the wall.”

“Yeah, they’re back there somewhere behind the counter. There’s just no frames yet. I went along with Titus for training and just got hired.”

“Let me call her and check,” Brooke said, picking up the phone and walking away. Judging from the sneer on her face, I knew that Brooke did not believe me.

When Brooke finished her conversation with Janice, she gave me a dubious look. "Okay, Janice said you were hired, which I didn't know about. As far as having your picture on the wall, you just have to wait until Janice buys a picture frame.”

“Did she say when?” I asked.

“Do I look like I know?!” Brooke snapped.

I gritted my teeth. “Thanks for your help,” I said, and departed.

The longer my picture was absent, the longer I would miss out on potential work. I needed my pictures on that wall as soon as possible. Worse yet, Brooke unnerved me because she seemed eager to find a reason not to give me a show. I couldn’t quite describe why, but I had the feeling that she disliked me and wanted me to vanish.

As I was driving home, anger began to set in. It began as a small flicker, but soon burst into a smoldering inferno burning away at my passive nature. If I wanted anything done, I had to take matters into my own hands.

Instead of going home, I made a detour towards the store.


An hour later, I barged through the front door of French Addiction. Brooke’s eyes bulged at my sudden return.

“Hey Brooke!” I said aloud with a grin. “I got the picture frame. Now where did Janice keep the pictures I turned in?”

The dumbfounded look on Brooke's face gave me immense pleasure. She gingerly pointed to a shoe box next to the cash register. “Um, she keeps the pictures and all the applications there, but—”
I waved at Brooke with one hand and held on tight to the shoebox with the other. “It's all good! I work here now, and I'm just saving Janice some extra work.” I found my pictures, took them out, and placed them next to the picture frame.

 “These four pictures fit well enough,” I said. "Now I need some tape – never mind, I found it.” I organized the four pictures Holly took of me into the frame. Next, I grabbed a pair of scissors, a sheet of paper from the printer, and a permanent marker from the cash register. I cut a small rectangular strip from the paper and drew 'DION' on it in big, bold letters with the marker. I taped the strip of paper with my name onto the center of the collage of pictures. Once I was done with the frame, I walked over to the wall containing the picture frames of the other male dancers.

Brooke, sensing what I was about to do, raised one final objection. “I don't think Janice will approve…”

Ignoring Brooke, I hung up my picture in the center of the wall, just below Titus’s frame. Now, any customer entering the store looking for male strippers would notice it immediately.

I called Janice, and in front of Brooke, explained to that I bought a picture frame and hung my pictures on the wall. Janice thanked me for spending the money and asked how much she owed me.

“Don't worry about it,” I said, smiling. “Glad to help.”

When I got off the phone, Brooke gazed at me with pure malice in her eyes.

I beamed at her. “There. Problem solved! Janice knows about it, and we’re good to go. Take care!”

Brooke said nothing as I left the store.

The next day, I returned to French Addiction to confirm my picture was still on the wall. To my satisfaction, Brooke had left it undisturbed. Now I just had to sit back and wait for the customers.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

A 93-year-old's Bucket List

My agent booked me for a show last Sunday at noon. Very few strip shows are ever at noon. Most are in the evening before or after the girls go out to the clubs, not when people are leaving church.

My agent sent me this text: "Keep it clean." 

I soon discovered why. This show was for an old lady's 93rd birthday. Her name was Betty and she was born in 1922, when Warren G. Harding was president of the United States. She lived through the Great Depression, World War II, and the productions of Ford Model T's. She experienced many historical events throughout the last century... except seeing a male stripper.

One of the items on Betty's bucket list was to see a male stripper. According to her family, she has been trying for years. She tried to see Thunder From Down Under (Australian male revue act) when she was in Las Vegas, but the only person who would go with her was her 16-year-old great grand-daughter, and the venue did not allow minors entry.

Therefore, Betty's family arranged for me to strip during her birthday party.

I arrived in a police outfit, but Betty knew I was the stripper. "Just go ahead and take it off!" she said.

I stripped out of the uniform, and flexed a bicep in front of her. She grabbed the muscle, commenting, "I wish I saw more of these when I was younger."

My act only lasted ten minutes. Betty's family stood in the background and watched, which would've felt awkward for me if Betty wasn't having such a good time of it all. She hooted in delight as I swayed about in my underwear. I don't recall seeing many women getting so excited over a male stripper as Betty.

After my performance, I posed for a few pictures with her and the female members of her family. "I must say," Betty said, "that I don't think I ever had a birthday present this exciting in my whole life. Too bad we didn't have male strippers when I was younger!"

Everyone laughed, including me. 

I left the party feeling a high degree of job satisfaction--like I did a good deed for someone. 

Friday, October 9, 2015

Places to Meet Women (Especially if You Hate the Bar Scene)

In a response to my recent article on unattractive traits in men, a reader left me this comment:

Hi Dion. I like your article and I agree. But in my case I have to say that... well... i don't drink, i don't like alcohol, so when i'm in a party i'm just there with some friends, dance a bit but i don't feel it like that's my world. 

Since i was a teenager I've been always been the nice and correct guy, i can talk about many subjects, most of them are serious subjects, or stuff to think about, things like that. And of course that's not what a group of friends or new people I get to meet want to talk about (in a no party situation). Even my taste in music tend to fall in the quiet ones. So I always try to get fun but I just don't feel it. 

Do I want to date and be very extrovert with the girls? yes. I've tried? yes many times. The problem is that when I start doing it (being a funny guy) I feel like I'm betraying myself because i know i'm not like that and feel in my mind that the whole situation is ridiculous, that I lie to myself.

Some people use to say this to me: "you think too much" "you just want be different than the rest because you want to feel special". Trying to relate myself in that kind of social activities and that kind of people is so difficult to me and they must feel the same. I would like to hear your blunt opinion about it. 

And yes i'm a virgin, 32 years old (yeah I know), a lean body in good shape, not that handsome sadly (heads too big in proportion to the rest of my body and a natural "tired expression" in my face that doesn't look energetic or very manly at all), live alone, good job, and i'm not even a religious person. 

A friend told me to start behaving like a douchebag to get a girl. And of course I don't think that's the way to go. So again, your opinion or advice please, when you have the time of course. 


- Henry Edu.

Dion's response:

Hi, Henry. I can relate with your issues, since I shared a similar situation during my high school and early college years, some of which I wrote about in my male stripper memoir. As for getting a girl, I can provide you some limited advice.

First off, I don't know you, nor have I witnessed you in action, so I cannot really give a good critique on what you're doing wrong. However, judging from what you've said and what your friends have supposedly said about you, the statements like "you think too much" and "you want to feel special" may reflect upon a social shortcoming on your end. You mentioned that you have a difficult time relating others and their typical social activities.

That definitely presents an obstacle.

One important thing about socializing is relating to others. If you cannot do this, then you cannot break the ice and have others warm up to you. My initial impression is that you're really focused on your interests (serious subjects and such), but at the same time, you don't take much heed of others... at least on a genuine level. Hence, your inability to relate with them and their social activities.

The thing is. You don't have to relate with them, but you can take an open-minded attitude when conversing with them.

Everyone loves a good listener. Shove your interests into the background and focus on whoever you're talking to. Be genuine about it, like you're really trying to learn something new. You'll be surprised at how much people will talk to you when you cue them. Try to discover their hobbies and passions in life, and their conversations will come to life. The best part is that you won't even have to say much.

Also, forget about acting like something you're not. You can't be a gregarious comedian if that's not your personality. Some PUA (pick-up artist) tactics advocate acting cocky and funny, but this comes across as artificial, if not cringe-worthy, especially if you're trying too hard to find cocky and funny things to say in a casual conversation. And definitely don't act like a douche-bag, because people will just think you're an asshole, and no one likes hanging around an asshole.

Keep in mind that you don't have to limit your social interactions with drinking, partying, and clubs.

That's right. I'm not a fan of drinking, and I definitely dislike going to clubs and bars in my free time. Yet, I still meet plenty of women. In fact, I've met most of the women I dated outside of the partying lifestyle. I'll get to that in a minute, though.

The problem is that many people these days get hung up on the idea that clubs, bars, and parties are the only ways to mingle with singles. For some people, like yourself, these places are a waste of time. Even more so when the bar is full of men competing for a few girls. Social apps like Tinder can be just as frustrating.

Instead, try conventions or local clubs that cater to your hobbies. Or you can try cross-fit, marathons, or volunteer organizations. These places are great for socializing, and present many opportunities for meeting quality people who share your interests.

For example, I have a friend who joined a local cosplay guild, and he made plenty of friends and even dated a girl there. As for me, I met a girl at Dragoncon and soon got involved in a two-year relationship. I used to go to the rock-climbing wall at a local university, and met a lovely girl there. We partnered up in class one day, and really hit it off... You get the point. Find something that suits your personality and attend. You'll never know who you're going to meet.

Now you mentioned about not being "that handsome." Whether that's the case or not, you let each individual girl decide that. If you place yourself into a 5 out of 10 category, then girls will probably rate you as a 5 out of 10. If you have a tired look, practice "brightening" your look in the mirror. Then try to wear that energetic mask when you go out in public. I look tired sometimes, too, but I wash that look away as soon as I enter these bachelorette parties.

Most importantly, find happiness in yourself. At the end of the day, you should make yourself happy instead of relying on the the companionship of someone else. I've had my share of beautiful women, along with threesomes with beautiful women, and while these things are fun, they don't ultimately make me happy. Fulfilling goals and indulging passions do.

I hope this helps!