I’ve discovered to my surprise and indeed amazement that the girl I shouted “FACEBOOK” at on Friday has added me and is a rather talkative young lady. This makes a pleasing change. I’ve therefore been lying on my bed drinking plenty of water and chatting to her for much of the day, as I don’t have the feeling in my legs to move. Paddy too is immobile, but unlucky for him he has no nice Chilean to arrange a date with. This I manage swiftly, and before I know it I’ve organised to meet the girl tomorrow night. The duck might well be broken. Paddy is secretly raging.
We’ve recently been laughing our heads off at an E-book that a friend of a friend of a friend has written. He’s basically scribbled a how-to dating guide with reference to using facebook as your weapon of choice. What he’s actually done is rip off every known strategy when it comes to picking up women and attributed it to the social network site. As a result you have a hilarious albeit unintentionally so work of staggering ineptness. I include a small example below:
“The highways and byways of the information superhighway”
“M is for MANAGE. You will be chasing multiple targets, DON’T get confused.”
And other such nonsense that I forget now but will add later. Written one would presume to fleece the total inaugurated, naive individual, so clueless with dating rituals they still douse their hair in brylcream and use a whole can of Lynx without showering. A fourteen year old boy for example. Or me at twenty.
For some reason then I’ve procured myself a date using the facebook method. Don’t speak to the girl the whole night, yell at her for her details, once (if) they’re add you then you’re at liberty to move in for the kill. Remember; you’ll be chasing multiple targets, don’t get confused. This is bound to happen to me and I’d send “you’ve got an amazing arse” to a friends mum. Not that I have friends mums on facebook, nor am I chasing them, but you get the idea. I wish I did have friends mums on facebook, because I reckon some of my friends mums would be pretty hot. I could just play the “sorry I’m drunk card” after I asked for dirty pictures.
What the hell am I talking about?! Right, back to the date. I’ve got one. Happy days. Next time you’re out trying to pull birds with no luck whatsoever, push one into a corner, scream “phone number” at her face and see what happens. Best dating advice I’ve ever given. It helps if you’ve just eaten fish, and don’t forget that can of Lynx.