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GQ SYNG

How not to be a complete schmuck

dick

From what I have previously discussed, you’re A-game should be selling the idea of adventure, looking sharp, chest hair and making the first impression on Venus. That said and done, how does one go about this with little or no experience?

Begin here. Take a brief moment and think about all the times you’ve driven a group of girls to the mall, picked up their clothes from the dry cleaners or even stayed up all night listening to them rattle away about how men are dogs.

Honestly, if you partake in any of those activities, my best bet is, you’ll always remain the friend – one of the girls, so to speak.

The first thing you need to do is tell yourself, “(put your name here), you’re not going to run after women”. Repeat this in your head a few times every day. This should kindle some confidence and ignite dormant male hormones. I know what you’re thinking:

But, by doing so, wouldn’t this eliminate all my chances with females? The answer is, ‘NO’.

Here’s why. Think about all the men that run after women – making them a trophy to be won. And, here you are with the couldn’t-care-less attitude making women curious and fuelling imaginations – become the trophy.

Next, how do you fix available-on-a-whim tag without losing friends? Simple. Become exclusive, stay busy or for the sake of conversation, the next time a girl calls you to fetch her lip-gloss, let her know you’re doing something important – stuck at work, flying a plane etc.

Get the picture? By doing so, you’ll no longer be “available” all the time. In other words, you’ll come of as exclusive – the kinds women lust for.

Lastly, become or stay mysterious in the eyes of women. You can do this by speaking less about yourself, giving generalized answers and turning the conversation back on Venus. The gift of gab work like a charm, so read more newspapers, magazines etc.

Remember, be exclusive, remain mysterious and avoid chasing girls – like a dog chasing its tail – and you’ll be the man girls can’t stop talking about with their friends.

Published originally on GQ.

Categories
GQ SYNG

High Flier Program

flight

As I snuggled my way into the economy seat of a Being 747, with a flask half-full of rum and my iPad in position for a theatrical odyssey, hoping to avoid any in-flight food and entertainment, a sexy crisp-cracker like voice on the overhead speakers of a Boeing 747 had me entranced.

It was the pilot – a female in her early 30s, and moments later, she handed over the mic to the co-pilot, another woman – although this one sounded like a girl I met at a bar in Berlin, who happened to work as a part-time belly dancer. I’m guessing this wasn’t her, although, that would be a fantasy most of us would fancy.

In a lech-like state, I pictured the first voice in garters, topped with a sexy short blue skirt, piercing white shirt littered with medals and hair tied neatly in a tight bun under a cap. And, the second voice in an electric yellow and pink Punjabi suit, with wavy hair down to her Angelina-Jolie-like bum. Think Katrina Kaif from Namaste London but with Sheila’s feline prowess.

It was only when Linda – a sexy flight steward – interrupted with a glass of Jack that I noticed the drool on my upper left shirt pocket. She knew this wasn’t the airplane food that had me in a dog-looking-for-bone state.

Around 3 am, two hours into the flight, and a few innocent glances later, I could see Linda step up to the lavatory door and press her comely body up against the door, biting her lip, big-Barbie-eyes fluttering, left hand combing her hair and the right slithering down from bust to hip in slow motion – showcasing her a body like the girls introducing a Chevy convertible on The Price Is Right, hosted by Bob Barker.

A heady clutter of thoughts ensued as I gathered my legs to follow Linda into the high-flier loyalty program. We began to work each other like clothes in a washing machine – nimble not to awake fellow passengers.

I kept thinking, Linda’s damn flexible – she had both legs wrapped around my neck, while her bum balanced on an inch of shelf. This is when I lost balance and ended our kinky jugglery by sandwiching Linda’s bum against the counter, dislocating a tap.

The sound of gushing water deafened my ears. As I regained consciousness from a sozzled slumber I could see Linda crouched over, dabbing my face with a wet towel. Apparently, I had one too many and zonked out two hours into the flight.

Published originally on GQ.

Categories
GQ SYNG

Girls To Avoid Vol 2

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I’m sure all the women out there, who’ve read the first of this 2-part series, will brandish me as the creep-who-generalizes-women in one egotistical-male-chauvinist induced confab. I couldn’t agree more. In fact, I’d say there’s truth down that road – where men are spectators to women playing dodge ball with their –ahem, cough *clearing throat- sack. In my defence, this literary trek levels the playing field for my brothers.

Foxy FOB
The Fresh-Of-The-Boat girl is a city slicker and sucker for designer label replicas. Although, her days in foreign were premature, her accent drivels your mind with vocabulary that blends English and Hindi in one extra large peanut-butter Oreo ice cream shake – a gulping feat for many. In the sartorial department, she’s a cross between Govinda and Lady Gaga – a pretty picture indeed, if you’re a cross dresser working at Barney’s Steak House. Although she’s an eyesore, you’d be surprised with her devil-may-care attitude and assertiveness. A piece of advice, keep your ears open and pivot quickly.

Bollywood Bebe
From a wardrobe that’s right of Kareena’s latest movie to pelvic thrusts, this girl’s got Bollywood covered better than Malika Arora’s legs. Oh, by the way, don’t tell her I said that. You’ll bump into this dame outside Salman’s bungalow in Bandra or at PVR, first day first show of (put name of Bollywood movie here). Her father will have a striking resemblance to Simran’s dad from DDLJ. And, don’t act surprised if she slips “I’m a bad girl, (put name of Bollywood actor)!” in bed. Ideally, this crescendo should end in a typical song and dance sequence, in a cotton field, with the both of you running apart in slow motion.

Virgin Vixen
Wipe that grin of your face, you’re no longer in school – and by being one you’re not going places. By and large, the Virgin is a mercenary of the almighty and society. Her favourite quote “mujhe bhagwan ke liye chod do” (please leave me for god). Join her and become Celibate Princess of No-Action Ville, leading an army of desperate nuns and fat chicks. You can kiss those fantasies goodbye – especially the one where you sport a birthday suit.

Facebook Fairy
As the name suggests, this is your gossipmonger, the mother of social networks i.e. faster than your Facebook status update. Even though women – by nature – are talkative beings (which is cute in a way), this girl is going to put you in an open source market – everyone will know your “pinky-swear” secrets. Don’t bother looking for Privacy setting on this Facebook page because even Zuckerberg doesn’t know where they are.

Published originally on GQ.