Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and I make the ladies sweat. That’s why the Voice begged me to write this article. What, the editors wondered, can we find out about “the life of love” from the hottest thing to hit the Georgetown campus since Tabasco and Jesuits? Plenty, I say. Plenty.
For starters, let me dispel a nasty little myth: The general public thinks that it would be just pie-in-the-sky swell to be-as I am-a 100 percent flawless specimen of human physical development. The general public does not know what it is talking about. Most people are really quite ugly and therefore hardly in a position to be making judgements about the difficulty of being me, that is, the difficulty of being beautiful. It’s not easy being sexy.
Though I do occassionally tire of receiving love telegrams addressed to one or both of my tight buns, there certainly are a number of “advantages” to being me. Do you get my meaning? Or am I being coy? Let me put it this way: I have a lot of girlfriends. How many, you ask? A conservative guess would be just a shade over three billion. Does the exact number matter? No. The point is that I have a lot.
My V-Day mate-finding tips are intended for both boys and girls. So everybody listen up to tip number one: Get sassy. Trust me, this works. I am credited with having the highest sass-factor of any male on this campus, and it pays off.
What, exactly, is sass? Think New York. Think Paris. Think Cosmo. Here is an example:
Potential mate: Hey there, what are you doing this weekend?
Unsassy response: I don’t know. Maybe we should do something.
Sassified, Andrew J.-approved response: I don’t know, but from the love-starved looks of you, we’d better get dank as soon as possible. Snap!
Perhaps this all seems a bit unorthodox, but do yourself a favor and take it from Master Sass: We’re talking solid gold.
What? What’s that you say? I think I heard somebody say “Andrew J., I’ve never even seen you on this campus! How can you expect me to believe these claims about your sass-factor?” Honey, get on the train. The reason you ain’t never seen this piece is because I’m always and forever covered with ladies.
Tip number two: Don’t sell yourself short. Being sexy isn’t only about having a hot bod and sass; it’s also about seeing opportunity where others do not. I don’t know the meaning of the phrase “out of my league.” I play in my own league, baby, and every day is draft day. As I hinted above, I consider every female on earth to be my girlfriend, even if we’ve never met, even if I’ve never even heard of her country. This way, whenever it’s time for me to work my magic with a new lady, I can talk to her as if we’re old flames and avoid the time-consuming process of, as timid and unsexy men put it, “getting to know” her.
But do not be fooled into thinking that confidence is all you need. Obviously, you also need a hot bod. I was born with abs like corrugated sheet metal and pectorals that could flip pancakes, but I understand that not everyone can win the genetic lottery. So what’s the answer?
My third tip: Put some meat on those bones. There’s nothing God started that I can’t finish, and for this reason I attach the utmost importance to the perfection of my physical gifts. I spend eight to nine hours a day lifting weights. I eat steaks marinated in egg yolks. You know the guy who’s always doing push-ups in the aisle during Mass? That’s me. I need at least fifteen minutes to pack my biceps into my shirt-sleeves every morning, and my clothes tear if I move too quickly. I am huge, and that is why I am beloved. Get it? You want to be as much like me as possible. So get your wobbly self down to the gym and step on it.
My final tip: Focus on the positive. Some people say that when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade. I say that when your date sets herself on fire, you should drag her to the floor, smother her with your body and have a good roll about the carpet. Then make lemonade, but only because it’s sassy. Success is in the eye of the beholder, and I have 47 dates this weekend. Coincidence? I think not.
Andrew J. Wilson is a junior in the College. Hide your daughters.
