Culture Jul 20 2017 / 2 Comments
by Jürg “Fed” Federer
In the third post in our exclusive new series “Le Dude”, Swiss provocateur and author Jürg “Fed” Federer discusses the dos and dont’s of the first date.
A smart woman once told me on our first date in Los Angeles: “When men play it smart, they get laid.” How right she was.
I have this friend in New York City: 34-year old startup millionaire from a good Persian family, handsome, and sharp as a knife. He lives in a 10,000 square foot loft overlooking Union Square. I met him when he was new to town and was looking to socialize. So he threw a party at his home and I was on the guest list. The dress code read “business casual, jacket required”. Dress codes – my biggest hang-up. So I threw on a pair worn in jeans, cuffs rolled up. Converse sneakers, no socks. An original Michael Jackson T-Shirt from the BAD tour, and a blue checked jacket on top. “Hey, jacket required…” I snapped at the doorman, who smiled only that one time all night. “I mean, have you ever been on Google campus? This is the new business casual”, I joked.
I stood between men in black and mad men, sipping Champagne and indulging in cheese and crackers. And then I saw this dude through the crowd: Red checked shirt, ripped jeans, Adidas sneakers. It was the host. Needless to say, we became fast friends, bonding over our penchant for underdressing. I started hanging out with this guy, getting an invite to every party he threw. Whenever I walked into the room he was clean shaven and soaked in Eau de Toilette. He wore his best dude shirt and denim that cost the same amount as a five-star suite. And he simply couldn’t wait to tell me everything about the date he invited for that night. He liked his girls blond, tall and skinny. I’ve seen many Russian women slip through his hands. But he never got a grip on any of them.
My friend confessed in private that this was the story of his entire past year. He hadn’t gotten laid in 365 consecutive days. So he asked for advice. Me, the dude from a village in Switzerland, giving advice to the well-traveled, good looking, smart Persian-American nouveau riche. I decided to give it a try.
I told him: “Girls don’t care about your credit card, dude. Your limitless carbon card promises a lot of security, zero money trouble, and an abundance of vacation time. It is a plus. But the massive loft overlooking Union Square is probably too intimidating for a girl from Vladivostok. Don’t put money first. Invite your next date to a burger joint, get some napkins dirty, spill Coke on your shirt and, if you need to boost your ego, you may still pay with your Black Amex”, I said. “It will put into perspective who you truly are: An insecure, young man who did some things right.” It’s ok to be insecure. Pets are insecure. Women love pets.
Then I wanted to know why he never invited any of these ladies back on a second date, why his encounters were always one-offs. “Because I don’t get laid”, he said – here we go. Basically with every day of my friend’s sex-free year passing by, he grew more and more desperate. And that’s exactly what would cost him day after day without bed-time. As his pants filled with two bowling balls, my friend’s whole attitude, everything he said, where he steered his eyes and what his body language suggested, was directing the lady down the bowling alley; where many little pins were waiting to be thrown over, if you know what I mean.
He commented on the bodies of his dates – no-fly zone. “Did you see her dimples when she smiles?” I asked. “And have you heard the tone of her voice? It’s smooth as velvet. Do not comment anything she doesn’t show you by choice. Stick to her mesmerizing personality, the big eyes, and her gorgeous hair. Everything below the neckline, save it for later.”
Then he used these memorized pick up lines he read up in Neil Strauss’ “The Game”. Dudes, if you ever read this book, unread it. The game has changed. A lady only wants to be picked up when she’s wearing $500 shoes and there’s a puddle in her way. Pick up lines work as well as a bus schedule in the Andes (read: not well). When she has both feet on the ground, speak with your mind and not with your downtherez.
“But how am I going to take her home?” He asked. “My friend”, I said, “trust me. Women actually want to have sex. If you don’t get laid, it’s just that they don’t want to have sex with you. Adjust your clock. You can’t take off in your jet without picking up speed on the runway. You pull that pilot’s side-stick too quick, you’ll crash. It’s a first date, after all.” Two weeks later my friend finally went bowling and all the tiny little pins were knocked down. My first date back in Los Angeles was right: “If you play it smart, you will get laid.”
Jürg “Fed” Federer is a Swiss author, provocateur and chef. He lives in Los Angeles and in Zurich. He has been written up in Cosmopolitan, Maxim, Time Out New York and many more. Fed is working as a copy writer, with offices in Zurich, New York and Los Angeles. He is currently under a three-book contract with MacGregor Literary and he will contribute to IMBOLDN with this column on living the life of a Dude every second week.
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