What's With The Pussyman Thing?
It's a modern pussyman tradition -- men giving women their number on crumpled up bits of paper and waiting home, hoping to be called.
Many of us would never had been born, I'm guessing, if our fathers had done this.
What happened, have all the men been infected (and misled) by feminism?
"I'd managed to foist my phone number on her," said the guy in the LA Times dating piece:
We talked well past the end of the performance that night, and by the time the coffeehouse closed, I'd managed to foist my phone number on her.
"I have a really special feeling about this," I told her as we said goodbye. I didn't want to say love, because we'd only just met and I didn't want to scare her off.
"Me, too," she said, eyes sparkling, before walking toward her car.
But she didn't call.
He went back to the same event a year later, and:
This time, the performance took place at a café cum jazz club, again in Fullerton. To make sure the stage was clear for the band that night, the Vampiric Bards had been relegated to an afternoon show, so hardly anyone came. In fact, other than me, there was only one audience member.
"Hi," I said to the beautiful woman, who wore a top of spider-web lace. My heart racing, I tried to sound nonchalant. "Your name's Kelly, isn't it...?"
It was. She revealed that she'd been finalizing a divorce when we'd first met, and that by the time it was over, she'd lost my phone number. She'd come to this Halloween show hoping to find me.
A Hollywood ending, truly. But is the movie a contrived, sappy rom-com or a passionate Gothic where star-crossed souls are brought together through supernatural serendipity?
Who cares? Dracula himself could hardly have planned it better. Kelly and I started dating immediately and married soon after.
As I wrote in my column:
Giving a woman your number and expecting her to call you is like the lion saying to the gazelle, "Would you mind coming over here and killing yourself, and then I'll eat you?"
As I wrote in "Good Manners for Nice People Who Sometimes Say F*ck":
Men should ask women out in a way that gets them as firmly and unambiguously rejected as possible, if that's what's ultimately in the cards.
Technology has allowed men to resort to wussy hit-and-run ways of asking women out: leaving messages on their voicemail, e-mailing them, and texting them. If you're a man using these methods and you don't hear back, you don't know whether you've been dissed or whether your message got deleted, your text went to the wrong number, or your e-mail went to her spam folder. You should instead get on the phone with a woman and ask her out. This lets you know where you stand--or don't--which means you'll know to move on to the next woman instead of mooning and wondering endlessly and ultimately seething with resentment.