Work your day game. It'll be the key to your long term success with ladies. That's what I tell my friends, specifically my boy Rodney. [Ed: Names have been changed to protect the identities of perpetrators] "Day game" is a term defined as introducing yourself to females, flirting with them, partaking in meaningful conversation and playing the "nice guy." Because when your "night game" (read: drug-and-alcohol-induced mating period) is turned on, you become aggressive, rude and mean. Your night game does, however, allow you to dance. And at that hour, that's what's most important.
On a Royal Caribbean cruise ship during spring break, Rodney learned this principle first hand. After a night of dancing, drinking and cunting ("cunt hunting") for a foursome of ladies who just happened to attend a small Christian college in the Philly 'burbs, I thought Rodney had it in the bag (or double bag). Minutes later I found myself playing left-wing in the hot tub as the jets pleasured my prostate.
Of course, "Never Have I Ever" was first on the 174-degree hydraulic agenda. Given my vast number of experiences, I was the first man out. So I spent my time playfully touching the inner thigh of the curly-haired blonde next to me under the cover of bubbles. In the midst of this submerged flirtation, one girl dropped the bomb to end all bombs.
"Never have I ever kissed a boy." Not only were all of our appendages (fingers, toes and penises) stationary - we all went into shock.
I nearly drowned. This young lady, aged 21, was still carrying her oral virginity. Rodney perked up immediately, but thought her claim was some sort of a joke.
"Rodney will kiss you right now. Come on Rod, do it," I said. He leans in on the blonde: "It looks like the stars are aligning for us tonight." - Rodney only spits lines like that when he's ten beers deep.
But she won't have it. She just laughs and politely declines. Eventually everyone departs said hot tub and goes home. Alone.
For the next 48 hours, Rodney doesn't relent. He spits day game upon day game upon day game. Knowing that these females attend school less than an hour from our West Philadelphia home, he realizes the importance of making this virgin his very own... Rodney wasn't a quitter. I don't roll with quitters. The man cultivated his relationships and leaned in for the smooch on numerous occasions. On board the ship, it never happened. But, with two friends' birthdays and St. Patrick's day only a week away, it was not going to be difficult to convince a couple of country girls (read: suburban Christians) to come to the Jewish ghetto of West Philadelphia for some weekend shinnanigans. Plus, these girls were completely unfamiliar with the practice of get 'em drunk and hook 'em up. They were too busy in confessional to completely grasp what happened when two of them accepted Rodney's offer to come to town. But Rodney was only after one: His Queen of the Nile, we'll call her Cleopatra. Fast forward three days. It was Friday night and the snow was white. These bumpkins were incapable of hailing a cab at 30th Street (after they'd missed two trains) so Rodney was sent to fetch them. There he was, savior to the stars. And finally, they arrived at the Bright Green House. It was 10:11 PM, but we usually don't start our pre-game until some time after 11. Tonight was different from other nights. An equal number of males and females were rounded up, and an intense game of flip-cup ensued. These girls were novices, but Catholics tend to be better than Jews at all athletic events, so before long they were dominating the table. I didn't partake in these Beerlympics, because I tend to be a slow showerer. But whatever Rodney was doing, even without my staid advice, he was not about to strike out this evening. As our house started to fill up with the typical crowd of Asians, JAPs, and all other classic Penn types, Cleopatra and awkwardly tall/skinny Catholic friend tripped over their own heels a baker's dozen times each. And as the soothing music of Akon warmed the room, Rodney acted out each of the master's lyrics, well, masterfully:
Grab you by your coattail, take you to the motel, ho sale Don't tell, wont tell, baby say "I don't talk, Dogg unless you told on me" - oh well Take a picture wit me, what the flick gon' do Baby stick to me and I'ma stick on you If you pick me then I'ma pick on you d-o-double g and I'm here to put this d*** on you
To be continued.
