It’s that time of the year again. No, not Black History Month, though props to my dogs. It’s that time of year when it seems like everyone you know is either: a) in a relationship with a human b) in a relationship with a cat c) in a relationship with their hand But with Valentine’s Day finally behind us, everyone seemed to be able to put aside their differences and focus on one thing and one thing only: SEX. Fornication, coitus, nooky, whoopee, boinking, taking a roll in the hay. Whatever you call it, it’s probably disgusting. I’m gonna go ahead and assume that you, like most of Northwestern’s population, fell into the third category. Fear not, peasant! As always, I am here to help in times of crisis. Stick to my rules and in no time your dick will be sure to be worming it’s way inside many a skank. Go See The Vow With Your Bros Seriously. Seriously. The theater will be chock full of weepy girls, wondering why someone as mumbly and chiseled as Channing Tatum isn’t in their lives to remind them why they continue to live. Enter: you! You sweep in with a box of tissues and a previously thought out (and scrawled on your hand) comment about how you wish you could take care of a woman like he did, and BAM. Instant girl hard on. As you two are writhing around in your bed that night, try and squeeze out a single tear for extra ‘sensitive guy’ emphasis. When you inevitably run into her at Plex the next week, she won’t blink twice when you tell her that you’re just “in a dark place” and “don’t know if you could be there, emotionally, for her right now.” There is a 95% chance your faux chivalry will cause her to faint, and with a final goodbye kiss on the forehead, you’ll never have to talk to the clingy bitch again. Offer To Carry Her Books I know what you’re thinking. “Books!? More lyke ipad! Srsly! Wut is dis, 2002?! LOL!” But you’re wrong, and not just because you literally are thinking in abbreviations (I hope you’re happy with how your life is going, dickface). Carrying books is the key to a girl’s heart, unless we’re talking a Saw trap and then maybe the key is an actual key and it’s buried in her intestines and you have to dig it out with a spork in order to…but I digress. Books are quite manageable, and can easily be carried by a girl, but “it’s the thought that counts” or some shit. What you see as a tiny pebble tossed into a pond, she will see as a massive boulder dropped into the fountain of your love. CHICKS DIG SMALL GESTURES IN CASE YOU HAVEN’T GOTTEN MY POINT YET. Even though this literally is no extra effort on your part (let’s be real, you like how veiny your arms look when you’re carrying extra weight anyways), she will be yours for the taking. But a word to the wise: never offer to carry a feminist’s books, unless you want a 20 minute lecture on Planned Parenthood and the aforementioned spork through your hand. (Feminism is another word for heinous bitch, right?) Be Asian From my perch in the library, I spy three asian couples, two of which are making out or at least whispering with their faces touching. The third is naked which also feels mentionable. Maybe it’s the parental pressures to settle down by graduation, maybe they’re just really fucking horny, but everywhere I look I see asians paired off. Asian couples are somehow even worse than regular mushy couples, because nothing is more nauseating than two people feeding each other Joy Yee’s with ‘his’ and ‘hers’ chopsticks (Side note: This is not racist, one of my best friends is Korean and she loves Joy Yee’s). TL;DR: Become Asian, spit mad unavoidable game, get laid. If none of these work for you, I suggest getting piss-ass drunk to ease the pain. My Forever Alone Post-V-Day drinking game (they call them ‘solo’ cups for a reason, you know) can get you started: Step 1: Stick a Dasani label on a bottle of Svedka Step 2: Set up camp in Norris Step 3: Drink whenever you see: -Girl wearing red or pink: 1 drink -Group of girls planning what movies they are going to watch tonight while they eat cookies and cry sporadically: 1 drink -Couple breaking up: 2 drinks -Clearly unhappy couple trying to make it through the rest of the week before breaking up: 3 drinks -Girl buying a remaining box of candy in the c-store: 2 drinks -The lucky asshole who won and is smugly toting around that 5 lb Hershey bar from Norris: pass the bottle around the table until it’s gone (jk you’re sitting alone, finish that shit yourself!) Feel better yet? You will soon. Until tomorrow morning when you wake up hungover and covered in the vomit of 5 pounds of chocolatey (once) goodness. Good day, and good luck! -Parrty Cat
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