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For some reason, girls tend to gravitate toward guys who are really screwed up. Artists, musicians, carnival workers—they all get so much sex it’d make you sick.   

So if you’re just a nice, normal guy, you’re probably not having too much luck. Which doesn’t seem fair, really. I mean, you have just as much shame as anyone else, and you must have even more crippling sexual fears than the troubled performance artist who sleeps with women every twenty minutes.

The difference between your problems and those of the performance artist—whose contribution to the art world is covering himself with cow dung and singing Diana Ross covers in half time—is thus not one of degree, but one of visibility. His issues are simply more theatrical, more public, more compelling—some might argue—than yours.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t whip up some crazy habits that girls will (mis)interpret as the crying out of a tortured soul. Because believe me, I know you’re already complex and troubled, far more than you’d like to be, but with my help, you can make yourself seem as complex and troubled as the pussy-rich performance artist. And how girls see you is much more important than how you actually are.

Here are some can’t-miss ways to make yourself seem dark and mysterious:

Develop a serious drug addiction.

This will definitely trick girls into thinking you’re troubled. When they find you passed out beside a dirty syringe in the parking lot behind Linens ‘n Things, they’ll think, “My word, what a poor, haunted creature! So complex, so troubled! I must have him, sexually.” Little do they know, it’s all an act. Which isn’t to say that you won’t actually be killing yourself slowly with this drug, because you most certainly will.

Now when it comes time to kick the addiction, you may run into some problems, I’m not gonna lie. You might find it a little challenging to stop doing crack, or whatever else it is you’re doing. But just remember, you’re not actually addicted to the drug—no, drug addiction is a myth propagated by the US government to keep Zionist organizations from interfering with internecine conflict in burgeoning Latin-American communities—you’re just addicted to all the hot sex the drug is getting you.     

Splotch your clothes with paint.

Because all painters are tortured. Except housepainters, maybe.

This easy cosmetic change will make girls think you’re a haunted genius who works himself into such a frenzy in the artistic moment that he completely abandons all considerations of cleanliness and order. “When he gets that brush going,” they’ll say to themselves, “he must just totally lose himself, immerse himself in the dark chaos that surges within. I want that dark chaos in me, and I want it now!” To them, your calculatedly applied paint splotches will seem like the scars of a wild emotional battle you’ve been fighting all alone ever since you came into this God-forsaken world.

If a girl takes the bait and starts sleeping with you, however, she’s eventually going to want to see your paintings. You can hold her off for a little while by saying things like, “No, baby, they’re too dark, and I don’t want to scare you.” But sooner or later, she’s going to wonder where the hell all your paint splotches are really coming from. And that’s when you should tell her the painful truth—that is, the not-painful fake-truth—that you’ve burned all your paintings. “I find it extremely cathartic,” tell her. She probably won’t buy this, but who cares. You’ve already slept with her.

Laugh and cry at inappropriate times.

This is an easy one.

Just laugh at sad things and bawl at funny things. Women will think your emotional wiring is all messed up. They’ll see you as a broken creature, a poor soul for whom laughter and tears have become perversely commingled ever since you saw dad slap mom while you were watching Blazing Saddles.

She’ll spend a month or two trying to restore your psyche to its original harmony through blistering, inventive lovemaking. When she becomes tired of seeing you sob at dinner parties when someone makes a joke, or when she realizes it’s all a pitiful act, she’ll leave you forever and find her next man to save.

Lash out unexpectedly.

For example, when a girl says something innocuous to you, like, “Hey, what’s up?”—and it could be many months before a girl speaks to you, I know—respond, “Nothing! Nothing is up! Why does everyone always think something is up with me! God, I just want to be normal! I just want to… feel something, anything, again. So to answer your question, you heartless bitch”—and this is when you should really turn on the waterworks—“everything is up. Every goddamn thing in this miserable world!”

She will think she’s stumbled upon a beautiful spirit it is her duty to liberate from his prison of anger and paranoia. You will become her little pet project, her crusade, her cherished secret. And she will have lots of sex with you, too, more to heal you than to get pleasure for herself. Which is good, because she will get very little pleasure from your sex.

Pretend you hear voices that tell you to do bad things.

Adopt this rather extreme measure only if the others prove ineffectual. Because once you exhibit signs of schizophrenia, a girl may choose to forego having sex with you and instead have you committed. And once you’re in an institution, it can be very tricky to get out.

But if you’re convinced nothing else will work, then here’s how you should proceed. Sidle up to a girl on a bus or a subway—somewhere she won’t be able to make a quick instinctive exit before considering how disturbed and fascinating you are—and say something like, “No, Dennis Rodman!”—I usually pretend I hear Dennis Rodman’s voice in my head—“I will not touch that woman’s breast! Dennis, shut up! Shut up, Dennis! I don’t care how many rebounds you got, I’m not gonna do it! I’ll never be like you, Dennis, I’ll never let you win!” At this point you should touch the woman’s breast, to demonstrate that Dennis has indeed taken over.

And after the woman overcomes her initial disgust, which could take as long as three or four minutes, she’ll take pity on you. She’ll see you as a heartbreaking man who’s become a pawn within his own body. She’ll ask if you and Dennis would like to come back to her apartment, where she will offer to have sex with you as a form of therapy, or perhaps exorcism. “Who’s in control now?” she’ll ask you mid-coitus. “I think I am, but Dennis is menacing,” you’ll tell her, very nearly saying the words Dennis the Menace. “Oh no, he’s taking over!” you’ll say as you’re about to climax. “Get out! Get the hell out of my head, Dennis Rodman!” And she’ll be so horrified by seeing you fake-battle with your—truly—imaginary nemesis she won’t even notice that the sex only lasted forty-five seconds.  

And don’t worry, you have no reason to feel guilty for tricking girls into thinking there’s something deeply wrong with you. Because really, you’ve been as messed up as the lady-killer performance artist all along—you just weren’t getting any credit for it.

For some reason, girls tend to gravitate toward guys who are really screwed up. Artists, musicians, carnival workers—they all get so much sex it’d make you sick.   

So if you’re just a nice, normal guy, you’re probably not having too much luck. Which doesn’t seem fair, really. I mean, you have just as much shame as anyone else, and you must have even more crippling sexual fears than the troubled performance artist who sleeps with women every twenty minutes.

The difference between your problems and those of the performance artist—whose contribution to the art world is covering himself with cow dung and singing Diana Ross covers in half time—is thus not one of degree, but one of visibility. His issues are simply more theatrical, more public, more compelling—some might argue—than yours.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t whip up some crazy habits that girls will (mis)interpret as the crying out of a tortured soul. Because believe me, I know you’re already complex and troubled, far more than you’d like to be, but with my help, you can make yourself seem as complex and troubled as the pussy-rich performance artist. And how girls see you is much more important than how you actually are.

Here are some can’t-miss ways to make yourself seem dark and mysterious:

Develop a serious drug addiction.

This will definitely trick girls into thinking you’re troubled. When they find you passed out beside a dirty syringe in the parking lot behind Linens ‘n Things, they’ll think, “My word, what a poor, haunted creature! So complex, so troubled! I must have him, sexually.” Little do they know, it’s all an act. Which isn’t to say that you won’t actually be killing yourself slowly with this drug, because you most certainly will.

Now when it comes time to kick the addiction, you may run into some problems, I’m not gonna lie. You might find it a little challenging to stop doing crack, or whatever else it is you’re doing. But just remember, you’re not actually addicted to the drug—no, drug addiction is a myth propagated by the US government to keep Zionist organizations from interfering with internecine conflict in burgeoning Latin-American communities—you’re just addicted to all the hot sex the drug is getting you.     

Splotch your clothes with paint.

Because all painters are tortured. Except housepainters, maybe.

This easy cosmetic change will make girls think you’re a haunted genius who works himself into such a frenzy in the artistic moment that he completely abandons all considerations of cleanliness and order. “When he gets that brush going,” they’ll say to themselves, “he must just totally lose himself, immerse himself in the dark chaos that surges within. I want that dark chaos in me, and I want it now!” To them, your calculatedly applied paint splotches will seem like the scars of a wild emotional battle you’ve been fighting all alone ever since you came into this God-forsaken world.

If a girl takes the bait and starts sleeping with you, however, she’s eventually going to want to see your paintings. You can hold her off for a little while by saying things like, “No, baby, they’re too dark, and I don’t want to scare you.” But sooner or later, she’s going to wonder where the hell all your paint splotches are really coming from. And that’s when you should tell her the painful truth—that is, the not-painful fake-truth—that you’ve burned all your paintings. “I find it extremely cathartic,” tell her. She probably won’t buy this, but who cares. You’ve already slept with her.

Laugh and cry at inappropriate times.

This is an easy one.

Just laugh at sad things and bawl at funny things. Women will think your emotional wiring is all messed up. They’ll see you as a broken creature, a poor soul for whom laughter and tears have become perversely commingled ever since you saw dad slap mom while you were watching Blazing Saddles.

She’ll spend a month or two trying to restore your psyche to its original harmony through blistering, inventive lovemaking. When she becomes tired of seeing you sob at dinner parties when someone makes a joke, or when she realizes it’s all a pitiful act, she’ll leave you forever and find her next man to save.

Lash out unexpectedly.

For example, when a girl says something innocuous to you, like, “Hey, what’s up?”—and it could be many months before a girl speaks to you, I know—respond, “Nothing! Nothing is up! Why does everyone always think something is up with me! God, I just want to be normal! I just want to… feel something, anything, again. So to answer your question, you heartless bitch”—and this is when you should really turn on the waterworks—“everything is up. Every goddamn thing in this miserable world!”

She will think she’s stumbled upon a beautiful spirit it is her duty to liberate from his prison of anger and paranoia. You will become her little pet project, her crusade, her cherished secret. And she will have lots of sex with you, too, more to heal you than to get pleasure for herself. Which is good, because she will get very little pleasure from your sex.

Pretend you hear voices that tell you to do bad things.

Adopt this rather extreme measure only if the others prove ineffectual. Because once you exhibit signs of schizophrenia, a girl may choose to forego having sex with you and instead have you committed. And once you’re in an institution, it can be very tricky to get out.

But if you’re convinced nothing else will work, then here’s how you should proceed. Sidle up to a girl on a bus or a subway—somewhere she won’t be able to make a quick instinctive exit before considering how disturbed and fascinating you are—and say something like, “No, Dennis Rodman!”—I usually pretend I hear Dennis Rodman’s voice in my head—“I will not touch that woman’s breast! Dennis, shut up! Shut up, Dennis! I don’t care how many rebounds you got, I’m not gonna do it! I’ll never be like you, Dennis, I’ll never let you win!” At this point you should touch the woman’s breast, to demonstrate that Dennis has indeed taken over.

And after the woman overcomes her initial disgust, which could take as long as three or four minutes, she’ll take pity on you. She’ll see you as a heartbreaking man who’s become a pawn within his own body. She’ll ask if you and Dennis would like to come back to her apartment, where she will offer to have sex with you as a form of therapy, or perhaps exorcism. “Who’s in control now?” she’ll ask you mid-coitus. “I think I am, but Dennis is menacing,” you’ll tell her, very nearly saying the words Dennis the Menace. “Oh no, he’s taking over!” you’ll say as you’re about to climax. “Get out! Get the hell out of my head, Dennis Rodman!” And she’ll be so horrified by seeing you fake-battle with your—truly—imaginary nemesis she won’t even notice that the sex only lasted forty-five seconds.  

And don’t worry, you have no reason to feel guilty for tricking girls into thinking there’s something deeply wrong with you. Because really, you’ve been as messed up as the lady-killer performance artist all along—you just weren’t getting any credit for it.

John Wayne. Steve McQueen. Clint Eastwood. What do they all have in common? They’re all dead, except for Eastwood. What else do they have in common? They’re all film icons, except for Wayne, and arguably McQueen. Anything else in common? They’re all indisputable men’s men. The kind of men that boys want to become and girls want to become impregnated by.

How can you become a man’s man? The truth is, that’s an inane question, like asking how you can become a Korean-American. Men’s men are a breed, and you’re either born one or you’re not. Most of us are not.

But this doesn’t mean you can’t fool some unsuspecting girl into thinking you are. After all, you could probably trick some girl into thinking you’re Korean-American. Sure, you’d just have to blast obscene gangster rap from your souped-up Escalade, wrestle for years with a hopeless crush on a middle-aged Applebee’s waitress, and enroll in a two-year theatre program at the local community college. But I don’t mean to perpetuate crude stereotypes.

So follow these easy tips and you’ll seem sort of like a McQueen or a Wayne before you know it. Like a man’s man, I mean. Not dead.

Gain Fifteen Pounds of Fat

Because there’s no such thing as a fat homosexual.

When girls see your new gut, they’ll figure you got it from throwing back brewskies with the guys while watching a pay-per-view UFC match. They’ll see it as a sign of a man who lets no health or beauty concerns get in the way of his rugged lifestyle. They’ll have no idea that you painstakingly added those fifteen pounds by consuming an entire jar of Muscle Milk while watching a twelve-hour Project Runway marathon on Lifetime.

Girls don’t find it sexy when a guy is fat, necessarily, but they do find it sexy when a guy is comfortable with himself. And when they see your potbelly peeking out from behind your now undersized tee-shirt—and you should make sure to wear clothing that highlights your new curves—they’ll see you as a guy who’s comfortable in his own shoes, and they’ll want a slice. They’ll have no idea what a little overanxious, self-loathing mess you are.

Fart in Front of Women

This seems like bad advice, I know. The kind of prank advice a straight man would receive at the beginning of a sitcom, only to have it all blow up hilariously in his face at the end of the episode. I mean, you don’t even like it when you fart just in front of yourself, so why the hell would girls like it if you farted in front of them?     

Because it makes you seem like you don’t give a shit what they think about you. And really, that’s what girls want. They want a man who’s so satisfied with himself as a person that he won’t do anything—not even hold in a fart—to disrupt his natural state. “Did you hear that, Sally?” a girl will ask her friend. “That boy just farted. I think I’ll go ask him out on a date.”

And a technical note—make sure it’s a loud, purposeful, assertive fart. Because if it’s a silent one, you won’t seem like a rugged man’s man, you’ll just seem sad and disgusting. And don’t fart too often, for Christ’s sake, or they’ll think you have a stomach condition.

Tap Other Guys’ Privates in Front of Women

Again, this seems like terrible advice. But playfully touching other men’s genitals when girls are around is actually a great way to firmly establish your heterosexuality.

“Sally, did you see him touch that other boy’s penis like that?” the same girl will ask her friend. “God, he must be so secure with his sexuality. I reckon I could use a man like that. I bet he’s an absolute wizard in the bedroom.” Little does she know, you’re terrified of sex, and each tap of another guy’s junk sends waves of nausea and sexual confusion up your trembling spine.

Give Yourself a Nickname

Practically all men’s men have nicknames. John Wayne was “The Duke,” Steve McQueen was “Bandito,” Walt Whitman was the “Good Gray Poet.”

So pick a nickname for yourself, preferably something that evokes the sort of manliness you’re trying to seem to embody. Something like “The Virile Masculine Guy,” or “The Male Man,” or, perhaps less heavy-handedly, “Rod.”

And because you don’t want to be seen as a guy who has to give himself a nickname, you should try to make it seem as if the whole thing was someone else’s idea. So have a friend call you by the desired nickname in front of the girl you’re trying to impress, and pretend to resist it. “Come on, I’m not that virile,” you’ll protest disingenuously, “but I guess you and everyone else can keep calling me that if you really want to.”

And if you don’t have any friends to help you out, you can just create a fake Facebook account and use it to write on your own wall things like, “yo virile boy, sick party last nite. you were so virile, it like blew my mind. from, your korean-american buddy, gregory lin.” No girl would suspect that you and Gregory Lin were in fact one and the same. No girl would suspect that a person could be so pitiful as to create a Facebook account just to write on his own wall.

Surround Yourself with Guys Who Are Less Manly Than You

Now this might be difficult. You may have to search far and wide, checking every orphanage for malnourished preteens and every Urban Outfitters for metrosexuals within a fifty-mile radius.

But once you manage to collect a formidable crew of sissies, you’ll seem to an uninformed outsider, for the first time in your life, like an alpha male, a real masculine presence, a man’s man.

Of course, this method has its downsides. In order to contrast yourself with Urban Outfitters metrosexuals, you’ll need to spend lots of time with them, which might not be so much fun for you. And once out of the orphanage, your malnourished preteens will start to eat more food and better food, and they will soon surpass you in strength and masculinity. But this is only a temporary problem, because there are always more orphanages, and, thank God, always more malnourished preteens.            

So get to it, Rod. Girls fell in love with the characters Steve McQueen played onscreen, and now it’s your turn to make them fall in love with the character you’re playing in life, in your most challenging role yet—that of a real man.

Being super smart might be good for some things—like maybe, um, being able to do your own income taxes, or knowing the difference between Impressionism and Expressionism—but it’s not so hot for getting girls.

Because girls want a man who acts, a man who does, not a man who sits around thinking all the goddamn time.

But if you’re one of the unlucky few whose thoughts are often subtle or interesting, don’t despair. For I’ve come up with a handful of simple ways to trick women into thinking you’re an empty-headed fool. And with many women, seeming unintelligent is the next best thing to actually being unintelligent.

Go to a Tanning Salon

And really burn the hell out of your skin, too. Because the easiest way to seem less intelligent is to look less intelligent.

And when girls see how much you care about having a bronzed complexion—and how little you care about getting melanoma—they’ll think you’re an idiot for sure.

But don’t stop there. Because once a woman hears you say something, she’ll likely suspect that you’re a closet thinker. So you should overwhelm her with visual evidence to the contrary. And don’t worry about looking like a jerk—which you will—because it’s better to look like a superficial jerk who spends his time going to strip clubs and uploading amateur porn to the internet than a boring loser who spends his time reading books and having ideas.

Use styling gel. Lots of styling gel. Girls will be so alarmed by how slimy you look that they won’t even notice how smart the stuff coming out of your mouth sounds.

To complete the slimy image, you should deck yourself out in sports apparel—an extra-large jersey and baggy sweatpants should do—and wear a necklace whose pendant says your name in gaudy plastic letters.  

If you’d feel more comfortable appearing as a yokel than a slimeball, then you can just throw on some ratty suspenders and let a piece of wheat hang from your slobbery lips. I warn you, though, yokels aren’t as common as they used to be, so dressing up like this might make the woman you’re talking to wonder if something’s up.

Talk the Talk

What’s most likely going to expose you as a thinking man is the way you talk. The large-ish words you use, the slightly sophisticated topics you select, the fact that you sometimes actually seem interested in what you’re saying—all these are red flags that will send most women running for the hills. But if you make these slight adjustments, you can speak on any subject—no matter how much you may know about it, or how much it may interest you—while sounding as unknowledgeable and uninteresting as the guy of her dreams.

Stop using adverbs.

In this day and age, using adverbs is a stuffy affectation, like wearing a monocle or a bowler hat. So instead of saying, “The orchestra played really well,” say, “The orchestra played real good.” Instead of saying, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom really badly,” say, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom real bad.” Doing this will take the academic edge off your speech, which women can’t stand, and will fool them into thinking you’re a cool, laid-back meathead.

Replace all positive adjectives with “sick” and all negative adjectives with “gay.”

Because no woman wants to have sex with a dictionary. So just say, “Oh, man, that movie was so sick!” or, “Stagflation is real gay.” And sure, this may hamper your clarity of expression quite a bit, but who cares. You can still show off your vocabulary when you play Balderdash with your family at Thanksgiving, or when you write about your deep sexual fears in your leather-bound diary.

And change verb tenses at random.

This will give your conversation a disconcerting, ungrounded feel, which will excite women sexually. They may even assume you’re a dumb foreigner who’s still struggling to learn English, which will make them feel superior and, in consequence, highly aroused.

So let’s put these three little verbal tricks to the test. Here’s what you might sound like before using them:

“The struggle for gay rights is a really fascinating issue. When I think that one day a gay person might be able to enjoy the same rights that I do, it just makes me feel great. I can’t stand all those terrible people who try to impose their lifestyle on everyone else. Gay people are amazing, and by golly, they should be treated that way!”

This highfalutin—that is, moderately intelligent—rhetoric isn’t going to make any girls weak at the knees. As soon as they hear you say “really fascinating issue,” they’re going to wish they were somewhere else, anywhere that doesn’t sound so much like a classroom, even in a smelly barn, lying on their back beneath some overweight semi-literate named Butch.

Now let’s take your conversation down a few notches using our patented tricks:   

“The struggle for gay rights is a real sick issue. When I think that one day a gay person might be able to enjoy the same rights that I do, it just makes me feel sick. I can’t stand all those gay people who try to impose their lifestyle on everyone else. Gay people are sick, and by golly, they should be treated that way!”  

And while this may not exactly capture the meaning of the original, it does manage to make you sound like a straight-shooting, salt-of-the-earth man’s man who’s not going to let some high-flown language distract him from the real issues. And women get all hot and bothered for salt-of-the-earth straight-shooters, no matter how backward or repulsive to common sense their views may be. To a woman, nothing’s sexier than a man who’s not afraid to speak his mind. That is, as long as his mind has nothing complicated or smart-sounding in it.

Cover Your Mistakes

If you slip up and say something intelligent—and sooner or later, you’re bound to—what you should do is quickly attribute the offending idea to someone else and then disagree with it vehemently.

For example:

You:   I believe that children today are overdiagnosed and overmedicated.

You:  Or that’s what Jimmy Smits said, I mean. But if you ask me, I think it’s a load of shit.

Her:  Jimmy Smits really said that?

You:  Yeah. The guy’s a total nerd.

Her:  If he said that, then yeah, he is a total nerd. Now kiss me, you straight-shooter, you.

And you can blame all your good ideas on Jimmy Smits for a while, but eventually you’re going to want to find a new scapegoat, or she’ll get suspicious. “Jimmy Smits sure says an awful lot of dumbass things, doesn’t he?” she’ll say, wondering if just maybe you aren’t quite as dumb as you’d have her believe.

And Jimmy Smits, if you’re reading this, which you probably are, you can blame all your good ideas on me. And I don’t care what Richard Roeper says, you totally rocked the house in Star Wars: Episode III!  

So stop trying to impress girls with your wit and your brilliance—girls hate wit, and they can’t stand brilliance—and start trying to impress them with your newfound distaste for all things mental. After all, God put your brain on the inside for a reason—so no girl would ever have to see it.