The Guy Legendary With Girls.

by Myke Macapinlac

“Yo man, this guy is legendary with girls!” my bestfriend complimented me, as I was being introduced.

It’s Friday night so we thought we’d get down and hit up our favorite watering hole.

“Oh shit, for real?” says the other guy.

“Hey man, nice to meet you!” I said as we shook hands.

The other guy has a big grin on his face and looks really impressed. He thinks I’m some sort of rock star pussy magnet and buys me a drink.

“Two double vodka sodas and whatever he wants.” he says to the bartender.

“Fuck my life..” I whispered under my breath as I sipped on my free drink.

The whole night, as we floundered around the bar, I barely approached and talked to any any girls. I just wanted to look cool and suave, kinda like James Bond. I dished out a lot of excuses. “Nah man, she’s too thick.” “She’s not really my type bro.” “Yo man, she’s too tall.” “She looks like a man, dude.” and other bullshit excuses. I didn’t want to get blown out because I had to play the role of “the guy legendary with girls”

Clearly, they’re smooth and don’t get rejected, like James Bond.

Mind you, my best friend’s compliment was paved with good intentions. It was meant to be harmless. He didn’t know that when he complimented my skill, or lack of it at that point, it actually stunned me. I didn’t want to take action. I didn’t want to look bad. At a moment’s notice, I had to become a legendary-pimp-guy that’s apparently good with girls. I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes. I felt the need to live up to the label and I had to protect my identity. My big ego got in the way of a good night.

I obviously go out to have fun and meet other people. I don’t know about you, but buying a girl a drink isn’t really my style. I don’t wanna pay for over priced bottle service. I don’t pretend to be a VIP. I don’t wear sunglasses in the club and I can’t afford a Louis Vuitton man purse to sling across my chest. I figured dabbing a piece of cloth with choloroform, or dropping a funky pill in their drink isn’t the most ethical thing to do. So my last resort is to go up and talk to them. Here and there I get lucky but I know I could do better. That night, I was there to learn, practice and get rejected.

Woah, woah, woah! Hold on bro!

Legendary-pimp-guys don’t need to practice remember? Fuck. So yes, once again, I ended up drinking myself over the water falls. You can’t swim upstream after you jumped to the point of no return. What a waste of my night, all because I didn’t want to look bad and get rejected.

Praising another person’s ability is like being bitten by a hairy, poisonous spider. The venom travels through your blood streams very quickly and next thing you know, you’re paralyzed. It puts the person receiving the compliment in “performance mode.” It forces them to play a role that they haven’t rehearsed yet. You have to be perfect. Now. Or else you’ll be judged.

So when Friday rolls around and you wanna get down with the fellas, here’s what I suggest. If one of your bros sacks up,approaches a super fly stunner and gets rejected, don’t make fun of him. Give him props and a high five. Heck, buy him a drink while you’re at it. He put himself out there for self improvement and that is a great reason to celebrate. Despite the pretentious environment the night club brings, he’s being real and he’s following through his intentions. He would rather take a chance and get rejected than look cool. How many people in the club are doing that? Since you’re complimenting their effort, they’re more likely to take more risk and push themselves further than usual.

Keep this in mind next time you give someone a compliment. Unless you’re already a legendary-pimp-guy, then you can ignore everything I said.

About Myke Macapinlac
A kick ass fella, from Calgary, Alberta, an “Aspiring Everything-ist." I’m an aspiring writer and entrepreneur. Former structural designer and fatty. Your-friendly-neighborhood server. Bartender extraordinaire. Life enthusiast. Sober socialite. Retired male shooter and ladies night manager. Slick salesman. Style consultant. Music lover. Bad-ass lyricist. Future best-selling author and a hopeless romantic. Myke runs a blog called Think About It. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter.

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