Dating Advice from Ass-Master Steve

You want to learn how to be a pussy-whisperer like me? You came to the right place, yo. I’ll teach you the basics. Before long, you be all mad-deep in women.

I know what I’m talking about. I can name, like, millions of chicks I’ve slept with, but they’re all from Canada, so you wouldn’t know any of ’em.

Step One: Yell at random women on the sidewalk.

Sounds crazy, right? But check this out: ninety-nine-point-two percent of all successful marriages originate with this step. That’s just math, bro.

So you’re driving along, listening to your Limp Bizkit, and you see some fly-ass honey standing on the sidewalk. You creep up, roll down your window, and yell, “Hey, girl!”

Chicks love this shit.

Step Two: Be judgmental.

Nothing turns a woman on more than feeling judged by someone who doesn’t know shit about her.

If she works fulltime, make her feel guilty for not being at home with her kids.

If she does spend time with her kids, make her feel guilty for being more of a homemaker and less of a modern, independent, career-minded woman.

If she doesn’t have kids, remind her that her eggs are all shriveling up inside her, and that she’s not doing her job to make babies and stuff.

If she puts out, call her a slut.

If she withholds, call her a tease.

If she pretends to enjoy sports, video games, or comics, quiz her with mass suspicion. Let her know that you aren’t fooled for a second. You know damn well she’s pretending to like that stuff because she wants to impress you.

Chicks don’t enjoy nothing that don’t have shit to do with potholders.

Step Three: Be Sensitive.

Bitches love a sensitive motherfucker. Whenever you’re with a target, act like a whiny pussy. Weep a lot and put yourself down.

Here’s some more math for you, bro: Pity equals attraction.

Step Four: Be self-centered.

Nothing makes a chick hotter than a guy who won’t shut up about himself.

For whatever reason, chicks feel a need to try to slide in a comment or two about themselves, or they ask questions that sound like you ought to return them. Don’t fall for that shit, dawg. Never let a girl get a word in edgewise.

This lets her know that you have no interest in her as a person, and that you only want to hit it. Always a good idea to get that information across.

What do you talk about? Ex-girlfriends are perfect! Tell her all about those asses you’ve tapped and how badly the relationships ended. Sound bitter.

Step Five: Be arrogant.

This goes hand-in-hand with never shutting up about how awesome you are.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “But Ass-master Steve, you just said back at Step Three that I ought to put myself down and mope a lot.”

Yeah, bro. Definitely. But you have to spin it around constantly and talk a lot of shit about how awesome you are.

The goal is to sound like a worthless person who’s trying to compensate by acting like a know-it-all asshole.

This can prove tricky. The last thing you want a honey to think is that you have enough well-deserved self-confidences that you can play it cool and not give a shit what anyone else thinks about you. No chick would ever find that appealing.

Step Six: Corner her.

Whenever a honey wanders into the corner of a room, block her way back out of it. Wave your arms around if necessary.

DO NOT let her get past you. This is NOT the time for respect toward personal boundaries.

The more frustrated she becomes with you, the more likely you’re going to hit it.

The First Date:

The enemies of home plate are safety and security. Make sure your target feels neither. Chicks dig a guy they can’t trust. If she tells you something private, tweet that shit to the world.

For your first date, take her to a dangerous neighborhood and abandon her. Just walk out of whichever building the two of you are in, get in your car, and drive away without saying a word.

The First Kiss:

Always ask permission to kiss her. Say it in a whiny voice, like you expect her to say “No.” Take waaaaay to long to psych yourself up for it.

If possible, crack your forehead against hers when you finally go in.

It helps to have a lot of chewing gum in your mouth. Chewing tobacco works even better.

In Bed:

The game of sex is won by getting as much pleasure for yourself as possible. Don’t waste time trying to figure out what she likes. This would require you to pay attention to how she responds to different activities.

Just do whatever the hell you want and yell the wrong name when you cum.

After Sex:

Get the hell out of there, yo. Chicks hate cuddling almost as much as they hate pillow talk. Just scramble for the door.

Do NOT call the bitch the next day. Ignore her until she’s texted you half a dozen times. And make damn sure you tell everyone on Facebook how freaky she was between the sheets. Those rumors won’t start themselves.

On your way out of her apartment, leave something behind by “accident.” This way, you’ll have an excuse to return and try to hit it again without her thinking you came back because you wanted to spend time with her.

In Conclusion:

Follow these simple steps, and you can be like me, Ass-Master Steve, who has, like, a million girlfriends . . . in Canada.

Four Ethans

Ethan Worth carries his TV dinner to the walnut coffee table in the living room. The eighteen-year-old watches the television screen, across which a motivational speaker speaks to the audience seated around him.

“Everyone chooses his or her own path,” says the motivational speaker. “The trick? You must—” (Ethan whispers along)  “—believe in the destiny you choose.”

Ethan sits, after dinner, at the cluttered desk in his bedroom. He adds his high school diploma to his scrapbook. Trophies crown every surface around him. Blue ribbons smother corkboards. Plaques hang from walls.

(forward)

The next morning, Ethan seats himself upon a chair fastened to the naked, cement floor, inside the visitor’s center of a women’s prison.

A TV, protected by a metal cage, hangs from a brick wall. Ethan sets his scrapbook upon the cold table in front of him.

A guard leads Faith to the table. She sits, her eyes glued to the TV.

Ethan swallows. “Hi, Mom.”

“You bring me my cigarettes?” Her eyes don’t drift from the TV.

He removes a soft pack from his pocket, hands it to her. “I have something for you.” He gestures towards the scrapbook.

She stares at the TV.

Ethan clears his throat. “Have you heard from Dad?”

She finally looks at him. “You live with him. You ever see him?” Her attention returns to the TV. “Unless you’re money, he doesn’t know you exist.”

Ethan tries to grin. “I guess I’ll have to get my face on a dollar bill, then.”

(forward)

Ethan and his girlfriend, Hope, spend the evening on a stroll across a carnival. They pass a table at which an old woman concentrates upon her crystal ball.

“Care to hear your destiny?” the old woman asks Ethan.

“No thanks,” Ethan says. “I’ve already picked one.”

Hope offers him a playful elbow. “What’s your future?”

“Greatness is my destination.”

Hope sighs. “Once you reach it, you’ll wish you had slowed down, enjoyed your journey.”

Ethan buys her a snow cone. They sit at a picnic table.

“Have you decided?” she asks between bites. “Will you join the Army? Or will you play football for the Miami Hurricanes while attending law school?”

“I’m determined to enter politics,” Ethan says. “People vote for lawyers and soldiers. Either path will take me there.”

Hope rolls her eyes. “Since it doesn’t matter . . . ” She displays a quarter. “Heads, army. Tails, you play football for the Hurricanes.”

The time is 4:30 pm. The coin is airborne. Sunlight glistens off its metal. Ethan tries to catch it. He misses. It lands.

“Tails,” Hope whispers. “Guess you better pack.”

(forward)

Ethan attends law school in Miami for the next few months. He plays football. He excels not only at law, but also at science. He studies theories such as the Multiverse.

He learns that Einstein considered time an illusion.

(forward)

Ethan trips, one sunny afternoon in autumn, across the football field during practice. He tears a muscle in his leg. The doctor says he’ll recover after a few months in a cast.

Hope leaves NYU, jumps a plane to Miami. She cares for Ethan, helps him recover. He eventually returns to the football field. Hope remains in Florida, watch Ethan graduate law school.

(forward)

The time is again 4:30 pm. Ethan and Hope sit in a diner. Ethan tells Hope that the Seattle Seahawks offered him a position.

Hope asks Ethan to return to NYU with her, instead.

Ethan sits, stunned that she would suggest that he turn down a chance at professional football.

(rewind)

The time is 4:30 pm. The coin is airborne. This time, Ethan catches it.

He leans across the picnic table centered in the carnival. “I don’t need a quarter to tell me what to do,” he tells Hope. “To hell with law school. I’m joining the Army.”

A few months later, Ethan graduates both basic training and AIT.

Ethan, throughout his military career, thinks only of how he shall ascend the next rung in the promotional ladder. He realizes too late that his self-centeredness alienated him from his fellow soldiers.

Major Huffman arrives in Ethan’s barracks during the last week of Ethan’s contract. Huffman announces his assembly of military unit sworn to shut down a domestic terrorist group called Black Curtain.

Black Curtain targets “unimportant,” American buildings. Bookstores. Dentist offices. Daycares. They want Americans to feel threatened everywhere.

The clock displays 4:30 pm. Ethan must either join Huffman’s team . . . or complete his contract and start his political career.

(rewind)

4:30 pm. Ethan and Hope sit in a diner. The Seattle Seahawks have offered him a position. Hope wants Ethan to return with her to New York.

Ethan cannot pass up an opportunity to play for a professional team, and he abandons her.

He plays for the Seahawks. He plays well. Children plead for Ethan’s action figure. Collectors seek his rookie card.

Ethan feels loved. He talks big and boastful, and the public embraces him all the more for it.

One day before the start of a game, he lines up beside his teammates, who hold their helmets against their hearts, a demonstration of mourning for those killed by the terrorist group, Black Curtain, in New York.

Ethan worries that the terrorist attack harmed Hope. Distracted, he drops the ball that would’ve carried his team to the Super Bowl. The world of sports turns on him.

Ethan learns that Hope remains alive and well in New York. She works as a veterinarian. She always held a soft spot for injured animals.

The next football season arrives. Ethan publically swears to redeem himself for last year’s fumble. He doesn’t.

His coach benches him after twenty consecutive fumbles. He cannot show his face in public.

He calls Hope one lonely night, begs her to meet him. She agrees, because she always held a soft spot for injured animals.

They agree to meet at her favorite Chinese restaurant in New York.

(rewind)

4:30 pm. Staff Sergeant Ethan Worth joins Huffman’s antiterrorist team.

Ethan volunteers for every assignment. His superiors praise his proactivity. Their praises feel warm. He swears to stop Black Curtain, who recently attacked New York.

He sleeps often with Sergeant Hatchet, another member of Huffman’s team. She kisses him, as if she tries to siphon time from his lips. She turns her back to him whenever he claims to love her, as if angry with herself.

The night before Ethan ships out to spend several months on a training exercise, he dismounts Hatchet. He says with a sheepish smile,  “I owe you an orgasm.”

She kisses his nose. “You owe me seven, but who’s counting?”

Ethan discusses their possible future together, and she grows angry. She breaks down and screams. “I won’t be here when you return.”

Cancer. The sort one doesn’t bother to fight.

She swears that she never expected him to fall in love with her. She just couldn't spend end her life in an empty bed.

"I’m Schrodinger’s cat," she says, after a silence. "Alive and dead."

Alive. Dead. It only depends on whether or not anyone pays attention.

True to her word, Hatchet does not await Ethan when he returns from his training.

Ethan works relentlessly to discover Black Curtain’s next target: a Chinese restaurant in New York. But which one? The terrorists will escape if Huffman's team vacates every Chinese restaurant in New York.

If Ethan wishes to capture Black Curtain, he must catch them by surprise. The restaurants must remain open.

Ethan grabs the first flight to New York.

(rewind)

4:30 pm. Staff Sergeant Ethan Worth does not accept Huffman’s offer to join his antiterrorist unit. Ethan starts his political career, instead.

He earns a place for himself in Washington, calls attention to his military service, speaks often about the importance of improving the military’s strength. He swears that any sign of weakness will embolden America’s enemies.

By luck, Black Curtain attacks New York.

Support for Senator Worth skyrockets. He makes influential friends. He collects power. People respect his power.

He becomes a key opponent to the proposed, single-payer, national health care program.

He runs into Hope, one evening, in New York. He meets her husband and their infant . . . in a Chinese restaurant.

(rewind)

4:30 pm. Ethan and Hope sit in a diner in Miami. The Seattle Seahawks have offered him a position. Hope wants Ethan to return with her to New York.

He agrees.

He passes the New York State bar exam. Many of Ethan’s coworkers consider him lazy, because he prioritizes Hope over his career.

He and Hope marry in June. She conceives a child in November.

He never suspected such happiness could exist.

He drops her off, one December morning, at her doctor’s office. While he searches for a parking space, the doctor’s office explodes.

Black Curtain planted a bomb inside the building.

Hope loses her baby in the blast. She does not lose her life. Not quite.

Time passes. She does not regain consciousness. Medical bills pile.

February. He sits at her bedside, rotates her joints, cuts her hair, ignores his mounting debts.

March. Hope awakes, but her memories seem fractured. She cannot walk. Twice, Ethan explains to her that their baby died.

Nevertheless, he feels relieved to have her awake and mostly aware.

He takes her to her favorite Chinese restaurant to celebrate her return.

(pause)

Staff Sergeant Ethan Worth, dressed in civilian clothes, storms the men’s room inside a Chinese restaurant. He searches the stalls, finds the bomb he cannot hope to deactivate in the next thirty seconds.

Its timer continues to tick.

No choice but to evacuate.

He races outside the bathroom, yells for the diners’ attention.

His eyes lock with Hope’s. She sits at a table with another man. An infant sits upon her lap.

(pause)

Ethan the Football Player shakes hands with Hope’s husband. The three of them seat themselves within the restaurant.

(pause)

Ethan the Politician accepts the seat that Hope offers him. She introduces her husband to him.

                                                                            (pause)

Ethan the Lawyer leans across the table and takes his wife’s hands. He squeezes them. Hope smiles her broken smile.

To her, he realizes, the explosion at the doctor’s office just happened.

                                                                            (play)

The bomb in the bathroom ticks off its final few seconds, and all four of Ethan’s journeys end.

The time is 4:30 pm.

The coin remains airborne.

Tanner versus Scarlet

“It’s a rare condition,” Doctor Burger told the fifty-five-year-old Tanner. “Your heart rate became too regular, and the blood flow rubbed tiny ruts into your brain.”

Tanner nodded thoughtfully. “I understand.” He didn’t.

Burger placed a hand on Tanner’s shoulder, squeezed. “You have a week to live.”

“Oh.” Tanner digested this. “Should I change my diet?”

“It wouldn’t matter.”

“Good. I hate change.” Tanner’s fingers drummed against his sides. “Is that all, then? I have to get to work.”

Burger’s eyes widened. “Work? Did you hear what I said? You’ve a week to live. You need to get your affairs in order.”

“They’re quite orderly,” Tanner said with a touch of pride.

Tanner grabbed his coat, turned towards the door, and remembered something. “I think that, the last time I came here, I accidently tossed a receipt from Radio Shack into one of your trashcans. Is there any chance you haven’t changed the garbage since then?”

Burger blinked several times. “I’m certain we’ve emptied the garbage cans since Thursday.”

Tanner frowned. “I needed that receipt to complete a two-dollar mail-in rebate.”

*                      *                      *

The sales associate at Radio Shack told Tanner to wait in line. He waited close to twenty minutes, obtained a replacement receipt, and headed to work.

He never enjoyed his job at Joe’s Bean Counting and Canning, where he counted (and occasionally canned) beans. However, the job provided him with a steady, predictable paycheck. Tanner preferred steady and predictable things.

Tanner always spent his paychecks wisely, saved as much as possible. He never vacationed, never bought things he didn’t need. His weekly visit to his local pub provided his only indulgence.

Rosy worked at the pub. She wore a fiery mane of bright red hair. Tanner often fantasized that he might ask Rosy out, but the proper time for the proposal never arrived.

*                      *                      *

Tanner took his lunch break after his first four hours of bean counting. He walked towards the usual food truck. He always ordered a turkey sandwich with yellow mustard and white bread.

He watched his co-workers head towards the new, Mexican restaurant across the street. The fools risked their money, health, and time on food they never before tried. What if they didn’t like it?

Tanner approached the food truck, placed his order.

“That’ll be five-thirty-five, sir,” said the pimply, young man inside the truck.

Tanner balked violently. “Where did the extra thirty-five cents come from?”

“We had to raise our prices,” said Pimples.

Tanner drew himself to full height. “Now see here, young man. I’ve paid exactly five dollars for the same turkey sandwich for years.”

Pimples sighed. “Sir . . . it’s only thirty-five cents.”

“It’s the principle,” Tanner explained, index finger in mid-wag. “I’m going to complain about your prices, though I know you have no control over them. Then, I’ll buy the sandwich regardless, only to realize that I haven’t enough time left to actually eat it.”

Pimples stared at him. “Why?”

*                      *                      *

Tanner set his unwrapped sandwich next to his desk. He ignored both it and his noisy stomach. He counted beans for the next four hours.

His mind drifted towards his friend, James Scarlet, who often demonstrated inconceivable recklessness. James kept only the loosest grip over his fickle career interests. James would quit anything the second it bored him.

James had gone skydiving, mountain climbing, and even broken his arm in a motorcycle accident.

James lost a small fortune in Vegas. He had nearly earned his law degree, before he decided, at the last minute, to quit and become a beekeeper.

James had, in the course of a week, met, married, and divorced a deaf midget.

*                      *                      *

A yard sale captured Tanner’s attention during his drive home from work. He pulled over and inspected the goods for sale. He discovered a stamp book, half filled. He haggled with the homeowner, talked her down from five dollars to four.

He arrived home, clipped coupons, and watched reruns of an old sitcom.

His telephone rang with devastating news. . . .

*                      *                      *

Tanner rushed to the hospital as quickly as the speed limits allowed.

A doctor led him towards the room in which James rested. James had, the doctor explained, ingested some rare form of food poisoning, which had evolved, over the last week, from stomach cramps to catastrophic liver failure.

James (who would die within the next few hours) rested—bone-thin and ghost-white—across his hospital bed.

“Oh, James,” Tanner moaned. He approached the other man. “What happened?”

James laughed. “I sold my house and car and quit my job.”

“You did? When?”

“Two months ago.”

“Where have you been living?”

James laughed harder. “Wherever I wanted. I bought a membership to a twenty-four-hour gym. Some nights, I slept in the hot tub. The other nights, I attended singles groups and let a new friend take me home with her.

“I spent a week in Asia,” James continued. “I lived on the beaches of Vietnam and Cambodia. An American dollar takes you far, over there.” His laughter turned to a dark chuckle. “Guess I ate something rotten along the way.”

“That something will kill you.” Tanner shook his head. “I always knew something terrible would happen to you.”

“My only regret,” James said, “is how much heaven will bore me.”

*                      *                      *

The next morning, Tanner wrote a letter to the local homeowners’ association. One of his neighbors had allowed her grass to grow two inches too tall.

Tanner mailed his letter, headed to work, counted beans, and went to the pub.

He watched Rosy, tried to gauge if he ought to test his luck with her tonight.

No. Tonight didn’t provide the proper conditions. She looked too tired to accept a dinner proposal.

He would try his luck another day. He had all the time in the world. Another six days that would do anything but fly past him.