The 6-Step Guide To Post-Breakup Boning

Old School / Amazon.com
Old School / Amazon.com
SO. You’ve successfully come out of your recent house of horrors relationship, in which you caught your ex fucking your next door neighbor on your birthday (or Valentine’s day, or right after your engagement, etc). You’ve gone through the stages of grief hundreds of times over. You’ve even thought, “Poor Robert Pattinson, I should make myself a team Robert t-shirt that I will never wash and wear it underneath all of my clothes in solidarity.” You’ve shame-spiraled and gotten humiliatingly sad-drunk in a public restroom alone at 2 p.m. You’ve listened to T-Swift’s “We Are Never Getting Back Together” and tried to celebrate this transition after with a post-break up ego. Now you want to move on, but the only problem is you hate all people forever now, and your ex has ruined the opposite sex for you by so shamelessly gutting you open and leaving you to bleed yourself dry until you’re a hollow, bitter, disdainful husk of a human, incapable of love or adherence to moral Western law. That’s rough bro.
Everyone keeps telling you to “get back out there.” Where the fuck is “there”? And how do I know I even want to be there? There is no such thing as true love, and everything is decidedly terrible. I will strangle the next person who tries to hit on me. But, unfortunately, meaningless sex is actually very therapeutic to the healing process, effectively cutting emotional and physical ties with your former paramour, symbolically signifying you are no longer pining for him or her Who Shall Not Be Named (let us hope, anyway). Eventually, the possibility of having sex seems like a desirable goal, except you are most likely the most un-charming person in the bar, due to your cynicism and hawk-like scowl, and, let’s face it, B.O. You are the anti-poon. In desperate times such as these, a little thing called LYING TO YOURSELF AND OTHERS comes quite in handy. You basically need to misrepresent your entire existence for a few short hours and ply the intended target full of booze, using these key strategies that will trick said human into copulating with your genitals.
I know it’s scary, but it is in fact perfectly achievable. Think of me as your shepherdess leading you to the land of Milk and Honey, to The Field of Dreams. Heed my words, dream-weavers, and you’ll be on the fast-track to makin’ it with hot, faceless, one-night-stand discards like there’s no tomorrow.

Step 1: Acquire target.

Go to a bar, nightclub, warehouse party, or some sort of sweaty-human-sardine-can locale in which you’re certain to find your peers abusing substances and grinding on every inch of each other. Then look around this disgusting lecherous watering hole of humanity and scan the crowd for your target. It is especially important to feed your deep-seated self-esteem issues by choosing someone who is in every way the physical superior of H/S WSNBN (see He/She Who Shall Not Be Named). It helps you to prove your own prowess (in a twisted, perverse way). It also helps curb the self-loathing that may follow for certain “sensitive types.”

Step 2: Drink enough that you feel okay about your immoral choices.

Don’t drink yourself to a nonfunctioning state. Neither should you drink yourself to tears or vomit — as it happens, this is often a deal-breaker for some targets (although, speaking from personal experience, if you are a straight girl, men do sometimes find this attractive. Color me flabbergasted). But in general, it should be avoided. Drink enough that you’re sufficiently confident and self-assured to handle a possible rejection without collapsing into a misery-filled puddle on the in public.

Step 3: Get close to your target.

Make yourself known to intended target by dancing near him or her, offering to buy him or her a drink at the bar, or by acting open and available through persistent eye contact.

Step 4: Engage with your target.

And perhaps the most difficult step you’ll endure. The objective? To trick your target into being attracted to you, even though you are a deeply flawed misanthrope secretly praying for their destruction. Make conversation. All 20-somethings have an inexplicable predilection towards these strategies — look to them to help you seal the deal if you happen to be struggling. Perhaps you’ll hearken back to some 90’s nostalgia, make fun of redheads, or start talking about your trip to India/Africa. Pretend to be classy and Important, express your appreciation for French New-Wave cinema, offer up some of your sweet potato fries, and talk about how you’re training for a 5K Fight Breast Cancer.

NOTE: You will violently hate yourself, and them, for this obsequious act of fraud you are both engaging in, but CONTINUE TO SUPPRESS THIS WITH EVERY FIBER OF YOUR BEING AND KEEP SMILING LIKE YOU ARE UTTERLY THRILLED. And, above all else, keep the drinks coming.

Step 5: Initiate hook-up sequence.

Once you’ve completed Step 4, you will find yourself getting closer and closer to your target — perhaps even having a good time flirting (although this is unlikely). You two are touching, holding hands, talking closely with one another, sitting on each other, or engaging in some other vomit-inducing behavior. Now take it to the next level. The Sloppy Make-out Level. Grab them by the drunk head and yank them towards your face kissing them like you’re making the genuine human connection that you are in fact incapable of.

Step 6: Follow the yellow brick road to candyland.

At this point, you’d have to be a total moron to screw this up. By now, your target should be putty in your sociopathic hands. Then, after adequate dry-humping in the restroom or alleyway, suggest to go to your apartment. Try not to think about all the passionate and sincere expressions of love that took place in your bedroom in the past. That is dead to you. You are a sojourner on the path to mindless, meaningless sex, which, as it happens, will not make you feel like your soul is expanding only to shatter your universe when it’s over. No — you will only feel searing awkwardness, unprecedented hilarity, or visceral pleasure, followed by nothing — that complete and sublime mistress known as apathy. TC mark

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