Wooing her with my chocolate rod*

Millions of men out there want to know 2 things: how do I get her and how do I get her to stay?** Well, I can't help with the first one, but as for the second, think chocolate.

I might have mentioned before that when I was about twelve, I visited New Orleans with my family. We broke up for the day so that we can indulge seperate passions: photos, clothes, photos of women with or without clothes. In search of the latter, I wondered off the beaten path of the French Quarter and found myself in the Ninth Ward. I soon met an elderly homeless man and although my English was about 0 at the time, I surmised that he wanted some cashola. I had a better idea: take the guy to breakfast. Spend two bucks, get some carbs into him and be certain that he won't blow the money on booze. After watching him like a hawk to make sure he ate it all, we shook hands and parted ways. Years later I took the same approach to the homeless in New York City and it worked out fine.

But hold on to your hats kiddies: Food is not just for the homeless anymore- it's also for dating. Examine closely:



This is no ordinary chocolate wafer mind you. Rather it is the beer substitute of the new millenium. The bar scene goes like this: go in, get wasted, pay exorbitantly for it and, using your impaired judgement, pick the skank closest to your depraved heart. Nothing wrong with this but what about those who prefer the agony of diabetes to the misery of liver chirrosis? Now you wouldn't just hand these wafers out willy-nilly would you? Especially in Poland where store shelves lay bare for weeks and expired food is often the main (and only) supermarket attraction. Rather, the technique is to break it down into bite-sized pieces, like so:



Which assures that, much like beer, chocolate won't be wasted in excess. (I once heard of a guy in Seoul who claimed that his limit was two drinks-if no nookie was forthcoming, he would dump her on the spot and move on, a story which neatly encapsulates everything I hate about the bar scene and Korean male expats.) Tiny weapons at the ready, it's time to walk about in your city/town/village/military base/religious commune and actually talk to people. Now I know that actual human interaction while sober is a scary thought, especially to Americans, but you gotta do it.

What is the worst that could happen? Besides her calling the police and getting you arrested for possessing sugar without a permit, a crime punishable by no less than ten years in prison and a fine of $500,000 for every 10 grams found on your person? Nothing really. So relax. (Oh yeah- she could also dump you- rejection never tasted so sweet.)

*-I believe this was the first time I used a subconsciously sexual/racial title on this blog. A true milestone.

**-Okay, lets be honest. Most guys are only interested in the first part.