The complete idiot’s guide to catcalling
A friend of mine used to tell girls they were gorgeous. He’d just walk up and say the words. Usually at hipster bars. Total strangers. It was okay, though. He was an artist. Or maybe it wasn’t okay.
Honestly, I don’t know anymore.
It just feels like if you’re holding an avocado while you tell a girl she’s sexy, that’s slightly less ominous.
Like if you told me you were trying to empower me through compliments, while holding a bag of kale, and you were also wearing glasses with thick frames, I would be okay with that. Somehow.
And I’m also confused about why cats keep coming up in conversations about women. Pussy. Catcalling. Don’t tell me this all started with Cat Woman. I’m thinking it goes back even further.
Possibly to ancient Egypt.
Where I live, we have lots of stray cats. You can call them over and pet them. Feed them. But you definitely can’t fuck them.
If I knew that someone shouting at me from a distance meant moral support, and possibly free food, I’d be all for cat-calling for people.
Anyway, back to my artist friend.
The girls would smile and say something like, “Awww thanks. You’re so sweet!” Nothing creepy going on here. Because, you know, my friend wasn’t trying to fuck anyone. Just spreading good vibes.
Okay, fine. It was a little bizarre.
But so was my friend — an all around weirdo. This one time, he walked up to a guy on a hiking trail and complimented his forearms. That’s right, a guy. His forearms. No LSD was involved. That I know of.
Which put me in the awkward position of nodding and saying stuff like, “Yeah, those forearms are definitely going down in my top ten. Are you a guitar player? They tend to have really nice forearms.” You see, I was trying to diffuse the situation.
My point? That’s about as far as you can go. If you think someone’s so beautiful it warrants a direct compliment, then I guess you’re not sexist for voicing your appreciation.
Especially if you also compliment men’s forearms.
But it’s still weird. Especially these days. Because you’re a stranger. And girls can’t read your mind. So if you feel compelled to pay random compliments, brace yourself for a range of reactions. Including pepper spray.
Last year, a guy stopped me on campus and asked if I wanted to model for him. Maybe he was really an artist. Or a photographer. Or maybe he was the next Ted Bundy.
Zero part of me wanted to actually model for him. You know, being a professor and all. That wouldn’t go over well.
Still, part of me wanted to pull this large man and his man bun aside and give him tips on effective model procurement. I wanted to tell him, “At least try Craigslist first.” But I didn’t. Because I didn’t know him. And he was big. And his man bun was also big.
That wasn’t exactly a catcall. But when you think about it, not so different. A large guy accosting you. Red flag.
The man bun made me feel slightly more safe. Like, the man bun was the main reason I didn’t report him to the police.
A lot’s changed since my friend paid random compliments to pretty girls. That happened years ago. Back before Cosby and Weisenrash and #MeToo. Assholes have ruined everything. You can’t even use spray tan anymore, without someone comparing you to the Donald.
Such a tragedy. Not that bottled tan ever worked wonders. When I tried, it made me look like a reverse racoon.
You don’t believe me. But I’m telling the truth about my artist friend. Not once did he ever ask for a phone number from the girls he didn’t hit on. The guy already had a girlfriend. And she was gorgeous.
In the end, I think they broke up though. Maybe his vocal appreciation for random beauty in bars played a roll in there somewhere.
A lot of dudes describe a catcall as a kind of compliment. Like guys aren’t trying to be offensive when they shout hey baby, sup? But I’ve seen real compliments in action. So these guys just need to stop. They’re not fooling anyone. Except other guys.
And I doubt that’s their intent.
The odds are slim that anyone who catcalls will actually read my post. Still, maybe you know someone who knows someone who’s catcalled a girl. Here’s what you can tell them: It doesn’t work.
We need to get the word out. Catcalling has never gotten anyone laid. Not even with a stray cat.
When I said laid, I meant like consensually. As in the girl was awake and seemed to know what was happening.
Or the cat.
I’ve never heard this from a girl: “So I was out with my squad, and this guy starting shouting at me from across the street. He was super cute. So I walked over and started flirting. Next thing you know, he put a ring on it!”
Or this: “So I pulled off at this gas station, and this total stud looked me up and down and said dam girl, where’d you get those legs? He bought me some Pringles, and the rest is history.”
But let’s say you really do meet the girl of your dreams. On a Wednesday afternoon. At a Starbucks. And she’s wearing earbuds. She looks busy. But you just have to talk to her.
Here’s my advice. Print up some bizness cards. You know, like it’s bizness time. You have business cards for work. Add bizness cards for your game, brah. They’re basically the same thing.
But you can go wild with your bizness card.
You can use wingdings. Or comic sans.
Or, hey. Both.
Your business card should present your company logo in raised lettering. But your bizness card can feature…
A drunken selfie.
As long as the resolution is 160 DPS or higher…
But not a dick pic. See my earlier post. And well, let’s not go with drunk, per se. More like buzzed.
Like maybe a tasteful party pic of you with your crew. Not drunk as in hammered. Hello, swipe left.
That actually happened to me once. Yep. A hot guy saw me in a coffee shop. He walked by and placed his bizness card on my table. Smirked.
Yeah, I called him. We went on three dates. But then he stopped returning my texts. Sad, really. Because he resembled James Franco. But still. The card served its purpose.
When I say card, I mean his phone number written on a napkin.
Same difference. These days, go with Vistaprint. And that’s not a paid endorsement. Everyone uses Vistaprint these days.
So stop catcalling. It doesn’t work. If you really want to get straight to the point, make some bizness cards. Hand them out to strangers you’d like to fuck (SILFs, if you will). They’ll either call you back, or they won’t. Because you might see a hot chick at a Starbucks. But maybe she’s not on Tinder. So, bizness cards. Show her you mean bizness. But not in a rapey way.