There is nothing on earth as nerve wracking as having to call a girl to ask her out. It isn't talked about in plain terms in today's day and age, mostly because men regard this as a sign of weakness, but even the most attractive, suave, in-shape, rich guy in the world has to gather himself a little before he dials up the girl he met at the bar last weekend.
A lot of this comes from the sheer ambiguity inherent to the situation; odds are you met this girl for the first time at a random location, had some semblance of a good time together, and gathered the balls to ask her for her number. But now what? The questions race through your head; will she even remember me? Did she just say she wanted to hang out because she was drunk? Did she have on beer goggles? What if she's a lot uglier than I remember, or perhaps some sort of born-again Christian that doesn't put out ‘til you've had your third child together?
The contradictory nature of the questions that run through your head doesn't help either. I mean c'mon, if a girl isn't putting out until you've had three kids, who the fuck is poking her in the meantime? And that's really the crux of the situation; it's all good when you're sitting seven Red Bull and vodkas deep, spitting mad game at this floozy who keeps casually rubbing your thigh and talking about how flexible she's gotten since taking up yoga, but come Monday morning feelings fade, memories pass, and you're just another Joe Schmo looking to slip her the cucumber slumber in exchange for a dinner date.
Luckily for you, on the 20th of January, 1983, in the fine town of Oklahoma City the Ass was born, and I have put together a systematic system (you heard right) by which to handle calling a girl.
To get into the proper mindset, you need to think back on the long history of men who have come before you who had to go through this very same ritual. Years ago they didn't have cell phones; men had to outline a likely time and place for their potential mate to be at home unoccupied by the phone to even attempt to ask them out. Now we could take this to the extreme and say that even before that, men had to find out what cave a girl lived in, wait until the dark of night and then club her unexpectedly before dragging her back to his own abode hoping the whole time he didn't encounter a stegosaurus on the way, but who the fuck wants to diffuse the pain in the ass nature of the current circumstance by contrasting it against some cro-magnon-esque Lockian state-of-nature love story?
The point is that this is just one sociologically evolved aspect of the mating ritual that men have been involved in for the better part of twelve thousand years and instead of being scared, you should feel fucking honored and privileged to even have the chance to call a girl up you ungrateful piece of shit.
If you really like this girl OR she is really hot, do not text message her. This probably goes against every bone in your body and don't get me wrong in the least, I fucking love text messaging. There are so many useful ways to use it outside of the dating world that I would be at odds to even scrape the surface of its long-term viability. However, simply put, it cheapens the brand in this particular realm. I know that might not make sense on the surface, since text messaging a girl is a low-pressure way to communicate, flirt, and make progress with a female in a variety of different ways, but it also in some sense dilutes the meaning of the courtship.
The point is that while yes, you might be able to pull off a couple full-on "relationships" exclusively using the text feature on your Verizon Wireless plan, big picture you're limiting your abilities by wooing a girl exclusively in T9Word. All I am trying to say is, if you really like this girl OR she is smokin' hot, you should probably take the time and consideration to actually call her about hanging out because, well, girls like that kinda crap.
In the end however, preparation, mentality, and material can really only get you so far. Half the time you'll end up amping yourself up only to leave a voicemail and then wait like a little bitch for her to call back. That's why I've developed the "How to Call a Girl Mad Lib"! Just like the Mad Libs of old, pick out the words first, fill them in, use it when you finally get to talk to her, and watch the hilarity ensue. Enjoy!
1. A random girl's name – preferably hers (name)
2. A random article of women's clothing (noun)
3. A delicious fruit (noun)
4. A random country in Africa or the Middle East (name)
5. A form of manual labor (noun ending in -ing)
6. Single digit number
7. Emaciated female celebrity (name)
8. A radical extreme sport that's totally badass (noun ending in -ing)
9. Something that involves community service or helping kids (verb + noun)
10. A gay date-like activity that involves you spending money on her (noun ending in -ing)
Hey ____1_____ it's Marine. What are you up to?
It was great to see/meet you the other night. I meant to tell you that you looked really pretty in your ____2_____. And you smelled like a patch/grove of wild ____3_____.
I'm serious! Did you just get back from _____4______?
So what is it that you study/do for a living, you look like you'd be great at _____5_____.
No, I'm serious, you must workout, I saw your guns. I'm guessing you are curling at least ___6__-pound dumb bells.
Ya know, the other night I couldn't help but think that you looked like _______7_______ or something. I bet you get harassed by the paparazzi all the time when you go out.
When you're not hanging out at/in (the place or area where you met), what do you do for fun? Really? Well I like to go ______8_____ and _____9_______ most of the time, but sometimes on the weekends I just chill out and play with myself.
So listen, I was wondering if some time this/next week you'd like to go ______10_____?
So there you have it, the patented Marine the Ass How to Call a Girl Mad Lib. Outfitted with this simple grammatical exercise you too can be successful calling any and all women you encounter, regardless of race, creed, or color-and that's a guarantee.
Note: This shit is NOT fucking guaranteed in any way, shape, or form.