Jennie Smash

“The problem is, I have no game,” Andrew said.

I considered the problem. It was one I’d heard before, from many men, but hadn’t really given much credence to. I mean, c’mon: Do we really need to be fooled, we ladies, into sleeping with a guy? It seems silly.

“You don’t need game,” I said. “You’re a handsome guy! Doing interesting things. Anyone would be happy to get with you.”

He shook his head. “This is not true. Think about it. Guys need game.”

I thought about it.

“You know,” I said. “You might have a point. I know this one guy who gets girls by saying the worst possible thing he can think of.”

“Like? I need examples.”

“Well, OK. Like, on my birthday, I looked pretty good, right? I mean, I’d had my hair blown out and took a shower and everything.”

“I remember.”

“And he came up to me and said, ‘You’re looking for cock!’”

“See? See! Did that work?”

“No. I mean, I didn’t jump on him or anything.”

“But you thought it was charming! That’s what I need! I need game.”

“Well, I guess you just have to figure out what your thing is.” Pause. “But I wouldn’t recommend that routine. It’s not for amateurs.”