So, I’m toying with the idea of starting a mini dating advice column here. Depending on the response, of course. So if you’re sick of posting on Craigslist and following girls into alleys to no avail, and you want some dating advice, disability-related or otherwise, email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I’m an expert, you see, because I have no qualifications whatsoever to be answering your questions and was in fact mostly pressured into it by Jeff. To christen this little column, I’m going to start by giving some advice to these fellows right here:
Point One: Honesty is key, Boys on Wheels. Did you really hear the doctor say that the moment you were born? I really don’t think you did.
Point Two: Kare Conradi reference? Who ARE you?
Point Three: Wind machine at 1.03 and 1.22. What is this, Total Eclipse of the Heart? Just…no.
Point Four: For real now. Rule number one of like, life: show, don’t tell. If you are greeting women by assuring them your balls are okay, the rest of you is probably not okay. If you are assuming romantic interest will not garden in someone who thinks your balls might not be okay, then you are selling yourself short. Act confidently–because you can do that, because you, and not just your balls, are probably ok (unless you are this)–and forget about your balls for a while. Because someone who won’t give you the time of day based on a slim possibility that you have inferior gonads isn’t worth your time. And a confident attitude, in actions, which speak louder than words, which are cheap, will hint at a functional pair of cajones anyways, hopefully.