Friday, February 22, 2013

You call that a pickup line?

More like a pick up my jaw... from off the floor ... because ... my jaw dropped because ... you're so stupid....

But seriously, have you seen this video? Wherein these douche-canoe-looking bros in sunglasses and bad jeans approach unsuspecting girls on a college campus (a campus that looks very familiar to me) and ask — no — demand that they put their numbers in their phones.

Girl: Why?
Bro: 'Cause I said.
Girl: *giggles* Okay.

Girl: Who are you?
Broseph: Shhhhh!

Girl: I don't even know you.
Bropocalypse: *Nods, silently*
Girl: Okay. You know what? *puts her number in his phone*

BYU? What r u doing? BYU! Stahp!!

This transcends all the normal douchebaggery that is par for the college course. Initially, I expected to only be disappointed with the dudes for being so blatantly condescending and disrespectful by approaching girls like chattel and "numbering" them before they even bother to find if they're dating someone, or how old they are, or what their freaking name is. But then the girls! They giggled! They smiled! They put their numbers in the phones! Very few of them troubled the brotatoes for their names, or what sort of brain damage they had, or anything.

Girls, trust me. And read this carefully. I know how you feel. When I was at BYU, I was not so babetastic as I am today. I did not get asked out a lot (except for that one month during my senior year and that was bizarre...). If a random guy approached me on campus and demanded my number, I might have been flattered. Even if he was a bro with bro-glasses and a bro-hawk. (Bro-hawks were actually fairly edgy back then). I might even have considered giving it to him. Cause you know, what if he's *the one*? What is this is our "meet-cute"?

But no! I pray that my self-respect would have prevailed and I would have realized that this mouth-breathing stranger was not asking for my number because of my brain, or my ideas, or my sparkling personality. And he maybe wasn't even asking because of my awkward cuteness. Any guy that would stop me on my way to class and demand my number would probably just be collecting digits so he can brag to his brethren in the Douche Brigade, or making an embarrassing sexist video for the Internet.

I'll tell you what I told my sister, who has, so far, successfully navigated her freshman year at BYU without getting engaged to or trampled by one of these troglodytic buttheads:

You're lucky your'e not one of these girls. As a proud member of the Girl Head, I would have disowned you. Promise me that you will do three things before submitting to a boy's demand that you "put your number in his phone":

1) Know him (his name, a friend of his, whether or not he's a sociopath, something!).
2) Tell him to say please and remind him that no one likes a bossypants.
3) Punch him in the nuts. You are more than how cute you are, and therefore, it takes more than cuteness (or arrogance, or unapologetic sexism) to get your number.

Save your number for someone who deserves it.