Notes from A-Broad

In spite of the phenomenon being several years—or perhaps centuries—old, I’ve been hearing a lot lately about The Game, which is one man’s guide to chasing tail. This type of advice is nothing new. As a woman, I’ve been inundated with tips about how to “meet Mr. Right” or “spice things up in bed” since I was old enough to sneak into my mom’s room and read her Redbook. All these books and articles give us advice that is at once obvious and useless. Here’s some more important advice, this time inspired by expatriates.

As a junior, several of my friends are currently studying abroad. While I’m stuck at home having boring colonial trysts, my friend Jeremy is in Lyon fucking French girls on soccer fields (carrément). I had heard the French (rightfully) look down their haute sophisticate noses at Americans, but according to Jeremy they are begging him, “Speak English to me!” Of course, he qualifies, here in the states American girls have asked him to speak French in bed. Which leads us to tip number one:

Sexy Accents: not just for “real” foreigners
Before I fell in like with the doorman of Bungalow 8 and stopped going anywhere else, my East Indian friend Guptango used to adopt the persona of a Saudi prince to get us personal shoppers at Saks and VIP treatment at the W, G Spa, and Tavern on the Green. Yes, Abdullah Al-Rahman ibn-Sa’eed Al-Qattan owned three Bengal tigers that rode around Riyadh in the back seat of his white Escalade, but what really got the ladies going was his ethnically ambiguous accent, somewhere between British, French, and Saudi—a result, of course, of studying first at the Sorbonne, and then at the London School of Economics. Perhaps we aren’t all capable of this degree of subtlety, but most of us can do a passable Southern or British accent, and if you can pull off Aquitaine, Barcelona, Cape Town, or Geneva, then you’re definitely getting laid.

Significant age difference → worship
My friend Jessica is sleeping with her professor in Paris. In theory this is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. The reality is probably a little less Nine 1⁄2 Weeks and a little more Love in Paris (read: same plot, worse execution), but regardless, she is living the dream. Ethical issues aside, getting with a professor or TA may not be possible for you at this school (and if it is, I can think of a couple of TAs to stay away from anyway), but we’re young and in New York City. Who needs a professor when you have thousands—nay millions—of older men and women looking for self-validation in bed with a younger lover? In fact, I’ve been both the younger woman and the older woman (the younger perky boobs and the older college boobs, respectively) in hookups, and at our age, either way, it results in one thing: worship. Next time you venture below 96th Street, try your luck with someone at least a decade your senior and try to tell me you failed.

If all else does fail, change your name
Looking through my phone book, I’ve met and made out with a lot of people with great names. From the improbable (“Cosmo”), to the obscure (“Hendrick”), to the distinctly southern (“Thaddeus”), I am sensing a pattern. Sure, I’ve had my share of Kevins and Johns (at the same time) ... yawn! Biblical names went out with Furby. What’s in? Greek gods. I have a friend studying in Milan who just met someone named Eros. If I were in Milan right now, this guy would be in my pants faster than you can say, “What a coincidence—I’m Psyche!” If you’re not down with the classics, there are always plain old batshit insane names like Dweezil and Apple. Granted I’ve only read the first five pages, but as I recall The Game is based on the pickup skills of some dude that goes by “Mystery.”

For the ladies, I’m thinking something like Dallas—from Brooklyn to London, city names are hotter than global warming. Also foxy: girls with traditionally male names. If I meet a girl named Corey, Joey, Ryan, or Richard, I’m probably going to try to make out with her—that shit is cute to the max. Hussy names can also be successful; my friend Emily and I have introduced ourselves as Trixie and Lola, and it gets us picked up like free Radiohead albums. One final word on this tip: McLovin. Basically, change your name—legally if possible.

Trixie and I are thinking about going abroad together next semester, where we plan to exploit our American accents, tender age, and sexy pseudonyms for all they’re worth. Be safe and good luck on all your travels.

The author is a Barnard College junior majoring in anthropology.