It’s Saturday night. You’re out drinking with some friends at the local karaoke bar where you’ve just finished an epic rendition of “Candy Shop” that would have made Curtis himself weep. In between swigs of Michelob Ultra, you glance down at your phone, “how the fuck is it 2 AM already?” Frantically, you scan the room, searching for any female weighing under 280 pounds. Seeing nothing but 3 middle-aged Kazakhstanian men having a particularly intense conversation, you hang your head and begin to head for home. Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in your head. You excitedly take out your phone and clumsily begin scrolling through your contacts…
We’ve all been there before. At least 95% of young people drink alcohol for one reason and one reason only: to put themselves in a position to get laid. “Whoa, whoa, whoa… thats not true, I drink to have fun with my friends and meet people!” No you don’t. Keep trying to convince yourself that you little slut, I’m calling bullshit. Young women drink so that if they hook up with a guy they can blame it on being too drunk. Young men drink so that if they get rejected by a girl they can blame it on being too drunk. Let’s face it, alcohol is the ultimate excuse to be a huge whore.
Now that we’ve established that alcohol is simply a stepping stone for smashing, I would like to discuss one of alcohol’s most unfortunate, but hilarious side-effects: feelers. What is a feeler you might ask?
1. A form of non-verbal communication including text message, facebook chat, or even (in dire situations) email for the purpose of luring a potential sexual partner into sexual activity; usually occuring between the hours of 1:00-3:00 AM
2. A message that is subtle in intention to the sender, but is actually horribly blatant in intention to the recipient
3. A method of abolishing any shred of hope with a particular love interest
Let’s be honest, we’ve all resorted to feelers when the post-party hook up opportunities are looking bleak. We’ve all endured the consequences the morning after. We’ve all had to do damage control. Feelers are an inherent component of Garbage Time. But I’m not here to point fingers, I want the world to embrace the shame that is achieved through feelers and for us to be able to laugh at our own absurdities. To lead by example, I’ve decided to volunteer and show you guys a bit of my (notoriously bad) feeler history. Through my own experiences, I will also attempt to classify the types of feelers. The following screenshots are 100% real conversations–and just a tiny fraction of the damage I’ve done over the past several years. Don’t try this at home.
1. The so-close-but-yet-so-far feeler. Shame level = 4.5
2. The back-and-forth-until-failure feeler. Shame level = 3
3. The can’t-tell-you’re-avoiding-me feeler. Shame level = 6
Okay, so I walked all the way over there just to meet up with you and you left before I got there. Cool. Fuck you. And I was polite too.
4. The she-doesn’t-realize-it’s-a-feeler-right-away feeler. Shame level = 10
5. The way-too-confident-I-can-land-this-one feeler. Shame level = 7.5
I honestly thought I had this one in the bag. Guess I suck.
6. The terrible-attempt-at-comedy-to-diffuse-the-forwardness feeler. Shame level = 8
7. The shitty-response-makes-me-feel-even-shittier feeler. Shame level = 9.5
Well fuck. You’re flying to a different country to eliminate all chances of sleeping with me. I guess I’m going to just go hide in a corner and swallow some razor blades.
8. The I’m-not-sure-who-this-is-but-fuck-it-I’m-down feeler. Shame level = 2
She didn’t know who I was either. Lose-lose situation.
9. The way-too-forward feeler. Shame level = 4
I might as well have said: “hey, I wan’t to dress you up like mickey mouse and chase you around the house naked before I corner you and stroke your butthole.”
10. The let’s-smoke-because-it-will-somehow-lead-to-sex feeler. Shame level = 2.5
11. The get-fucking-owned feeler. Shame level = infinity
I‘m never bringing my phone out with me ever again. I hate phones. I hate my life.
Feelers. Not #geared.