Finishing It Off.

Explanation: Well anybody who knows me will get who this is about after about ten seconds of reading what follows. This is however intended to be part of a much larger project which I feel has a great deal of promise but will also need a great deal of work to even complete, but I'll be updating the blog with news of that soon. For the meantime here's the latest, well, anything that I've written and one I'm particularly proud of.

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You know it’s funny to think of him as dead. Even now, when you know damn well he’s dead cause he hasn’t been around to call you a motherfucker OR a cunt for around 2 months. I don’t want to apply myself to that cheesy school of thought whereby he isn’t actually “dead” note the speech marks because he lives on in my memory. That to be seems to be such a stupid approach to the whole thing. People are always in your memory. Jesus when he was alive I remembered the stupid things he did daily, the triumphs as well. Death has just left me with nothing but the memories. With him not here, what else do I have left? 

But still it’s a very funny thing to think of your friend as dead. Sometimes when my mind idles I wonder where he must be still, what he might be doing then the logical part of my brain kicks in with the realization that he’s around 5 miles away underneath six feet of earth slowly decomposing. Not the most romantic of thoughts I will grant you, but logic is rarely a nicety is it?

No it’s not that he’s still here in memories, it’s that he’s still there in my head somewhere. In everyday life he still exists. Take for example the end of the bar.

The end of the bar was less the end of the bar and more a serene respite from work that was conveniently located some 5 feet away from where we worked. The end of it is warped and chipped from the countless spills, wet glasses and piles of washed cutlery set upon it. It’s the filthiest most unkempt corner of the entire bar but it was ours. It was our little place. The hours spent there are countless. To the point where it seems that the most part of work was spent there. There was always a very comfortable routine to it. Send out the last of the checks, clean down the sides, one sweeps, one does pots, we both mop out and one of us orders two pints of Carlsberg when we’ve mopped to the exit door. Then you go up and get changed laughing about the events of the night, whatever they may be and go down. In routine the first pint is always the best tasting, the coldest, the most satisfying. You drink it unlike any of the rest of them. You drink it with a sense of direct urgency. It’s an urgency born both from thirst and stress equally we decided one night when we both happened to question it at the same time.

And there you’d stand. Stood at the end of the bar drinking yourself into a small oblivion and feeling like you’d live forever. Life is full of small ironies that way. At the end of the bar you always had this sense of immortality in the fact that no matter what had gone wrong before that was now set perfectly right by the consumption, the heavy consumption of alcohol. There was also the oddest sense of unity, a sense never apparent when we were both alive, it’s funny how you only notice these things when one of you is dead. You both knew you were looking forward to this pint at the end of the bar all fucking night or all fucking day as applied. Then you’d neither say anything for those first few mouthfuls as you just sort of…savoured being there. That’s one of those incredibly odd things you realize when somebody close to you dies, you slowly gain a little more appreciation for those million moments in day where you are just simply glad to be exactly where you are stood. Those enchantingly tiny seconds of every single day where you are just happy to be where you are. The horrible thing to admit about this situation is that being around my friend, these moments came every single time I finished work and stood there at the end of the bar with him. 

Looking over it as the alive party in this situation you realize that when it was happening to you, you never realized. This leads you to realize that the greatest moments in life, the most perfect, the most content moments in life tend to completely pass you by. You spend your whole life hungering for being content or having lived in that perfect moment where everything is just…right. You hunt for them daily and never realize that you’re shooting past the target. We spend so many days festering on the worst part of the day, week. We look so much at the days when we have no money and payday is just a vague dot on the horizon. We pull ourselves through every lonely day of being single, each morning we don’t wake up with whoever next to us. Then when we wake up next to that person, when we’re with somebody we just find something else negative to focus on. I guess we have to scrape the gutter in order to appreciate the stars. What astonishes me now, looking over it, two months after he has died is that I never ever realized how perfect those small moments at the end of the bar were. But I suppose it’s forgivable in it’s way. How many times during the course of the day do you really take to think “What if this never happened again?”. That’s exactly what happens when one of your closest friends dies, you cold turkey in a sense, from the happy little moments. Thus in the most human of ways we can only realize the beauty of things that are dead, the serenity in more peaceful moments. 

I don’t know what I’m meant to say here. What little truism I’m supposed to comb from it. That’s what makes me alive and that’s what makes me human, I will never ever realize how great I have everything for me in this moment until it is all stripped away from me. I’ll never know I was sleeping in a cloud until I’m brought back down to earth. 

I opened saying how funny it was to think he was dead but truthfully, as of this moment I’m slowly realizing what an incredibly truant gift it is to be alive and to be able to experience this all. If I was a cheesier person I might say that is his gift to us all, but really he didn’t intend for that. It’s not a wake up call either, his death isn’t a fucking alarm clock to any of us.

I don’t know why I wrote any of this now. I suppose more so than anything else I guess I just miss my friend. I can’t be held to blame for that, it’s the most human of mistakes to not appreciate what is around you everyday.

The end of that bar is dry now. I won’t ever laugh with him on the end of it ever again, I’ll never again have those precious little parts of the day when you can simply relax and join together in the decadent art of drowning away stress in pints of beer. I’ll never have that ever again but it’s ok. Not because he’s alive in my memories, not because he’s made me wake up to what’s around me, these things are a given.

It’s because that whilst it’s funny to think of him as dead, all of a sudden it’s even funnier to think of myself as being alive.

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After a tough couple of months in many respect's I'm intending to bring the blog back better than it ever has been. I'm planning for a couple week's hiatus to write some new stuff and then I'll be back, apologies to my Newbury peep's.

Sean Rodrieguez' Links: Showing you Random crap since Today

From the fantastic www.thingsbearslove.com

Fantastic in it's hilarious simplicity, all of the things bears love can be purchased on a T-Shirt, which I intend to purchase the next time I've got some spare cash. This, however, is my desktop background for the meantime.

Sean Rodrieguez: Explains Complex, Meaningful Lyrics.

Hello and welcome to "Sean Rodrieguez Explains Complex, Meaningful Lyrics. In this segment I hope to answer some questions some of you may have over the lyrics of some of the best music ever written. From analyzing the string sections of Strauss or the fiery anger of Bruce Springsteen.

Many people know the words to the great songs and even more sing along to them whenever they get the chance. But what good is this if people don't know the meanings behind the words? The very raison d'etre of the lyrics themselves? Well as a well renowned musical genius and a man whose analytical skills get him laid frantically at English Literature exams, I've taken it upon myself to help you all understand better the lyrics to a few hand picked songs that I feel are particularly complex and meaningful. Perhaps I'll go through the psychadelic genius of Pink Floyd, the sublime sound of The Beach Boys or the subtle hidden meanings of Morrissey. But this week I'll be covering...

                                 Womanizer by Britney Spears

A devillishly complex song, Britney Spears once again regailed us with her lyrical abilities with the recent smash hit "Womanizer". The song reached number 1 in Eleven different countries charts, including Israel which is widely known as the home of great music. When the video for Womanizer first hit YouTube it was played over 7,000,000 times in the first 48 hours in the United Kingdom alone and at the time of writing has been viewed 60.5 million times overall. The Beatles never did that and thus I feel that is a sign of Britney Spears lyrical superiority. So with out further to do, onto the analysis.

Analysis.

It is important before you can truly understand the lyrics to this piece that you understand the characters involved, here is a brief profile of them all:

Womanizer - Male, Likes: Puppets, Women, Using Women for sex (sex that the women involved do not enjoy in the least because he is a womanizer)

Britney Spears - Female, Powerful, Intelligent and she KNOWS just what YOU are are are.

With that in mind the story and emotion behind the lyrics is much easier to understand. Here, let's examine the first stanza.

"Superstar 
Where you from, how's it going?" 

Analysis: Britney has just met a "Superstar" and would like to know his hometown and how his day is going. However these lines leave us as an audience with many questions. Is Britney's use of the title "Superstar" sarcastic? Is she commenting on the mans illusions of grandeur or the terrible chauvinistic world in which she co-exists with this man? 

"I know you 
Gotta clue, what you're doing?"

Analysis: But the folly of the above lines is revealed here as Britney reveals that she knows the male antagonist and she knows the motives of his actions.  

"You can play brand new to all the other chicks out here 
But I know what you are, what you are, baby"

Analysis: Britney claims that he can try his spurious games of turning up in the vicinity and having a penis with other women, but she knows what he is really planning

Just when you thought that first stanza wasn't a sledgehammer cracking your very being open to possibilities of music as the great communicator of emotions, Britney then unleashes herself into this next stanza

"Look at you 
Gettin' more than just re-up 
Baby, you 
Got all the puppets with their strings up 
Fakin' like a good one, but I call 'em like I see 'em 
I know what you are, what you are, baby"

Analysis: Britney orders the Womanizer to look at himself. We as an audience then learn that he is apparently a puppeteer, whether or not it's his career or if he's simply a Punch and Judy affecionado we do not yet know, this helps create suspense within the piece. Apparently the man is trying to not appear like a puppeteer but Britney see's through this thin disguise and reiterates for the second time to him that she knows what he is planning. As an audience we are now on the cusp of our seats waiting for her to reveal this man's terrible secret.

"Womanizer
Woman-Womanizer
You're a womanizer
Oh Womanizer
Oh You're a Womanizer Baby
You, You You Are
You, You You Are
Womanizer, Womanizer, Womanizer"

Analysis: Britney herein reveals that the man is a Womanizer, that he Womanizes Women and then reiterates for effect the fact that he is, in fact, a Womanizer. Then she seems to knowingly exclaim that he is a Womanizer with the use of "Oh Womanizer" and then for the fifth time let's us know that he is in fact a Womanizer. Then so as to avoid confusion she points out to us six times in eight words just who is a Womanizer (You). She clearly doesn't think much of the man in questions intelligence as she then tells him three more times that he's a Womanizer. This is an incredibly emotional reveal from Britney as we the audience did not in fact know upto this point in the song just what this man was (A Womanizer).

"Boy don't try to front I I know just just what you are are are 
Boy don't try to front I I know just just what you are are are"

Analysis: Britney then reiterates that he should not front (which is youthful terminology for putting up a false pretence) because Britney  knows, despite her difficulty here in expressing herself due to an unfortunate stutter presumably  due to the intense emotion involved, just what the man is. 

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From this examination of the first quarter of the song I feel the main idealogy and meaning behind this song can be clearly identified. The man in question is a Womanizer and Britney knows just what he is. 

Fun Fact: Britney uses the word "Womanizer" 42 times in this song. This song is 3 minutes and 45 seconds long. That's 235 seconds. Which means Britney averages a "Womanizer" every 5.5 seconds in this song.

This is an intensely meaningful song that I feel says a great deal about Male-Female relations in this crazy cooped up modern world. Shown beautifully in her choice of costume for the beginning of the video for this lyrical masterpiece:

Analysis: DAYUM LOOK AT THAT BOOTAY.

This has been Sean Rodrieguez Explains Complex Meaningful Lyrics. I hope you have learnt a little something today about this song that you didn't previously understand. It's a deep, meaningful ballad that I feel has an undeniable strength in it's choice of words.

Well I've been Sean Rodrieguez, you, you,you have, you, you, have been a great audience.

Now please go and watch this much better set of musicians:  

Sean Rodrieguez Writes: An Apology

Dear Loyal Readers and my Newbury Peeps,

I apologize for the distinct lack of updates over the previous two weeks, it's not because I've given up writing for this most awesome of pages, I merely have a college exam coming up (tomorrow in fact) and I've been running around like an idiot applying for University (Stafford, Keele, De Montford, Chester and Salford.)

I'll be back with new material very soon when I no longer have to give a shit about knowing about singular personal pronoun's, active verbs and the date Samuel Johnson published the first English Dictionary thus spawning standardized spelling and allowed for deeper analysis (heh, ANALysis) of the text. Samuel Johnson published the first dictionary in 1755 in case you were wondering.

I'd like to thank any of you reading this on any regular basis and for those of you I know are sharing the site with. Also I'd like to personally thank the lone person from Sydney, Australia for visiting the site. Worldwide Fame Baby!

By way of apology here is a picture of a piglet wearing Wellington boots:

Awwww!

Love,

Sean Jose Jesus Rodrieguez.

Dating for Idiot's Part 3

Dating for Idiot’s Part 3: Surviving a Relationship WITHOUT ANY Violent Convictions.

Or

Shut The Fuck Up Already I Didn’t Fucking Look At Her.

Congratulations today is the first day of the rest of your life the way she envisioned it. So you’ve got yourself into a relationship, which is kind of like getting sent to jail in a game of monopoly, it’s a minor pause before you start trying to buy something else for minimal cost… that metaphor made no sense.

Which leads me to my other opening point: You will slowly lose your mind over the course of the coming months. Sure you have what is graciously referred to the “Honeymoon” period which basically can be translated as “Fucking Each Other Hasn’t Got Repetitive Yet” but it’s short lived like my erection after a bottle of tequila. 

Eventually those eyes that held the key to everything you thought you needed will be filled with intense rage because you said that Hollyoaks didn’t have a logical plot line, they’ll be filling with tears every time you say her best friend looks good tonight. That shapely body that first drew you to her like she was wearing a suit of armour and you had a magnet on your dick will soon be used to essentially bribe you into attending meals for your “5 and 3 weeks anniversary”. Her mind which spawned such stunning personality that you were dumb struck upon first meeting her has now apparently been overtaken by a malevolent force with two main goals. First, to turn you slowly insane. Second, to make you believe that it’s YOUR fault you turned insane. 

You don’t even want to know what the erogenous zones will do to you, I don’t know if you can take it yet.

You can’t take it yet because you haven’t read the latest and greatest advice from a man who’s in the process of inventing a GPS system that tells you where her clitoris is from the other side of the room. A man who was recently referred to as “The #1 Man You Would Sleep With If The Vibrator Broke On A Desert Island”. The following is the secrets that I have slowly perfected over years of arduous relationships. I was once like you. I know it’s hard to believe but work with me here. I was once the guy who’s got his neck tied to his shoelaces so he can’t look at anybody else when he’s out. I fought my way out with my patented system of rules, which I now bestow upon you, kind reader for being SuperAwesome enough to read this blog.

So check if it’s OK with her and then let’s begin.

Rule #1: Accept That She Will Never Trust You BUT Don’t Take No Shit.
Ok so she’s tied you down now and I don’t mean in the kinky way where you have to use safe words to escape when she’s read the sex tips wrong and is pouring boiled wax onto your bare chest. She’s got you tied down in the sense that this women now for all intent’s and purposes owns your testicles. You may as well copyright a picture of them in her name. 

The problem with getting with a girl is, unlike when you’re single, they notice every single fucking thing you do. Thus this means you will inevitably do something that she doesn’t agree with. This will usually occur shortly after your feet touch the carpet rolling out of bed in the morning and end when one of you is dead or in a coma. You have to see things the way she sees things just without the hormones. You’ll quickly learn this is an impossibility. 

They just don’t see things the same way as you, this is why they find Pop Idol interesting and give a flying fuck what celebrities are wearing. It took me years of painstaking accusations and this is by no means concrete but the following is a rough translation guide of she thinks you’re doing when you say:

You Say: I’m just off out for a few pints with the lads.
She Thinks: He’s clearly lying, his friends are all layabout evil bastards intent on turning him against me. He’s going to go the nearest brothel whereby his friends will pay for a wild orgy of people who look just like that girl I don’t like.

You Say: I’m going to work.
She Thinks: He’s going to pull up, clock in and then proceed to have wild photocopier sex with that secretary who always looks at me funny.

You Say: I’m going to live in a remote monastery with some monks.
She Thinks: It’s a monastery of nymphomaniac monks who all look like that girl off The OC. Urgh, I just can’t watch that show now.

You Say: I’m going out to buy you a large gift to show my undying love for you.
She Thinks: He’s going to fuck the girl who work’s at Thornton’s and bribe me with a box of Continental with a gift tag he wrote with her pen in the car on the way back here.

As you can see gentlemen, you’re royally fucked. Basically her main tactic of stopping you from fucking any girl other than her is to automatically assume that you’re fucking every girl but her. The main thing to remember is NEVER admit that you’re actually fucking every girl AND her, it doesn’t go down well, trust me. 

Let her accuse you a few times and explain calmly and carefully that you are not in fact doing anything wrong by doing exactly what you did 6 months ago when she didn’t give a flying fuck where you were. She’ll continue to accuse you. Now it’s time to display masculinity in order to set her straight. 

Chicks dig masculinity trust me. 

The next time she accuses you of something like this calmly pick up the TV set and launch it through the window and if she has any pets viciously slaughter them and then CALMLY explain that you didn’t want to do that but she wasn’t listening to you. She’ll lock herself in another room, call her best friend and you can have a nice casual beer and cigarette whilst you text that other girl in peace. Just like she would do, if you only gave her the chance, which leads me to:

Rule #2: If you can’t see her, she’s fucking somebody else.
The rule says it all really. Remember that nice guy she introduced you to last time you dared to go drinking with her without your own friends. The one who was so funny and such a good friend? Yeah the second you aren’t there she’s going to be doing some freaky shit with him and biting the teddy bear you brought her to apologize for going out with your friends and having a good time. 

Trusting a girl you can’t see is like looking a tornado heading straight toward you, turning your back to it and saying “oh well it probably won’t hit ME”. This is retarded. There’s a very simple method of dealing with this however I told you that you wouldn’t get any violent convictions. 

Beyond that, unfortunately, you are essentially royally fucked. I never said a relationship would be easy. 

You have to deal with it like a cold by which I mean you treat the symptoms not the virus. Every time you leave her alone leave some kind of ingenius booby trap in your wake. Duct tape some thumb tacks onto your side of the bed, set up a cunning spring assisted claw hammer trap that triggers when the headboard hits the wall. The best trap I’ve found is to SAY you’re going out and then climb into the attic and wait on the space of roof above your bed. If you hear any noise jump through the floor holding a sledgehammer whilst screaming wild obscenities. 

Besides that you’re really on your own sir. I’m trying to figure out a shock collar to deter women from doing this but the fucking fashion season’s keep changing every time I perfect the design. 

Rule #3 For The Love Of Christ Don’t Mention Their Weight.

This includes:

- Saying another girl looks thin.
- Saying another object looks thin.
- Saying anything that means “light”. If a bag is light then simply say “Well this bag weighs as much as you!”
- Saying thin in any context not involving her.
- Say anything, ANYTHING about heavy weights or something that connotes “Heavy” around her. I’m sorry, you’ll never eat a Whopper at Burger King around her due to this.

There are drug dealers less concerned with weight than most women. Often you will hear this immortal phrase: “I Feel Fat”. DO NOT SAY:

- Well that’s a stunning coincidence because you look fat.
- Well that’s kind of what happens when you eat 3 kilograms of chocolate.
- Well you’re not exactly athletic.
- YARRR thar be whales ahoy! Drop the anchor! (whereby you pick up and drop her arm)

Simply reassure her in a calming tone, something along the lines of:

- Don’t worry we’re entering an economic depression, you’ll HAVE to lose weight soon.
- I happen to know a great liposuctionist.
- I think the idea of a crash pad for my pelvis during sex is great.
- Don’t worry, you look beautiful.

It doesn’t really matter which of the above you choose because she won’t believe you. It’s here that I want you to go to your happy place. Think of puppies holding hands, think of kittens playing hula hoop, think of two giraffe’s playing “header tennis” with a football. 

Just distance yourself because now for at least the next hour she’ll talk at great length about her weight. You advice here is the same as your advice about her buying clothes: she will ask for it but pay zero fucking attention whatsoever to what you said. 

Just prepare yourself to calm your homicidal tendencies for the next time she says “I feel fat” around one of her female friends and they say exactly what you say and your girlfriend proceeds to gush and proclaim her love for her. Take revenge for this. The next time you’re making sweet love to her, in the foreplay tell her that you can’t wait to harpoon her.

Rule #4: You Aren’t Ever Going To “Get” Her TV Shows/Magazines.
Yes it is entirely believable that a man would get a map of a prison tattooed onto himself, get sent to prison and then break out just to save his brother rather than say, oh, going to see him in visiting hours and getting on with his life. It’s always highly viable that they’ll both be tall, muscular, good looking and total arseholes that every woman would likely rape given a Viagra and a bed. 

It’s also entirely possible that four women who live in New York can get laid more individually than every single person you know ever will in their entire lives. They’ll also juggle high powered jobs and have lots of time to shop as well. Also the best looking one will get laid the least. It’s completely believable shut the fuck up.

Gay people are funny too. Gay people all also know fashion and clothes really fucking well and want nothing more than to be best friends with the gender they optionally chose not to mate with. They’ll all be really flamboyant and be the comforting fe/male presence when any women in a 50 yard radius is single or in the middle of a break up.

Yes it is a good use of our trees to create paper on which to print 300 + pages of pictures of clothes and shoes that they will never, ever purchase but rather look at longingly like a caged lion being offered a sirloin steak with a side of paralysed zebra.

It doesn’t make sense, but for the love of almighty god just let them have their illusions, shut up and buy them the fucking box sets for Christmas.


Rule#5: They aren’t stupid, Why are you talking to them like they’re stupid?!
As if the above wasn’t already like trying to navigate a minefield whilst wearing stilts and being chased by a lion whose mother you just insulted, you have to watch your patronization. 
Now whilst I’m a strong advocate of the ideal that patronization is the most fun you can have with a woman that doesn’t involve broken bed slats followed by a smirk and a cigarette, if you want to survive the relationship it’s not recommended. 

Bear in mind that women very often confuse honesty with patronization. So your best bet is to just never be honest or better still to just never communicate with her on any medium other than a Birthday, Christmas or Valentines card.  

Because if you tell her she just did or said something incredibly stupid it might well be true but telling her isn’t honesty it’s patronizing her. A girl could walk into the path of a speeding truck and if you told her during her recovery it was a pretty stupid thing to do, you can expect a mood.

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Now I’m not saying these things are easy to achieve. You probably now understand why your father was so unhappy/angry/alcoholic all through your childhood. You probably get why men celebrate quite so hard at stag parties. 

Film and Literature would have you believe that love is some kind of beautiful, bountiful thing that you’re supposed to embrace. The truth sadly is that whilst a relationship is like sex on a fire hose to you, it’s like a licence to fuck you up anytime she pleases to her PLUS she gets the sex. So in essence it’s like embracing a ball of razor wire. 

But this is what you get when you give women equality so my dad tells me. Surviving a relationship comes down to these above five rules more often than not. The depressing thing about these things is that there’s a million other little things you learn on your own. They’re usually learnt via a long drawn out argument that solves or proves nothing and leaves none of you any the wiser about each other. 

You tread your own little path on the minefield that is a relationship. The prize for making it through is simply a very tired woman who simply cannot be bothered to criticize your faults anymore and grudgingly accepts them and this, my friends is what marriage is. 

You don’t want to get married though. As the man I was educated in women by once said “Son don’t get married because then the next thing you know you’re paying for an idiot like you to attend college to avoid a divorce.” 

He was a loving man my father.

But you’re in luck because as always I’ve got you covered my lucky readers and fans. If you’re already contemplating caving your girlfriends head in with her latest pair of New Look heels then have I got the right guide for you next…

Tune in Next Time For The Final Part Of Our Guide Series: Dating for Idiot’s Part 4: Breaking Up.

Dating For Idiots: Part 2

Forming a "Relationship".

So the first date went well. She fell like a double leg amputee patient negotiating a large set of stairs for your boyish charm, viper like wit, exquisite sense of style and your penis that would put a sperm whale to shame in the showers. Of course she did, this is to be expected when one follows the Rodrieguez Guides but you now will find yourself asking; “What happens next?”

Well of course, as a man of intense passion and romance, as a boiling over saucepan of sheer male hormones, as a man with so much testosterone I once one punched a grizzly bear for looking at me funny, I know what comes next. 

What you have to do now is form a relationship.

You don’t, I suppose, HAVE to form a relationship. Some men may prefer tagging their dates best friend next, start the slow arduous task of having one night stands with the rest of her family or even start going to singles nights to pick up lonely fat chicks with inferiority complexes. These are all perfectly understandable options that I inherently endorse especially the charity of banging fat girls, it being recently discovered in a scientific study that every time a fat girl gets laid Jesus smiles a little. 

But these options are not necessarily the correct option.

The thing that most men overlook about relationships is that it’s essentially like having sex not on tap as the saying goes, it’s like have sex on fucking fire hose set to full. Now some men (whom are gay) will point out the emotions involved. The feeling of contentment and extreme happiness of being somebody who you love, the great times you can spend together, the feelings you can share. These are generally the men who don’t like having regular sex with females (because they are gay) because they don’t read guides like this. I mean Christ they probably even try to “make love”…

Regardless the following is going help you to steer your battle cruiser of love into her pearl harbour so frequently you’ll be known to all your friends as “The Admiral”. Building a relationship can take patience and requires nerves of steel so that you don’t lose it and start beating her over the head with a rolled up copy of her Cosmo when she tries to get you to watch Will & Grace. This guide can’t teach you these things. The gift of causing severe brain haemorrhages with a magazine that’s all about (from what I’ve gathered) clothes, how men suck and how to make men want you is a rare one. 

But don’t be glum, chum! With my technique soon to be published in Cosmo’s “Sexiest Sexist Male Bastards” column, you probably won’t even need to strike her. 

Unless it’s for fun of course.

Section 1: Making That First Step.
So the date went well. You’ve dropped her off at the door, she didn’t sleep with you because you only had £30 on you and didn’t want to haggle. You’re in position to strike like a cobra playing Wii Sport’s bowling. 

As soon as her door shuts on that last sweet goodbye, head home. Camping in her front garden, whilst it shows dedication to her, is sadly illegal. It’s also not recommended to pick the door lock on her house later that night, slip into bed next to her sleeping body and explain it with “I missed you” when she awakes screaming. Trust me. 

No you have to play it cool and casual. Women love a man who’s aloof. Go home and go about your life. Watch some TV, maybe a film, read a book, take a relaxing shower and think about how awesome you are. Anyway after 20 minutes have passed, call her house. If she doesn’t answer it slam the phone down, wait five seconds and redial. She’ll answer eventually. When she does answer, don’t waste words. Tell her that you love her and you miss her, that you want to be with her and any other decent lies you can come up with. 

This will catch the female off guard because you’re sending her mixed signals and women can only notice one emotion at a time. Any more than one and they tend malfunction and have to drink wine with their friends and call you an arsehole. Now the girl will think you’re displaying a weakness by showing emotion. Let her have her petty games, play along as a being of superior intellect. She’ll tell you that you’re a really nice guy but she:

- Just doesn’t know you well enough yet.
- Thinks of you as more of a friend.
- Is married/arranged to be married/in a relationship/a mail order bride.
- Is gay (don’t be alarmed by this unless she didn’t wear make up to the date)
 

These are all complete fallacies. If she didn’t want to be bound to you for the foreseeable future then she would never have let you pay for the dinner at the first date. She’s simply trying to outwit you the best way a woman can: by lying. 

But you are prepared.

Let her finish telling you one of the above reasons. 

(NOTE: Which can take anywhere up to half a day as she explains her emotions and probably cites previous examples of where there was a guy like you and she took a chance and it didn’t work out and she got hurt and she doesn’t want to make herself vulner…etc. So I recommend recording a clip of you saying “Alright” and “I understand”, set it to repeat every minute and go start a hobby, ship building worked for me.) 

Letting her finish is important because if she thinks your listening you’ll boost your status with her even more because then she’ll think you’re “sensitive” and she doesn’t mean after an orgasm. She means in the emotionally involved way, little do they realize men have long since evolved past the need for any emotions. When she’s finished make a few anguished sobbing sounds and hang up, then go make yourself a large manly sandwich, you’ve earnt it.

We are now playing on the second most reliable emotion a woman can display “Guilt over things she hasn’t actually done.” Get comfortable exploiting this, it’ll come in handy during the relationship. 

Part 2: The Seduction Method That’s Like Shooting Retarded Fish In a Barrel That Worry If Their Outfit Goes as They Bleed to Death.
 
Give it a day exactly from the moment you hung up. She WILL call (if she doesn’t then just trust me on this, she had a cock). 

When you finally decide to answer her call, she’ll explain that she feels bad and that she hopes that her “rejecting” you isn’t going to make things weird between you. React as though she told you something really ordinary, as though she just commented on the weather, a current news event or how badly she wants to tear off your boxers with her teeth like a rabid jackal. 

I find saying “Oh”, “That’s nice” or “Jesus Christ would you shut the fuck up” works. Whatever you do, do not accept her apology. Don’t say you’ve forgiven her, this helps keep her right on the edge of the cliff where at the base of the fall is your penis. 

Then say “So do you want to go out sometime?”
She’ll respond affirmatively.
Then say “Yeah I’ll call you when I’ve got some spare time ok? Bye.”
WAIT for her to begin saying goodbye then hang up halfway through her saying the word.

Now we’re in control. Notice that the females power, though feeble at it’s peak relative to your male prowess, is now stripped away. Thus you learn:

Rule #1 Of Starting a Relationship: Strike when they are at their weakest. 

As you wield the power now feel free to do whatever the fuck you want to really, just don’t call her. If you’re on fire and she’s got the bucket of water, just act cool until you either die or pass out from the pain. If our almighty saviour Zeus was to come down from the heavens and says he’ll bitch slap you with lightning bolts if you don’t call her, refuse and spit on him. If Mike Tyson threatens you with some “cellblock loving” then goddamn it man you bite into that bar of soap and take it like a champ, cause this is all for a higher cause. 

If she calls you, do not pick up. If she bumps into you on the high street, shield your vision from her and run frantically away screaming “LALALALA” so you can’t hear her yelling out for you to come back. If by some insane, incredible coincidence you end up in the same social situation as her that you can’t escape then be sure to answer her every sentence with “The Three Magic Words.” 

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

Example:
Her: Oh..hi…Ralph? Ralph!! Hi!!
After a quick glance for escape routes you discover that you’re at a bar and last orders is just finishing. You weigh up your options and decide to grit it out. But it’s ok, You’ve read this guide
Her: Wow! I haven’t seen you for about…2 weeks? Has it been 2 weeks?
You: Yeah. Sure. Whatever.
At this point she attempts to hug you, a common trap that you should never fall for. You do the right thing and go completely limp, thus using her power against her and sending her to the floor
Her: Owww! So how’ve you been?
You: Yeah. Sure. Whatever.
Her: I’ve been pretty good in fact I got promot…
You: Yeah. Sure. Whatever.
Her: Well I have to go back to my mates now (LIE) but we should really get together again sometime soon OK?
You: Yeah. Sure Whatever.
She dives onto your face right there at the bar, guaranteed.

And with just those three magical words I’ve just got myself date number two and I’ve demonstrated why the above was worth the anal rape, the lightning bolt injuries and the first degree burns:

Rule #2 of Starting a Relationship: Women love a guy to be an obnoxious, self absorbed prick more than they love Sex and The City.

With this rule absorbed you know now the basically infallible rule of getting women into a relationship.

You see gentlemen, it’s all good being that nice guy who listens to what she say’s, who’s sensitive, who always tells her how pretty and unique she really is and how it’s totally not just about the sex for you at all. It’s all good being the guy who likes all the same things she does and buying her gifts “just because you saw it and thought of her”. It’s fine to go about your appearance with only pleasing that special girl in mind, smelling the way that she wants you to, wearing your hair the way she likes it, squeezing yourself into skinny jeans because she thinks they look good on guys. This is all well and good until you make that great revelation every man comes to make at some point in his life. 

Women don’t have a fucking clue what they want. 

That doesn’t matter at all though because thanks to this guide you just ascertained yourself a relationship and months of carefree rampant sex, god bless you. Who’s glum now chum?

Well give it a few months or so and it’ll be you and you’ll be needing to read the next part of my critically acclaimed “Sean Rodrieguez’ Guides” series:

Dating for Idiot’s Part 3: Surviving a Relationship WITHOUT ANY Violent Convictions.

Sean Rodrieguez' Rehab Diary: Day Six

I awake among a cluster of naked runway models with severe father issues. In my left hand I’m grasping the long neck of a drained bottle of Jose Cuervo my right holds a bottle of Bud Ice that’s dripping it’s last slowly onto sound asleep female midriff. Something is definitely right here…
I get out of bed and walk over a carpet of naked bodies, waking up each one as I step with a shower of profanity and abuse. As a celebrity I’m pretty used to that kind of reaction when I stand on people’s naked girlfriends. I step into a more literal shower and looking over the stunning mass that is myself I realize suddenly I’ve gotten a new tattoo. Despite my usual tattoo of the word “Talent” in bold letters down my left forearm I apparently got “Matthew xvi. 23” down my right forearm at some point last night. 

It never felt so fucking awesome to make a drunken mistake.

Alcohol Intake: FUCK THIS DIARY SHIT.

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 With Special Thanks To: Seb De Turenne for help with the French on day 4 and to all of you who read all the updates. Thanks for reading.