I went to this punk rock show in LA in fall 1981. I talked to this 15 year old girl, a blond punker chick, who was sitting on a low wall outside the place. She said her Dad had brought here there. She was swinging her legs back and forth like a teenager. She kept talking about fags and faggots the whole time I was talking to her. Each time she said it, she looked me dead on in the eye. I think she was calling me a faggot, but at the same time had a dead-on blank frozen robot stare in her eyes.
She was calling me a fag, but she also wanted to fuck me. Tug of war in her head. What’s a girl to do? Females have contradictory thoughts like this going on all the time, and its very hard for them to sort them out and try to make sense of them.
I think an essence of the Female Character is Conflict between Contradictory Feelings. One part of her is pulling her one way, and the other part of her is pulling her the other way. All of this mental jumble is probably pretty confusing. They’re probably trying to untie these mental knots all the time, but being in the middle of a tug of war like that would drive anyone nuts. That may be why they seem nutty a fair amount of the time. All those wild contradictory feelings going this way and that all the time would drive anyone nuts.
If you’re Chad, a lot of women don’t particularly care if you look or seem faggy. Sometimes I wonder if they care if you are faggy. Some of the most fagged out men I met in LA, including one totally obvious haunted closet case, had the hottest girlfriends you’ll see.
Chad’s looks just blind women to everything else about him. Nothing else matters but that damned pretty face. They overlook it all, at least at first. I think Chad’s looks are literally intoxicating to women. So women are in sense drunk or high out of their minds when they first hook up with Chad, and they’re not really in control of themselves anymore. They’re entranced by those hot looks so deeply that they can’t think straight and they overlook all of his flaws, at least for a while.
I saw her later at a punk concert with the Angry Samoans in the San Fernando Valley in Summer 1982. She was sitting on this table-like thing in the concert hall, literally chewing and smacking and blowing bubbles with bubble gum, the stereotypical teenage girl. But she was mature far beyond her age and hanging out at nightclubs where almost everyone was an adult. She was 15 going on 30, face it. She’s hanging out at punk rock adult nightclubs all the time full of degenerate punk rockers, and she’s hot. You don’t think she’s going to get fucked by one of those young degenerate nihilist punker guys at some point? She threw herself into the cauldron. She’s liable to get cooked.
After the show, my friend and I saw her and her friends in the parking lot and went over and talked to them. She stopped and had a dead frozen stare. Her friends could care less that she was talking to a couple of young men. They were all probably teen going on 30 too. She also seemed to be drawing slowly closer to me as if some force field was sucking her towards me. She was locked into me like radar so bad you would almost have to pull her to get her outside of my orbit. I could have easily gotten her number, but I chickened out.
My friend looked a bit concerned as we walked away. “Bob, don’t you think she’s a little young? She’s 15 years old, man.” I shrugged my shoulders.
I was living in the Valley and so was she, with her Dad. I think she was in Sylmar. I was in Van Nuys. I could have easily gotten her number and dated her, and I’m pretty sure I could have had sex with her. And back then, I’m sad to say that I would have definitely done it. It’s true that she was 15 and I was 24, but back in 1982, no one much cared about that.
I haven’t had the slightest thing to do with those girls since then or for three years prior. I’m glad I quit those girls when I was so young because if I would have kept doing it I would have so much more to feel guilty about and live down in these manic days of frenzied sex panics. Of course I’ve sometimes felt that I would like to, but the penalties are so insane that you have to control yourself.
Whenever a woman seems to go into a robot-like trance and gives you that blank frozen stare, it only means one thing. It means she likes you! As in, really, really likes you. As in, she’s in love with you, she wants to fuck you, you’re making her horny, she wants to have a romantic/sexual relationship with you. Whenever you see a woman staring at you like that, jump on it fast and do something. Go talk to her. Get her phone number.
Now, if you make a poor performance, she will leave.
I remember when I was 27 at the peak of my looks in Summer 1984 or 85, and I was sitting on an island in the Carson Mall, probably on a weekend. I haven’t the faintest idea why I was there. I was stoned out of my skull like I was every weekend.
I sat there for an hour or two. One after the other, a young single woman would lock eyes on me, go into the frozen robot trance, and head straight for my island as if she were under remote control. I think three of them did that in the course of an hour or two. These women kept homing in on my like radar and being remote-controlled to my island. At the time, I didn’t know that when a woman acts like that, it means she wants to fuck. Period. You’re making her horny. Period. Turned out these were all single Moms in their late 20’s to early 30’s.
Unfortunately, my head was a complete mess at the time, and I was in the middle of what was basically a nervous breakdown that went on for 3-4 years. Even worse, it was rather obvious to anyone who looked that my head was fucked, and it was turning people off everywhere. You can’t always hide mental illness. So at the mall that day, we would talk for a bit and after a bit they would get a concerned look on their face. Soon they would get tuned off and leave.
So you see, just because she goes into autopilot when she sees you, it doesn’t mean you’ve got her. You can still blow it if you don’t play your cards right.
This was happening to me all the time back then, but I was still connecting with some women, and I was definitely dating a lot and having a lot of sex. Apparently I looked really good back then, so the killer looks were getting me laid despite my screwed head. I’m not sure if women care that much if Chad is nuts. Of course they do care, and it throws a monkey wrench into things pretty badly, but Crazy Chad still probably does better than your AFC as long as he’s not too far gone.
Looking back on it, I probably could have fucked all three or four of them. Just ask to go to her apartment from the mall, and it’s done. That’s how easy it is to pick up a woman in the daytime if you’ve got the Looks and Game. Or get her number at least.
I almost never get these dead-on blank frozen robot zombie entranced looks anymore. I got one recently from a young woman at a coffee shop though. It’s the first time I’ve gotten that look in it seems like years. I wonder what she means by that. She’s been extremely friendly ever since. I think I will try to find out.
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