The Endangered Summertime Heartthrob – The American Spectator

In the era of micro-machismo and the extinction of compliments, I want speak up in favor of the old summer heartthrob, an endangered species, harassed by governments, by NGOs, by gender ideologues, by friends of animals, by the Davos Club, by Disney, by woke laws, by the vanishing hitchhiker, by tissue makers, by Melinda Gates, and by the Association of Friends of Artisans of Red Maple Wood Sex Toys (AFARMWST).

But the sun is high, it’s warm, the sea is blue and crystal clear, someone has already opened the hatch of the bunker where millions of beautiful girls hibernate between October and June, and the streets are filled with Miranda Kerr, Kendall Jenner, and Ivanka Trump lookalikes. It is the hour of the heartthrob, the hour of the ladies’ man, the hour to end up in the prison of progressive cancelers, yes, but to be able to say, “What a good time I had!” when lying on the bunk.

When to Compliment

Any time is a good time to say something nice to a woman. But unless you want to end up in jail as soon as the flirting starts, it’s always best to choose an appropriate context: Complimenting the policewoman who’s giving you a DUI may seem like an airtight plan, but if you do, make sure your lawyer is nearby.

An old belief asserts that you can’t flirt at a funeral. It’s absolutely not true. I’ve tried it and it works OK, as long as you keep in mind that the target of your compliments must meet two standards: to be alive, and to not be the widow. My experience is that girls, when sad, fall in love faster. Unlike guys — when we are sad, we get drunk; unlike when we are happy, when what we do is get drunk.

To Whom

It’s wise to flirt sensibly. To compliment the girl who has come out to dump the garbage dressed in a tracksuit — without showering, with no makeup, and looking like she drunk too much rum last night — can turn against you. One of the things that distinguishes the professional flirt from the amateur is that he never compliments without criteria. Somehow, all the women he compliments manage to feel like they are the only girl in the world, at least for a few moments, and smile as only a woman who needs to hear something nice smiles at a man who needs to say something nice to a woman. That quote could be from Alejandro Jodorowsky, but it’s mine.

Women Don’t Need It

That’s a bullshit cliché. Everyone needs compliments, and women are no exception. Feminists insist that girls no longer need men’s approval, as if it were some kind of release from an ancient shackle. But the truth is that those who have been more thoroughly shackled are us guys: The most risqué thing a guy will say to his girlfriend about her outfit is: “That’s nice” (often looking at his cellphone in the meantime), while the smoothest thing my previous girlfriends used to say to me, just before leaving the house, was: “Are you seriously going to let yourself be seen at my friend’s party in that beggar’s jacket, those shoes handed down from your great-grandfather, and those filthy, ratty pants that look like you just came from burning down ATMs and throwing paint at the windows of several multinationals?” 

Remember: The compliment is not “I, as a man and a superior being, allow you to dress like that,” but “As a man, I just fell in love at first sight — what are your plans tonight, hunny?” If the answer is a smile, you graduate to the next level of Flirting. If it’s a slap, we’ll have you in our prayers, along with the others who have taken a bullet for the motherland.

With How Many

The summer heartthrob has a reputation for being with many at the same time. That may be one of the reasons why he is on the verge of extinction. 

I would tell you to focus on one, preferably your own, but if you really want to be a professional flirt, you will have no choice but to whip out your rod and start fishing for everything (Author’s note: There is no hint of metaphor meant in the expression “whip out your rod.”)

Invite or Not

The professional flirt does not have a job. Flirting is a time-consuming activity that is incompatible with an office schedule. The flirt has no money, but he has a good reputation, so his special talent is to be invited. But never let a girl pay for dinner. In general, never do anything so disgusting it would make Hunter Biden puke. 

And, sometimes, it happens that if you meet a radical feminist who insists on paying for dinner, you go ahead and pay the bill, then tell her to send you transfer to fill up your motorcycle’s gas tank or charge her account for the kegs of beer they deliver to your home every week.

The Old-Fashioned Kind

Progressive fashion magazines insist that men who are cool now are effeminate, androgynous, and dressed in eco-friendly clothes with “no sheep were abused to make these underpants” on the label. Girls may want a guy like that to put an apple on his head for archery practice, but if it’s for a love affair, I guarantee you that what women want is a gentleman, an old-school seducer, a man to whom they can point a gun at and drag by the scruff of the neck to the mall on a Sunday and tell their friends that he goes voluntarily. 

In short, what most girls are waiting for is something between Humphrey Bogart and Pierce Brosnan, but with Bill Gates’ bank account, legs like Serena Williams’ arms, and Donald Trump’s sense of humor. And forget the self-help books that say the best way to pick up a girl is to “be yourself.” I’ve tried it and it doesn’t work — no one wants to date an idiot.

Translated by Joel Dalmau.