Fucking Day: How to Talk to Women A Guide for Tongue-Tied Men

I have a tendency to exaggerate, so let me put this as gently as I can: the worst tragedy of 2001 was a book called HOW TO TALK TO WOMEN: A GUIDE FOR TONGUE-TIED MEN by John Christie.

I bought this book from getgirls.com, a woman-hunting site run by Don Diebel, the desperate virgin pickup author so bad at getting girls he switched to writing books about praying for help with rejection. It is the only book sold on the website not written by Don Diebel, won't help anyone pick up a girl, and contains no information on what to do when you get one. Which means there is definitely no such author as John Christie. This is Don Diebel.

The book starts by praising one of nature's rarest treasures: the just plain horny man. Imagine their lives, wandering babe parades and selecting the best ones for (consensual, consensual) romance. And men are doing it all the time– fucking their favorite public place lovely. Ah, to be the just plain horny man!

"John Christie" is really trying to cultivate an image here. You, the reader, are a quiet boy, sensitive, too smart for women, a collector of busty anime statues, and think yeah, maybe babes should line up and let the high intelligence men pick the best one. "John" has written a guide for turning unwanted erections into bitterness and entitlement, which probably wasn't necessary. He also refers to himself as "we" because Don Diebel didn't want to give all the credit to his pen name, or as he might practice in the mirror, his nom de poon. Sorry about that, I'm trying to ease you into this next section.

We didn't have the word "incel" in 2001, but women still knew not to fuck men who had "relatively high intelligence level" and called women fair maidens. In his previous books, Don Diebel proudly presented himself as a topless bar bargain hunter who asked women to show their bush because you never know, right? One of these times, right!? Here he tried to come up with a second type of chick hound, and he landed on John Christie, friend-zoned fedora tipper. It's kind of incredible how different this is from his real self, yet somehow just as unfuckable. Anyway, John Christie hears from fair maidens "often" that they secretly hold feelings for the shy men in the background of their lives, and would have totally done sex with them if only they'd asked. And if you can't believe an unlikely story from the pen name of a destitute pickup artist, there is no magic left in the world.

John Christie never reveals his age, but he refers to girls as "modem" which means he has chased them through multiple generations and was typing this without his reading glasses on. Because that's what you want in a girl catching coach, someone who starts their sentences with, "Gee whiz, I don't get these navel-exposing harlots of today!" Maybe listen to him here, though. Don Diebel knows a lot of ways picking up girls doesn't work, and "nothing" is probably one of them.

Before we get started bagging some of these modem girls, let's learn about what it was like in the author's day. Like he fantasized about earlier in the intro, ladies would promenade and parade so each young man could select the prettiest one! If I had to guess, I'd say John Christie didn't research this. This feels more like a frustrated, stupid man imagining -again- how nice it would be if women treated life like a beauty pageant where he was the judge and the trophy was his sad dick. Either way, it won't be of much use to us. Let's move on to how fellas used to get sex during World War I.

"Did you know soldiers used to do sex to women? And we're not talking prostitutes. These were non-prostitute, actual girls. Skip ahead three wars and women got even filthier. Anyway, a lot of people hate me."

- Don Diebel writing as John Christie

Now that you've got some historical context for harassment, we can get into the actual methods. You might be worried the author is going to be objectifying women, but John Christie has broken them into two main categories: Moving and Stationary. You'd never describe objects like that.

The two types of girls share similarities, but the big difference is you have to get one of them to stop. This is important because some moves simply don't work on a woman speeding away on rollerskates, and screaming "stop your skates, stop your rollerskates, I want to fuck you" is a bad way to meet a woman in a coffee shop. It's how I met my wife, but I have an effortless charm you can't teach, m'lady.

John wanted to make sure you understood the first step of picking up a Moving girl, which again, is getting her to stop. Don't confuse this with starting your FIRST PHASE, a completely different first thing to do. So first, let's talk about some ways to stop her first.

Women aren't attracted to confident men, so really get in there and apologize. Blather and whimper like a tiny boy confused by his first erection. Apologize for taking up her time and let her know you have no right to do this. With any luck, she'll sense your bonedeep misogyny and instinctively start disagreeing with you. "She may even try to squirm away," realizes the man teaching you how to hunt babes. I'm not sure anyone could write a book worse at achieving its stated goal. This is a virgin's guide to being a noisier virgin. It's something a 7th grader would write after eleven 6th graders told him they didn't want to dance and an exchange student asked, "Crying alone friend, what's your secret!?"

One thing that sets Don Diebel apart from other pickup artists, is he forgets to sell you an image. You're not becoming a smooth-talking womanizer. You're a creep now and forever. You're a desperate creep trying shit because women are just padlocks and you're guessing combinations. But this is way too depressing. He stops his book to complain about guys who can pick up women as if to say, "Not like us losers. Right, reader? You know that cool guy? Fucking asshole doesn't even have to apologize to every woman he meets."

Here's an idea worth trying! Tell strange women to get in your car. Wait, wait, I forgot to mention: you should introduce yourself. Wait, wait, before that, tell her she'll be safe. So it should look something like this: "I'm sorry, lady, but get in my car, you won't die, I'm Don Di– I'm John Christie!" It's not much of an idea, but it also works with hitchhikers (if they are hot).

Ignore how unlikely this is to work. Is there any other field where such little information could be considered a tip? John Christie, fair maiden hunter, told us to scream our name out a car window at a woman waiting for her bus. It's barely a wish. It'd be like writing a cookbook and one of the recipes is, "Check a toilet for pizza, be sure to apologize if you don't find one, there's really no second recipe in here."

John Christie remembers the good old days when those ditzy, unsophisticated dames would believe you if you told them you were a nude painter. Then it occurs to him, "Holy shit, it never worked anyway, you can still do that." The tip ends here, by the way. There's no mention of what to do after a woman, ha, agrees to a platonic nude painting session and finds out you're not a painter. I think even the most generous, deluded reader will be starting to notice the author has never considered what happens after any of these tips work.

Alright, so the ideas of starting a free (except maybe sex) taxi service and asking women to get naked in your art studio (there isn't really an art studio) aren't working. Maybe the issue is we're trying too hard. Let's try the casual (can be humorous) approach.

Jesus. These are a nightmare scenario for any passing lady, and after staring at them for hours, I think I figured out a way to describe "John Christie"'s fundamental problem. It obviously starts with how every woman is a whole, different person, yet almost all of them have trained their entire life to hate and defend against this exact bullshit. There may never be a smart, ethical guide on porking babes, but if there was, it would probably start with, "Find a place that matches your vibe so you can have honest conversations." Don Diebel fails because he has been trying the exact opposite of that for 50 years. He is an invader in every environment, and unless he's screaming "can I honk them!?" he starts every interaction with a lie or a scheme. He thinks of each woman as a single try for a desperate trick, which means he can't ever talk to the same one twice or any of the people she's described him to, or else one of them would have explained a version of this to him. It's almost worse that he created this John Christie character to try to disguise his panty-sniffing stalker moves with apologies. Speaking of, here are some now:

Only the top lovemakers have multiple apology strategies for women currently running away from them. For instance, you could try shouting at her, "Um, excuse me, ma'am, my apologies, but I am merely interested in the benefits of jogging, not your feet or your sweaty feet! I apologize, I'm sorry, but I simply must ask you to show me your bush!" It's perfect because jogging after her will naturally camouflage the sounds of your lecherous panting.

Enough with the fucking apologies. Let's walk up to women and ask if we can stick it in. Some eye contact first could be a help, but who cares? We're ambushing a stranger and demanding sex. It's not going to work for a lot of reasons, the least of which is she didn't see you coming.

Okay, you've jumped into a woman's eyeline and demanded she deal with your interest in her. Let's say, hypothetically, she doesn't like that. In such a rare case, try this advanced emergency tip: instead of refusing to give her your name, give her your name. For example, "My name is, and then whatever your name is like Don or Hitler." If that doesn't work, apologize. Because this "no apologies, no tricks" approach will involve some tricks and apologies.

Now that we're half way into this useful guide on talking to women, it's time to try something more advanced. Let's try adding some cheap compliments to your apologies.

You can't have less expertise than this. If this was a book on roofing, this chapter would be called "What Do You Call The Top of a House, Tell Me Or I'll Kill Myself." John Christie came up with three "compliments" here. One of them is, word-for-word, "Hi! I like you. You're pretty," but like let her know you're kidding, the classic gag where you're a fucking idiot baby. She'll get it, and love it. The second compliment idea is telling her you've been rating women and she got a good score, and go ahead and tell her since she's wondering. Sure, give it a shot, virgin. And the third one is a limp try at cute where he suggests calling her a (name of a state) wildflower or a pocket Venus, this is obviously not a complete list. There is no worse version of this. A horse has more meaningful romantic thoughts when a rancher masturbates it into a bag.

Here's a thing girls often say: "I met the best guy. Before he said anything, he admired my feet." It's a great tip, but it's not entirely about making a first impression as a foot pervert. Do that, absolutely, she'll love it, but what this tip really teaches us is the value of sincerity. This doesn't work if she is wearing shitty shoes. Try telling a woman you love her shoes when she's in sneakers and she might realize all these shoe compliments are fake and you don't really want to smell her dirty feet at all!

Do this one. Walk right up to a fair maiden and tell her that of all the women her grandfather jerked off to, you select her for this evening's sex. Really hit the words "the last twelve Playboy Playmates of the month" to imply you could name them if you had to. In fact, maybe name them. She'll love that.

Don't ask a woman if you can show her something. Tell her you're going to show her something. Say it with a big smile. You both know you are showing her a knife and a penis.

I think you might be right, John Christie! Expressions might be a great way to express yourself! But before I say this is the dumbest goddamn thing I've ever heard, what do you mean by that?

Ha ha ha fuck. So he really did mean, like, "use phrases." Did Don Diebel maybe say this exact sentence to a woman who didn't leave and he's been trying to solve the mystery ever since? It's as if someone tried to codify "cool" and somehow got every detail specifically wrong. And this example is insane. "Matter of fact" is barely a turn of phrase; it's a common expression with a specific meaning without any particular charm or allure. The idea of emphasizing it is as pointless as suggesting you use it in the first place. If "John" said, "always choose words with lots of c's because it reminds girls of cocks and chinese cuisine" it would at least be actionable. I don't even know what category of expression "matter of fact" belongs in since it's not an idiom or a cliche, so I couldn't follow this advice if I wanted. "Say things like matter of fact" is like telling someone to keep Wednesdays in mind. Fucking why? How little do you have to say to think this is something worth saying?

If you're a sexy man with sex fucking in mind, share that with her. It may shock her, but you don't want her thinking she got into a free taxi for just women at the bus stop being driven by a chaste man who keeps innocently talking about her feet. By the way, Chapter 22: "TALKING SEXY" marks the end of sheepish John Christie. Don Diebel either ran out of ways to say sorry or forgot he was doing a pen name thing, because the rest of the book is all classic, gropy sex pest Donald Diebel. I wonder why he bothered with the fake name at all, and how he came up with "John Christie"...

… I shouldn't have wondered that. Let's get back to ways you can let a girl know "you are a sexy person and sex is part of your future plans with her."

This one is universal because telling Rita you're going to jerk off to her works just as well with women not named Rita.

If you don't want to come on too strong, or you're talking to a Rita who looks like she can't fuck, try the mild version. By that, Don means you should ask for sex the way a manifesto author might proposition a lab partner over a dissected frog. You can't get anywhere close to sex with this line. It's not even really a line. It's more like a full vaudeville act where Don plays both the straight man and the wise guy. And it's incoherent. The gap between "Rita you look so great" and "I want to wake up next to you" cannot be bridged with a single sentence. This is bad advice, Don, and you can tell because you sound like a fucking lunatic and you're dying alone. Next up: Sexy Topics.

What a sexless disaster. This is what happens to your brain if you pickle it with isolation and vintage pornography. Don's plan to infect the conversation with sex is to tell dirty jokes, ask if she's seen an "R" rated film, list his sexual fantasies, and sailboat sex. And for sailboat sex, heavy petting under a blanket during a softball game counts. The audiobook version of this is just three hours of the world's loneliest boner screaming.

You might think he's done because these are the dying coughs of an exhausted mind, but Don Diebel rallies for more Sexy Topics.

If you're having trouble getting a date, have you considered prostitution? Not the act of buying sex, but of speculating and discussing prostitution with each woman you meet? Make sure your thoughts are really naive, but also pedantic. She'll love it.

Women can't wait to share their thoughts about underwater petting, and to hear your thoughts on underwater petting. As with picking up hitchhikers (if attractive), set her mind at ease by introducing yourself after you bring up Jacuzzi sex.

"What do you think about titty contests? In Scottsdale, girls can win prizes for eating the sexiest banana, I'm Don, come with me right now I have something to show you." I don't know. Call me crazy, but I think this one would work.

Don Diebel wrote an entire book about harassing strippers while outsmarting their workplace's anti-creep policies. If there's any topic he should be able to speak on with expertise, it's stripteases. And yet after one sentence all he had to say was, "They are a lot of fun. They really get the old blood pumping." That's nothing. It's something a contestant would say about adult boobs on a game show called Identify That Priest. Which means even if this panty-sniffing nuisance finds someone who wants to have a conversation about strip bars with him, he still won't have any moves. In Don Diebel's wildest, unlikeliest fantasies, he can't picture Don Diebel having something to say.

On the subject of Water Beds, Don asks, "Do you improve lovemaking?" Which makes me ask, in this hypothetical discussion about water beds making sex better, why is Don talking to the water bed? I mean, I know why. It's because his only sex partner since 1978 is a hole in his mattress filled with shampoo, so I guess my question is, have you been talking to mattresses this whole book, Don? And would it fill you with dread to find out that would make it less creepy?

This is it. This is the world champion of bad sex advice. SHARE WITH HER LAWYER JOKES YOU SAW ON A LEWD BUMPER STICKER. Carve it in stone and let future generations marvel at it. Don Diebel is such an impossible combination of an arm grabbing at you from a sewer grate and a grandmother clipping a Marmaduke comic for the fridge.

When you have an idea as brilliant as "consider using stock expressions," it's worth repeating. As a matter of fact, it's worth repeating. I know all of humanity recently came together to declare a world champion of bad sex advice, but please consider I CAN'T REMEMBER IF I TOLD YOU TO USE EXPRESSIONS, thank you.

You can use these sexy expressions anywhere. For example, "Hey! Lady! Get in my car! Touch the spot! Touch the spot! Is your name Rita? Because you will touch the spot." I'm not sure that's an example. I'm worried my mind isn't holding up well against this torrent of dickless madness.

I was surprised when Chapter 26 was called "THIRD PHASE" because I wasn't aware we'd ever entered a SECOND PHASE. This whole book has been clumsy icebreakers for '70s dirtbags. Two pages ago we were telling a stranger in a strip bar about a bumper sticker we saw. We are not ready for sex. And speaking of, Don Diebel can't teach anyone how to fuck because realizing "you should keep trying unless she suddenly becomes very unfriendly, which would indicate she had lost interest in you" is the closest he'll ever come to intimacy.

I'm not kidding when I say Don Diebel's only sex advice in this book is a list of pushy things to say to a woman who has already told you no. It is beyond the scope of the most mean-spirited of jokes, and yet a real thing that happened and I'm showing you. An unimaginable horror too predictable to see coming. After an evening of listing which occupations have the biggest dick according to their bumper stickers, you've somehow gotten this woman into bed, and instead of telling you where to find a clitoris, Don Diebel, under the fake name of a serial killer, writes a chapter on advanced handjob begging. How dare he. How dare anyone be this bad at anything.

Like any good book about the human condition, the final chapter is an advertisement for an amazing new smell discovered by science that makes women crave your lap. And you know it works because it's the 28th chapter rather than, you know, the only chapter.

Don Diebel's grip on reality is so strong that he went from "women might sit closer" to "actual women will actually pay you to penetrate them" in three bullet points. These are not the words of a man who has seen a fuck potion work. This sounds more like an Amish child tanking the interview for a phone sex operator job.

As if you needed more reason to hate Don Diebel, he thinks feminists are trying to keep you from getting this secret pheromone because they are afraid of your penis's potential aromas. As if you needed more reason to hate Don Diebel, he claims it works on "redheads, whites, blacks, Asians (not how he put it), Indians, and a haunting blank space where he couldn't think of any other ethnicities, The End."

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