I'm a sentimental sort of person and sometimes, I have to admit, I really begin to miss high school. Luckily for me, I only have to look as far as the male-female dynamic at Hopkins to be immediately transported back. Only, we've been transported from wholesome Rory-and-Dean-season-one-afterschool-special-high-school to Marissa-Cooper-(and in some cases Julie Cooper)-O.C. -third-season-high-school. Gone are apple pie notions such as good clean fun and dating. But the thing that I miss most is good game.
First, I would like to clarify the definition of game. Game is not, as many would believe, the ability to get extremely "wasted" (a term I find repulsive to begin with . . . in what universe does that sound good? If you told a four-year-old kid he was gonna grow up and get wasted he'd probably cry.), finding a member of the opposite sex who is equally if not more "wasted," walking up to them and getting them to engage in some sort of mutual physical gyration. This is not game, this is gorilla. And I get it, college equals gorilla. But it doesn't mean a girl doesn't miss the good old days from time to time.
Game is like Monopoly. Bad game is what happens when you are the little racing car that likes to rev its little engine all over everyone, acquiring people like houses and property, trading as you like and playing against, oh, yourself. Good game, on the other hand, is what happens when the little racecar meets the little battle ship: a worthy adversary who can take a blow or two (who knows, maybe they'll blow you back).
The thing about good game is that both people have an equal shot at domination. Nothing's more frustrating or attractive than knowing someone wants you and not knowing why they won't make a move.
In good game, nobody feels bad about themselves because it's nothing to do with rejecting the other person and everything to do with the quest for ultimate satisfaction. I can't tell you how many people I've talked to of both sexes who feel dejected by bad game and go off on endless tirades of self pity, amounting to something like "Ugh, Jason totally ignored me when I saw him today. He hates me! Am I hideous???" Good game isn't about conquering, it isn't about vanquishing, and it excludes the Madonna/Whore Complex.
The Madonna/Whore Complex (also known as the Mamma/Ho complex as Sherry Argov puts it in her book Why Men Love Bitches - excellent for bathroom reading, inspirational quote night and wedding presents) is a pretty well-known phenomenon among men, but I find that women are equally guilty. It refers to how when men meet women, they quickly place them into one of two categories: the mamma (also know as the sweet, pleasantly nagging but nonsexual type) and the ho (also known as the sexual but non-datable type). Once placed in either category, it is extremely difficult to change categories.
Men who have the Mamma/Ho Complex are very typically the ones with terrible game, or no game at all. You cannot have good game with someone you view as a piece of meat, nor can you have it with someone whom you would allow to fold your laundry.
Similarly, women will have a male friend or "boy toy" with whom they will do boyfriend activities but will not sexually engage(known as "the friend zone") while simultaneously pining over some other guy who could not be less interested in them. But all is fair in love and war: One girl's boy toy is another girl's asshole.
I would be remiss in writing a piece about game if I did not highlight some of my favorite game plans. In the digital realm we have, of course, online gaming: mild and friendly, you start out by poking someone on facebook and then chatting with them online (so easy to slip in the occasional dtf ... kidding of course, but Google it if you don't know what it stands for) and then all of a sudden you're sending them gifts from "secret." Very tricky, very smooth, very sixth grade chic.
Graduate to text game: the casual feeler message to locate a person, be it at five at night or five in the morning. This is like the power hour of the game world because every text brings new waves of panic and delight - will they return it or won't they? Wait long enough and the frenzy will evolve into who knows?
Phone game: when you hear a voice, you know it's serious . . . seriously on. With game this good, slap on a minutely rate and girlfriend's in business.
In-person game is a whole other ball park. Some of my favorite maneuvers: For girls, an all time favorite is the Drop-Dead-Gorgeous-Drop-Dead, in which the girl shows up looking fabulous only to completely ignore whoever her mark is until he comes and talks to her first.
For guys, my fave is easily the Altnernating-Altar-Boy, in which a guy completely takes sex off the table and suddenly the girl finds herself seducing him . . . which, of course, he's magically okay with.
Other favorites for more experienced gamers: the Walk Back (old school, but it gets you where you wanna go . . . faster) the Dirty Dancing (her hips don't lie), and of course the classic and seasonal October Sky (One look at the big dipper and you'll have blast off).
As a veteran from the good old days, I often think about how to combat this lack of game in an environment clearly set up for gorilla warfare. I think it must be hard because it sure ain't easy. You're more likely to encounter good music in a frat than good game, and that's saying something. We live in this competitive environment that has a way of shrinking peoples' perspectives until they're so myopic they can only think about themselves.
I guess it's just a matter of trying to play fair yourself. Don't get with people you don't like. Don't lead people on. If you like someone, don't torture them. And if you must (and let's face it, a little torture can be good) be nice about it. Everyone loves Chuck Bass, but no one would ever take him seriously. Now, Ryan Atwood, on the other hand, he was dashing.
