Read an Excerpt
From the Introduction of Screw Everyone
The names of the men in this book have been changed because most
of them are named Dave.
And there are a lot of names in this book. Then again, it is called
Screw Everyone, so I'm delivering on that promise. You might wonder if
the quantity of men indicates that I possess a special talent or I'm some
sort of knockout. Au contraire, my friend. I'm not effortlessly pretty,
but I do clean up well. My real gift is that I'm not fussy. If we were
talking about food, I'd be considered "adventurous," in wine circles,
"unpretentious," and in dating terms, "a slut." If there were such a thing
as Lady Scouts, I would have easily earned the booty-call badge: an
embroidered silhouette of a girl ordering two drinks at last call.
When most people think of a slut, they envision a woman who is
a lost soul, wildly insecure, mentally unstable, and possibly dumb. Au
contraire encore! I might not speak great French, but I am not dumb.
And I didn't set out to be a slut; frankly, I didn't even realize I was one.
I just thought I was being nice.
Call me an enthusiastic consenter, or a fairly responsible hedonist,
but sleeping around was often the by-product of getting what I
wanted. I felt empowered going against the accepted "rules" of society
by intentionally going home with a guy. They weren't just random guys.
I picked them. That being said, I was an advocate of equal opportunity
hook-ups, with everyone from jazz musicians to blind albinos.
Right from the start, I planned and strategized my potential
romantic encounters like a veteran criminal. My quest in life went
beyond wanting to "try anything"; I wanted to try everything. Sex
and relationships became my drug of choice. What turned me on
the most was the seduction, the thrill of trying to get someone to
like me, and seeing how far I could take it. Rarely was it a problem
to get the ball rolling; the issue was how to control it once it picked
up speed. By my estimation, dating was 1 percent confidence and 99
percent troubleshooting.
And then there is the simple case of efficiency. Say what you will
about going all the way on the first date, but if you want answers about
compatibility faster than what Google can provide, it's the best way to go.
Plus, I like men. I never considered them "the enemy" or an
unsolved mystery to be analyzed to death. I had too many other things
to worry about. I didn't relate to any of the classic dating rules, either.
If you believe you can master your romantic fate by playing games, like
waiting three days to call someone or pretending to be busy on a Friday
night when you're really just watching Prime Suspect with an overpriced
bottle of Chardonnay, then fantastic. But I think the only person you're
fooling is yourself. I'd rather slip into my favorite pair of jeans and head
over to the local Pig and Whistle pub for a quick pick-me-up. Experience
showed me that if there was anything I could count on in life, it
was another beer and another boyfriend in my future.
