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If there's 2.6 billion things Craig loves, it's the ladies...


I have to say this right off the bat, and this really pains me to admit it:

I wasn't always so good with the ladies.

No, stop. You can stop writing that e-mail saying you refuse to believe it. I'm telling you the truth. At one time in my life, ladies didn't flock around me like they were auditioning for a Jay-Z video. True, this was so long ago, I can only remember it as a fuzzy, distant block of time in the far past. But still, it's part of who I am. I wasn't always a pimp.

In college, in fact, I tended to stay with one girlfriend for a really long time. A lot of that was love, but I bet a little portion of it was I didn't feel as suave as all the single guys around me. They seemed to always be able to pick up on girls in bars, or meet somebody at a party and "hook up." I didn't know how to hook up. And I needed help.

There was a guy in college named Craig. Craig was a guy's guy. He always seemed to know just what to say to women and once in a while he'd offer us advice. It usually went like this:


Lovesick Blind Lemon Omie: Hey, Craig, I wanted to ask you a -- hey, what are you doing?

Craig: Making a Tupperware bong. What's up?

LBLO: Oh, well, there's this girl I've been seeing. And I know she likes hanging out with me, but I don't know if she likes me as more than a friend and --

Craig: Dude, is she putting out?

LBLO: Well, no. I mean --

Craig: Dump her, man. Like, now.


Craig was always good at putting things in perspective. Well, now it's Valentine's Day and for as long as I remember, Valentine's Day always seems to go wrong for me. My nastiest breakups have always happened right before the holiday. This year may actually break that streak, but I won't know until midnight.

Since I'm no authority on the holiday, I thought I'd track down Craig and ask him to offer some advice for all the singles out there who are looking for love and unsure how to get it. He was hesitant at first. He kept calling my site, "Terribly Crappy." But eventually he came around. This is what Craig looks like:


This was from back in college. I hear he shaved the moustache and lost a little bit of weight, but as you can see from his picture, he had no problems attracting women of all races, creeds, body types, religions and sororital affiliation. I mean, just look at him! He's an unstoppable lady-attracting machine. He isn't human! He can't be reasoned with! He doesn't feel pain! Don't even try to resist his manly paws.

Well, here he is. Learn from the master:


Hey, fuckers. This is Craig.

C to the motherfuckin' R-A-I-G!

That's right. Do like Stevie Nicks: Stand back, stand back.

Yeah, I remember Omar from college. He had this big bushy stack of long hair (I think he cut if off because of some job he had) and he would wear silk shirts all the time, walkin' around he was a poet or some shit. He always had a girlfriend. That limited his dating options, in my opinion, but hey, what are you gonna do? I don't wanna say he was a pussy, but... He wasn't the manliest of guys is all I'm saying. He wasn't no CRAIG.

So he e-mails me all desperate and shit because he doesn't know what to write about Valentine's Day. He goes all Foreigner on my ass: "Hey Craig -- I wanna know what love is!"

Look, as far as I'm concerned, there ain't been no real love since Joanie Loved Chachi, alright? That was some real shit. Fonzie's all standin' around, and Joanie didn't want Fonzie, she wanted Chachi. That's some real love. You don't find that shit at the strip club. And don't think I haven't tried.

But that don't mean you can't hook up. Websters defines "hooking up," as, "the act of getting your jimmy hat on with some chick that's all grateful that you bought her drinks all night and thinks you remind her of the cousin she always thought was cute, but she couldn't have him because he was her cousin and all." You don't believe me? You can look that shit up yourself.

But to paraphrase Aristotle, it is not merely enough just to hook up. You gotta think about the future. Are you gonna call her a cab or drive her ass home yourself? Sometimes it's early. She's gotta be at work, or school, whatever, or she's gotta go feed her baby. What are you gonna do? Do you even have cab money? To quote Limp Bizkit, "Just think about it."

That may not sound very romantic. I know you're all into the candy hearts and the rose petals in your underwear today and all that frilly pussy shit, but I'm just bein' real. That's all.

So I know what you're askin' now. "Craig. Craig, you animal, yo Craig, man. What's your secret? Do you love anybody? Do you gots romance in your heart?"

Shit yeah, bitch! I'm all about the romance. Check it out. I'll lay out everything I know about pleasing the women that have been lucky enough to cross my path. You ladies know who you are. You got totally Craiged.

Your ass better go to the next page. That's where all my wisdom flows out like a delicate bodily function...

More wisdom from Craig...


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