Dortin’s Guide to Douchebaggery


Alright, y’all. Recently I’ve read an obscene amount of literature of the blog, text book, novel, short story variety — all of it with the same generic message. Don’t go for the douche bags, give the nice guys a chance. Ignore bad boy appeal and give the weird kid in the back of the class room who bought you flowers a shot, he might not be the hottest out there, but he sure will treat you right.

Well, that’s all well and good, but, I’m here to tell you that as many times as you want to preach this lesson that we hard-headed women should most definitely take, it just isn’t going to happen. So, since I might be president of the douche bag fan club, I figured I would do something new. Something contrasting every,single thing you’ve ever read — provide those nice guys out there with a step by step guide to douchebaggery. Its an art that takes years to perfect, but with a little work, you’ll get there.

Now, boys, repeat after me. I will not take “no” for an answer, I will only give it. I will no longer comfort a girl while she cries, because I will be making her cry. I will not, under any circumstances, shower her with compliments or do anything nice for her. I will cast aside my “nice guy” tendencies and, for lack of a better term, douche it up.



I know its a cliche, and I’m sure you love your mom’s knitted sweater, but save those for obnoxious family gatherings where they’ll gush over how great you are and you won’t be trying to pick up a girl. Go out immediately and purchase a collection of Sperry’s, Polo, button downs. If you really want to look like a douche bag, bedazzled jeans and Ed Hardy is a solid go to outfit, but I’d say restrict those articles of clothing to the Jersey Shore.

Go get yourself some hair supplies, because as endearing as that frizzy, dismantled mess of hair on top of your head is, it doesn’t scream: I’m a tool, it screams, I’m fun and playful, let’s be friends. Get yourself a good cologne, NO AXE BODY SPRAY, THIS IS NOT 8TH GRADE. I REPEAT — NO AXE BODY SPRAY.



Now, I know you’ve spent all your life sending kind text messages to whiny girls, telling them they are beautiful and any man would be lucky to have them, whatever. You’re texts will become infinitely shorter — things like, “Hey” “Yes” “No” “Idk” “Nite”. Those are your friends. Also, bonus points for waiting three hours to respond to her messages, she’ll really fall for you when you do that.

You will no longer call a girl beautiful or pretty, she is hot, sexy, a slam, dime-piece if you so choose. But never, ever beautiful. You will text her between the hours of 9 PM and 2 AM, sometimes waiting days between texting her. Don’t you worry, you’ll have her calling the phone company to see if her phone is still in service.



So as much as you enjoy sitting down, eating mass amounts of food and talking about her feelings, or actually watching movies or helping her babysit — you must stop. You will go to parties, at your fraternity or sport house. If you are in neither of those things, please proceed to join one. It helps a lot. You will ignore her at those parties, only dancing with her on occasion, but never only her.

You will no longer go on walks or out to dinner, at best promise her a late night McDonald’s run. She will pay for herself. Better yet, she will make you, and any friends you may so deem appropriate, dinner. She will clean and do your laundry and service you. Its the way the world should run, good sirs.



For the love of all things Holy, don’t stand outside of her window throwing rocks with a bouquet of roses. Everyone fantasizes about it, but I speak from experience, its actually quite petrifying when a rock hits your window at 3 AM, and the flowers are just plant sex parts, its not romantic. We like it when instead at 3 AM, we are responsible for taking care of you, or listening to you tell lie after lie. That’s what really draws us in. 

On occasion, throw out the tiniest phrase to make us think you’re interested in dating us, like, “You’re really cool” or “I had a great time with you tonight” and then ignore us for a week and talk to another girl. I’ll let you in on a little secret, we’ll lie awake until all hours of the night talking to our girlfriends and analyzing what the text: “How was your day?” actually meant.


Now, I know I could go on and on taking you out of your sensitive, caring shell and introducing you to the world of male supremacy and douchebaggery, but I think you have enough homework for one night. I wish you luck, nice boys, and I can almost guarantee that girl you’ve been waiting on for years who had you friend-zoned from the day you shared your lunch with her in elementary school will throw herself at your feet.

It’s a twisted cycle that I can’t quite understand, yet I’m at the forefront of it. Nice guys finish last, always have and always will. In a dog eat dog world, the lion eats the lamb, the tool beats out the friend, and the douche bag gets the girl.

Now girls, I’m sorry to have just thrown more of these crude, offensive tools out there to mingle in the dating pool, but in a sea of sharks, have any of you really bothered to give those clownfish a shot? That’s what I thought.




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