Finally!

Well,

After talking about it for months, I finally took my dating column and turned it into a blog format. Why did it take so long? I wanted it to be the same look as my website, so I had to learn how to make that work with blogging software (I chose Wordpress). Then, I had to learn how to build a better website by learning better software (Dreamweaver CS3--rocks!). Oh yeah, then I had to make the webiste...

So, you can read my column "Lunch is Not a Date" in its new blog format at lunchisnotadate.org. I hope you will take the time to participate!

Hindsight

I met someone so stupid the other day, he's hindsight was only 60/60.

My First Heckler... A Real Writer without a Parachute

Well, it was bound to happen. I've received my first heckler. Contrary to his belief, I do not shy away from hecklers. In case you missed it, "a real writer" wrote this comment on my last post:

"oh good. your book will be on kindle. yeh we can all find another way to read a piss poor book. i dont know why i'm bothering even wasting my time writing a comment your just going to delate and not let anyone else read. coward. i have been trying to get published for nearly a year and i red your book. the 4 worst books ever written are yours, tucker max, maddox, and chaz Chad Kultgen's. i am a better writer than all of you and can't get published. having read your books i don't even want to be published now. they make me not want to read or write. i can't even write a review on amazon because i don't have a credit card but my reviews on all your books are coming out on barnes and noble. big surprise there's nowhere to write on your site how bad your book is or on maddox and chad doesn't even have one and tucker aproves his before they post so i know anything i write won't go up there. maybe someone will read this before you delate it and save themself from a hrorible read. i am no longer tryhing to get published if this is the kinds of stuff they publish now they can have it. you guys are all a bunch of talentless losers who just got lucky or knew someone and have lots of money to sit around and not have to work."

In case you don't know, Tucker Max and Maddox are two of the most popular personalities on the Internet. I never heard of "chaz Chad Kultgen" but I googled his name and got some info.

I'm not going to criticize the heckler for not liking my book. I really don't have the time or care. Plus, if you don't like my work, or anyone elses for that matter, that's cool and expected. Sure, I'd like everyone to like my work but that's simply unrealistic. I will, however, criticize the heckler for being precisely what he claims I and these other authors are: lazy.

Are you kidding me? I work my ass off and don't get paid for anything but the books I sell. I did an interview this morning with a popular site for twenty-year-olds that will come out next week. I'm busy putting proposals together and submitting them to publishers and agents for future books. I have to stay on top of all my columns, blogging, and business aspects, like updating my site and getting "Lunch is Not a Date" into a blog format. It is amazing how busy I get. Hell, I finally did laundry for the first time in a month, Monday, and I haven't even had time to fold the clothes and put them away, yet! I have other projects in the works, too, and don't have a day job, so I have no real money (I am far from rich). I was the hardest touring comedian in the 1990's, with the record setting 106-straight weeks on the road.

Tucker Max maintains a site and business of sites known as Rudius Media. (I actually applied unsuccessfully to have a blog with them, detailing my experience as a traffic coordinator for a ritzy private school in Chicago; funny stuff.) His company has acted as an agent and landed some of their bloggers book deals. His book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell has done remarkably well, and continues to do so. He has two previous books that I found on Amazon, the first one published in 2001. They do not come close to sharing the success of his most recent book.

Maddox is the author of another very successful book--The Alphabet of Manliness. He has been posting to his site for ten years.

Tucker and Maddox are so successful, I offered them both the opportunity to read my book to provide quotes for the back. Why? For the same reason I approached the NY Times--they have a built-in audience who greatly respects their opinions. They've earned that credibility and the prestige to provide quotes for books. (Tucker declined, I never heard back from Maddox.)

Chad Kultgen authored a book called The Average American Male. He has a couple screenplays in production. (Getting published is ridiculously hard; selling a screenplay is at least twice as hard.)

What do the four of us have in common? Really only one thing: We are far from lazy. Lazy? Call us lazy? You've got to be fucking kidding me. It's obvious that we've all worked our asses off and continue to do so. Heckler? You've been trying to sell your book for "nearly a year?" Ooh. Sounds like a lot of work. You can't even take the time to use capital letters, proper grammar, or check your spelling. I can't even imagine what your manuscript looks like. Is it even typed? (Go to http://www.benderspink.com/ and click "Submit Script." I bet the heckler submits his work like that.)

It's not us that are lazy; clearly, it's you. Maddox and Tucker created their own audiences via hard, consistent work. (And Tucker had to fit in enough time to get plastered and do crazy things to write about through all that!) In truth, they helped pave the way for books like mine and Chad's. Instead of being jealous and lazily giving up, push harder. Hell, I tell you how I published on my site. You can pretty much do all that on your own without a publisher.

Don't follow our examples, though, because there's someone who trumps as all.

I had a tough childhood. My parents got separated when I was three, my father was never around, he kidnapped me for a year when I was five, yada yada yada. (Notice I make no excuses and didn't give up on life.) My oldest nephew, eleven, has even a tougher time with his mom (my sister). He has a two and five-year-old sister and brother, respectively. You all know my older sister has problems. They often run out of food (if I was rich, I'd feed them, heckler). My nephew worries about that. Does he give up? Throw in the towel? No. At age eleven, he pushes through.

When I dropped off his sister yesterday after a day of working out at the aquarium ("I want up," "I want down," "I want up," "I want down...;" I spent the day lifting her up and down so she could see the tanks better. Forget the gym; take a toddler to the aquarium or zoo), my nephew showed me his piggy bank, filled with $14 and some odd change. I asked him where he got it. He took me to his room. There, he told me about his business, new this year. He sells parachutes he makes from index cards, trash bags, and other everyday household items. He has four different sizes for prices from 25 cents to $1.00. He developed the "manufacturing technique" himself and employs several friends now, because business is booming since he started it on January 7th. Today, he delivers an order of ten large parachutes for $10. Yesterday he delivered an order to a six-year-old for 50 cents who wanted a parachute large enough to hold her small stuffed animals. He has developed a hot air balloon, which he will begin selling in a few weeks.

My nephew, at age eleven (how many of us could do this at eleven? Not me, that's for sure), sucks it up and does what he can; not for himself but to contribute to the family income, so that they will all have enough food. Fucking unbelievable and my new mentor. I'm sure, though, heckler, that his parachutes won't stand up to a 100mph wind and therefore suck. Did you think of his idea first but then never implement it? Probably. You're a quitter. Nothing wrong with that but don't project that onto those of us who never quit. Face up to it and move on. Buy yourself a stuffed animal and a parachute in which to carry it... you'll feel better. Don't worry; my nephew doesn't take credit cards, so you're good.

Tucker's site is http://www.tuckermax.com
Maddox's site is http://www.maddox.xmission.com
My nephew does not have a site... yet...

Men's Health & Kindle

I'm off today to take my niece to see the "fishies" at the Aquarium. Should be a blast! And very exhausting... two-year-olds just never seem to slow down. They go from hysterically wild to totally asleep; nothing in between.

I've been behind on my announcements, so here's an update:

Men's Health Jan/Feb 08 issue, I'm an expert for an article.

I have a couple other interviews and articles coming out, I'll keep you posted.

God should be available for Kindle today or tomorrow. (Kindle is Amazon's new electronic book reader, just in case you didn't know.)

Your Vote is Anonymous...

What I love most about the primary elections currently taking place is that your vote is completely anonymous. In last night's election in New Hampshire:

34% of black women with green eyes and short hair voted for Clinton
42% of white women with blue eyes and a breast enhancement within the last year voted for Obama

21% of white men experiencing erectile dysfunction voted for Powell (he's not even running but these guys have other things on their mind)

50% of the people living in the house at 1616 Kinsington Dr. in Concord voted for Clinton.

Yup, gotta love the U.S. and our system of voting. It's completely anonymous.

Next Book Excerpt

Hey All,

My sister has her kids back, all is well, I am back! So wipe your eyes w/your Kleenex for the last time... and read.

With all the questions I've been receiving and what I've seen on the Internet, it is clear that two more books are needed--each streamlining and expanding dating advice for each sex. I never intended God to be a dating bible, just to be my funny stories with some dating advice. As such, I decided to actually write two dating advice books. The books will cover everything--from meeting through problems in the relationship. Here is one of the chapters for you perusal. (While I'm writing these books, I am also working on other books, unrelated to dating and sex; they are creative fiction works.)

This hasn't been edited by the editor, yet, of course, as I only started writing this week. The book for guys is first and it is rolling along; I am already 32 pages in to it. Hell, I've even left in the description of the drawing I want in this chapter. (This is also the column for "Lunch is Not a Date" this week and you can get a pdf copy there for easy reading--http://www.lunchisnotadate.com/.)

(This is an excerpt from Ian Coburn’s pending new book—Lunch is Not a Date – Get Comfortable with Women not Your Game. All copyright laws apply and Ian Coburn holds all copyrights. 2008.)


Actions Speak Louder than Words, Scaredy Cat

As I unpacked my gear following a three month road tour after graduating college, I was exhausted from four years of college intermingled with comedy excursions lasting up to a month, then capped off with the three month road tour. I finally took some much needed time to just relax.

While unpacking my boxes from years away at school, I came across my high school yearbooks. I then did something I had never taken the time to do before—I read all the signatures, word for word. (Really, when you know a lot of people in high school, you spend a lot more time passing your yearbook around in a rush to get as many signatures as possible than you do reading those signatures. Hell, I didn’t even know where some of my good friends had signed!) I wish I had taken the time to read the signatures back in high school.

I quickly discovered that a lot of girls I liked had liked me, too, and had dropped me plenty of hints. Truthfully, I had read some of these girls’ signatures back in high school as soon as I could after they signed, because they were very hot and sexy, and always friendly to me. A little older and wiser, I realized in high school I was a moron. Girls commented on how wonderful I was and how cool it was to know me; that they looked forward to seeing me each day and that I was one of the few, sincere nice guys. One girl in particular, Margaret, wrote, “Ian, you are the coolest guy ever. If anyone else ever says otherwise, I’ll kick their ass! :) I look forward to seeing you everyday. Love, Your Friend, Margaret.” See what a fucking idiot I was?

Margaret sat in front of me in history class our junior year. She was one of the prettiest girls in school with pretty eyes, long brown hair, a great body that was always trying to burst out in various places under her tight fitting clothes, and stood about 5’3”. (You’ll notice I don’t use a numbering system to describe women—“She was a nine and ¾. ” It’s inconsistent and too subjective. For example, lots of guys give women with big, fake breasts high numbers. I don’t find anything attractive about fake breasts and give these same women low numbers. Lots of magazines rate Halle Berry as the prettiest woman in Hollywood; I prefer Claire Forlani. It’s no secret why; I’m a big sucker for eyes. Compare their eyes and you’ll know why I prefer Claire. Also, numbering is insulting to women. Instead, I just describe the woman and you can assign her a number based on your own preferences, if you so find the need.)

Margaret oozed sex, yet somehow managed not to be the least bit slutty. Unlike most of the other hottest girls in school, she was not pretentious and was very laid back; easily approachable. Of course, the smell of her hair and perfume always drifted back to me and left me intoxicated. She was always turning around to chat with me or comment on the lecture, and was very friendly. Mostly, I remember her warm, inviting smile and that I felt very comfortable talking with her, not at all nervous like I did with other girls. At least until the times when I started to work up my nerve to ask her out; then I got nervous and backed down. I wanted to ask Margaret out but she always mentioned a boyfriend or a date just before I had worked up the nerve and was about to ask. Her timing was uncanny. I backed down, mistakenly assuming she was obviously uninterested.

These are the many character flaws in a nice guy, and I had them all:

· Doesn’t pay attention and pick up on signals.
· Doesn’t heed actions over words.
· Overanalyzes instead of taking action.
· Never makes a move.
· Has low dating and sexual self-esteem.
· Convinces himself girls aren’t interested.
· Is too much of a pushover.
· Assumes women know he’s interested without him having to do anything.
· Knows nothing about flirting.
· Assumes pretty women overflow with confidence.
· Puts pretty women on a pedestal.
· Imagines pretty women are chaste, as though they have just been waiting for him to come along.
· Is a scaredy cat.
· Has an overactive imagination and inflated ego.

Margaret always asked me if I was dating anyone or going to this or that dance; what did I do over the weekend? Did I like the same musical groups she liked? Was I going to go to a particular concert? She also complimented my clothes every few days and teased me for being smart, often followed by a gentle punch in the shoulder or a light push. I didn’t take stock of any of this; instead, all I heard was, “I had a date this weekend,” or “My boyfriend blew me off last night.”

Of course, I’d get upset. Why was she dating a guy who blew her off and not me? Ah… how about because I never asked her out? That’s a pretty good fucking reason, don’t you think? I constantly worked to convince myself she wasn’t interested. Yeah, she touched me unnecessarily but that didn’t mean anything; she is beautiful and could have any guy in school. Why would she want me? She keeps teasing me about being smart; everyone knows girls don’t like smart guys. Sure, she talks to me all the time but the only reason is because she sits next to me. And the only reason she sits next to me is because the seating is alphabetical; if she had a choice, she would seat somewhere else. Sure, she was friendly in the hallway and even unnecessarily approached me, but that was just because she knew she’d be seeing me in class, so she was nice so we wouldn’t have any problems, in case she needed to copy my notes or something. Okay, she signed my yearbook “Love” but she closed with “Your Friend.” Clearly, she isn’t interested. In fact, she’s being kind of a tease.

In short, I was a dumbass. Margaret was interested. She threw as many signals to me as she could without putting herself in a vulnerable position where her self-esteem could take a big hit. (It was taking little hits every time I failed to read one of her signals; each time she just thought I wasn’t interested.) Why did she talk about dates or boyfriends? It was always after I failed to jump on the opening she presented for me to ask her out, most likely to boost her ego which just took a hit because I passed over the presented opportunity to hit on her. It also let me know that she was able to date.

You can clearly see how I overanalyzed, convinced myself she wasn’t interested, didn’t pay attention or pick up on signals, assumed she knew I was interested (how, exactly?), had low dating and sexual self-esteem, and knew nothing about flirting (all that teasing she did while touching me. Dah!).

When it comes right down to it, I was a scaredy cat, a mere coward. Why? Because I thought if she rejected me, my life would be over. I’d have to see her everyday in class, still. She would tease me behind my back and make fun of me to all her friends. She’d tell other guys that I asked her out just before they tore off each others clothes and fucked like bunnies. These guys would tease me in the locker room at gym, then tell me how full and taut her breasts were, and how wonderfully they bounced up and down while she road their dicks in her bedroom, surrounded by her watching stuffed animals. (This would be the overactive imagination and inflated ego.)

Was I out of my mind? If I asked her out and she declined, life would go on pretty much as it did before; I’d just be a little hurt for a while but I’d recover. Also, there were nearly 1000 students in my class and more than half were girls! Chances are, I’d like someone else soon. (In high school, soon usually required nothing more than a quick survey of the classroom, where I would have noticed other pretty girls I had ignored because my head was wrapped too tight around Margaret.)

Who did I think I was that I was so important to Margaret that she would spend hours of her time teasing and discussing me behind my back and even on other dates? If she wasn’t interested, she wouldn’t even give me another thought and probably no one would know of my failure, let alone give a rat’s ass. The only way that would happen is if I kept asking her out repeatedly and followed her around like a puppy dog. And I would never do such a stupid thing. (Please don’t do that or, if you already do, stop!)

The only way anything would have ever happened with Margaret is if she had made a direct play for me, like shoving her tongue down my throat. For some inexplicable reason, nice guys assume that pretty women have extremely high self-esteem. They know guys are interested in them. They know they can have any guy. When they talk about dates or boyfriends to other guys, they are just being mean and they know it. I put Margaret on a pedestal and made her unattainable. She didn’t make herself unattainable, I did it. It was all me. No one was responsible for my failure but me.

It gets worse. I kept in touch with Margaret after high school and we went out a few times. She attended a community college about an hour from my university. Her junior year, she transferred to my school. I still had not ever made a move on Margaret, even though we had shared lots of alone time. One night she called and invited me over to her apartment. I hiked over and she mentioned her boyfriend, who went to the community college she had attended. She complained about him for a while as we sat on her bed, then abruptly stated she needed to change her pants. “Do you mind?”

“No.” I got up to leave.

“Oh, you don’t need to go anywhere. It will only take a sec.”

She stood up and only a few feet away from me slid out of her jeans. Her yellow panties were painted on her incredibly sweet ass. “Can you help me find my yellow shorts?”

I managed to reply, “Sure.”

We searched the room, looking for her shorts. She bent over right in front of me several times as she reached down to sift through piles of clothes. (This would be the appropriate time to tell a woman she has a great ass, as opposed to using it as an icebreaker.) She finally found the yellow shorts and slipped them over her panties. A few minutes later she commented that it was getting late and that she had some studying to do; I should get going. Bitterly disappointed, I left. Why had she invited me over for only thirty minutes, just so she could talk about her boyfriend and tease me? No… she invited me over so that we could fuck each other’s brains out! It is no wonder I graduated college a virgin.

On the way back to my dorm, I was split between being crushed and being annoyed. On the one hand, Margaret had changed in front of me, meaning she might do more next time and something might actually happen between us. On the other hand, she appeared to feel that I was such a non-threat and I was so far into the friend zone, that she treated me just like another girl and changed in front of me. Welcome back, overanalyzing.

Changing in front of me was Margaret’s last all-out effort to clue me in about her interest for me. After that, she stopped returning my phone calls. I actually got mad at her, can you believe that? I complained that she didn’t return my calls and became bitter. Jesus Christ, what more could I have expected her to have done?

I could go on about the number of times I was invited to coeds’ rooms in college and then left, disappointed that they only had me stay there for ten minutes before saying they had to study or get going; but, I think I’ve made my point. Also, if I re-live too many of these stories, I will start to cry.

Another occurrence I screwed up repeatedly in college was failing to heed actions over words. I’d go on dates with coeds and they’d tell me they weren’t looking to date. Or I’d ask them out again and they’d tell me they were taking too many credit hours to see anyone or go out. Some talked about their boyfriend at another school, even when they were in their room alone with me, folding their laundry, dangling panties and bras in front of me (because I knew nothing about flirting, they had no chance and their action served only to sexually frustrate me and make me more of a complaining, whiny bitch). I always told all these girls, “I’m sorry to hear that. If anything changes, let me know.”

I figured the coeds were either being honest with me or letting me down easy. Two weeks later, I’d come across them holding hands with or making out with their new boyfriend. “I thought you weren’t dating anyone,” or “had a boyfriend at another school,” or “were taking too many credit hours to date!” I’d cry.

“I was but he was so charming, I just couldn’t resist.”

Coeds would break up with their boyfriends for other guys. Hell, some of them got so involved, they would drop classes to open up their schedule. No girl ever dropped a class for me! I became more and more frustrated and bitter. Of course, I blamed the women. Whose fault was it, really? Say it with me… mine!

(Drawing here of a coed searching her room in panties and a t-shirt, looking for clothes, with the caption: “Learn from my mistake. When a coed takes her pants off in front of you and asks you to help her find something to wear, instead, help her take off the rest of her clothes!”)

Last summer I was on a date with a woman and while were eating dinner, she told me she was “on a dating hiatus.” I walked her home after dinner and made a pass at her en route. “What are you doing?”

“Well, if you don’t know, I must be doing it wrong. I’ll try again.”

“No, I mean I told you I was on a dating hiatus.”

“Yeah, I know; it’s just been revoked.”

“You can’t revoke it.”

“I just did.”

I followed-up with a second pass. We made out off and on the entire walk back to her place. A week later, we were dating. A few summers ago, I spent the better part of a night hanging out with a woman I met playing volleyball at a bar. We closed it and she insisted on walking me home. On the way, she told me she lived with her boyfriend. We had sex in the courtyard of my building. Recently, I met a woman at a bar who told me she neither hooked up with nor dated guys she met in bars. She gave me a blowjob back at my place that night.

What changed? I discovered an important characteristic of women: Women’s actions often don’t agree with what they say. When this occurs, heed the woman’s actions over her words. This was a monumental discovery for me. Whenever a woman says something, I take note of her actions. If her actions are in sync with what she says, I listen to what she is saying. If her actions aren’t in sync with what she says, I ignore what she is saying.

The woman who was on a dating hiatus (which was a problem because I happened to be on a “take-a-woman-to-dinner-for-no-reason hiatus”) was on a date with me. Clearly, she was not on a hiatus. The second woman spent most of the night talking with me and flirting, both with words and physical contact. She insisted on walking me home. Clearly, she wanted something to happen, so I made a pass in my courtyard and it paid off for both of us. The last woman said she didn’t hook up with or date guys she met in bars. Really? She was bathed in perfume, her breasts were popping out of a shirt three sizes too small and she wore a skirt that was so high it was giving me altitude sickness. Hm… that’s a lot of work to go through in order to not meet anyone.

Failing to heed women’s actions over their words is perhaps the nice guy’s biggest character flaw, serving to cause him a lot of his misery. Open your eyes, use all your senses and pay attention. If a woman says she’s not interested and acts like it, leave her alone. If she says she’s not interested or doesn’t want to meet anyone, but acts otherwise, stay on her.

Why do women often say one thing when they clearly mean another? There appear to be several primary reasons, according to my female friends (who, by the way, all claim to never follow this practice…). Some women do it as a test of the guy’s interest. A guy who is really interested will continue to pursue while other guys won’t. In this manner, she finds a guy who really likes her for her, not for her T&A. As guys, we know it’s the exact opposite; the respectful, nice guy listens to what she says and backs off, respecting her words and choice. The guy who’s after T&A pursues because he has nothing to lose; he doesn’t care what she thinks or feels, while the nice guy is very concerned about her thoughts and feelings. Other women have been told so many times that they will find true love when they least expect it—when they are not looking—they reason if they pretend they are not looking, they will trick fate into providing for them. Still, some women are burnt out on dating and just say things out of sheer dating fatigue.

Whatever their reasons, most women expect men to know what they’re doing. Ever heard this catchy little phrase? “Men are clueless.” Now you know what women mean; they are referring to guys not heeding women’s actions over women’s words.

Women do not like to be confronted about this practice—or most of their practices for that matter, so don’t do it. Don’t ask them about it. If you meet a woman you’re not interested in, sure, then by all means feel free to bring it up. Be prepared for her to get defensive, though.

The other character flaw responsible for most of a nice guy’s misery is fear. Nice guys are scaredy cats. They are afraid to take a risk, whether it be making a move or simply asking a woman out. Nice guys need to get over their fear of rejection. Here’s a little secret: Everybody gets rejected. Yes, even all the purported pick-up gurus and ladies’ men and yup, me, too. (Why don’t the experts admit to this? It’s not because it would hurt sales, which it might. Nope; it’s because a lot of the experts really aren’t about the women at all. They’re about being the most popular guy. They need to be the guy in high school that they looked up to back then; the guy they were jealous of, yet hated at the same time. Droves of guys coming to them for advice enable experts to be that guy and they don’t want to lose the awe of even one of their fans. That’s another reason many of them keep coming out with new products; when attention starts to wane, they need to kick it up again. Why aren’t I like that, you ask? I was. Want to meet the most popular guy in the room? Talk to the comedian; specifically, the headliner. I got past it; most self-proclaimed pick-up artists seem to be stuck in that phase of their growth.) Guess what? We all live to fight and mate another day after rejection.

The only way to get over fear of rejection is to become at ease with taking risk. The only way to become at ease with taking risk is to develop a thick skin. The only way to develop a thick skin is to get lots of rejection. The only way to get rejected is to take a risk. It’s a cycle, which is why it’s so hard to get started. Ironically, it is rejection itself that enables you to withstand rejection and take risk. Once you get several rejections under your belt, you’ll relax. And relaxed guys come off more confident. Confident guys have far more success with women than nice guys. Get out there and get rejected! It will help you immensely with women.

If you’re in college or high school and are a nice guy, you are now in a great position. You know what to look for in a girl’s behavior. You know to heed her actions over her words if the two don’t match. You know you need to take a risk and ask the girl out or hold her hand or give her a kiss. You’ve learned a very important fact: Women really do want nice guys; it’s just that nice guys need to make a move to find that out. Most never do and that’s why they lose out. You don’t need to concern yourself with adopting some “bad boy” behavior or acting like a jerk or developing maneuvers to get around a girl’s walls. Most women at your age aren’t skeptical and still believe nice guys exist.

If you’re older, you’ve learned some important things but you definitely need a lot more in order to regularly be successful with women. Once women reach their low twenties, many become skeptics and no longer believe nice guys exist. As they get older, they become more and more set in their ways, make the same mistakes with men repeatedly, and they become even more and more skeptical of men.

The difference between women in college and women out of college is the reason why I wish I had been given access to books like God and this one back in college. College provides you with numerous opportunities to meet, date, and experience a lot of different types of women. It is the best time and location to discover what you like and what you don’t. You have proximity, access, and opportunity. Unfortunately, I was one of the many guys who lacked even a little knowledge. College students are the biggest reason I wrote these books and they stand to gain the most from my knowledge, stories, and advice. I hope this chapter proves especially helpful to you college guys out there… or at least keeps you awake during one of those exciting lectures that are always happening on campus.