A Girl’s Guide To Creep Crushing

Regardless of how hot or sexually available you make yourself (girls I’m talking to you – if it wasn’t already obvious from the title) we’re females which means, in a nutshell, we all have tits and vaginas; two things all single heterosexual men want in abundance and two things they have learned we have whether we parade it or not. Most of these men – or boys – particularly in the environments many of us students find ourselves in – places with bars, raging libidos and testosterone – will go for anyone with these two body parts.

Therefore, no one can avoid these uninvited eyes and hands completely, boys will be boys n’ all but here’s a couple of simple drunk-proof ways I have personally found beneficial in the mission that is; the prevention of creeps getting too ‘up an creepy’ in my grill.

Avoid all/unnecessary eye contact. Upon the feeling of another’s eyes penetrating the back of your skull, predict its source like Mystic Meg and outsmart him. Just do a sly turn aiming to look beyond him, eye him up, assess and you’ll find that the most common reaction you’ll make evokes a violent push of your eyeballs out their sockets, simultaneously driving your nails into the arm of your friend.

Tab spent a fortune reconstructing the eye-bulging phenomenon.

Don’t give him the opportunity to penetrate anything else though. I am of course talking about him penetrating your ears with his slurring mumblings of hell. Ew, who do you think I am?

Oh, did someone call my name? The music’s ringing in your ears, pounding your drums to smithereens in a downfall of 90s cheese come radio1 chart spew. If a guy stops you and you don’t understand a thing he’s just said and it looks as though he doesn’t understand a thing he’s just said then acknowledge him – no one likes to be ignored – and start walking. He’ll be fine don’t worry; if he wanted to chitchat he’d be able to speak.

Now what I can tell you doesn’t work is acting the fool. You might very well be out with a group of mates you purely wanna’ piss about with (say, on the stage at Garage pushing to the front to give the serious kids a run for their money) but those moves you’re pulling (the one’s where you think you’re just having banter, where you’ve let go so much your head is barely still on your neck) those my friends, only make you look more intoxicated than the girl dancing with her eyes shut (even if you had only had a couple of gins). And a girl like this is still worryingly attractive to many guys. Seemingly intoxicated girl = easy = sleaze’ gold. FUCK. P.s all these parentheses are purely hypothetical, no connection to myself, whatsoever. If it all gets a bit too much up there on said stage and he won’t stop grabbing your derrière even though you’re dancing like an electrocuted piglet, then just push him off the stage.

Shit, I forgot my parentheses. Woops.

The spectacular creep. A rare breed.

Which brings me back poetically to avoiding all eye contact because this is no longer a joke; you’ve just pushed a highly charged vodka riddled male off a stage. And you’re about 5ft 4.