Humanity is facing a population crisis, and there is only one reason why. Women are growing more attractive, while the men are staying their plain old selves. In fact, even distinguished men with PHDs such as myself have a hard time finding an appropriate partner. To make matters worse, gender equality is at an all-time high, so the traditional solution was no longer “acceptable.” To combat this problem, my branch of the US Biology Department has been tasked with finding some form of chemical solution to this ever-increasing issue. It was under the direst circumstances, and a stipend of 17 billion dollars taken out of the education budget, that we set out to cure the U.S. fear for our very future.
In order to test our treatments, we needed to create an environment that could be recreated over and over. AI was thrown out immediately. Robots cannot love, otherwise I’d have a robot girlfriend. Then we debated simply trying to find similar people to test but could not find a large enough sample size.
Finally, we came to the perfect solution. We found a man and a woman who had both undergone traumatic brain injuries to their frontal posterior labitical lobe, resulting in their inability to utilize their short-term memory for longer than a day. In other words, they were both Drew Barrymore from “50 First Dates.” It was perfect.
In addition, both of the patients fit exactly into the physical criteria that we were looking for. The male patient codenamed “Fonz” was positively average in every conceivable category besides an extreme aversion to Fijian-style rainmakers, we believe this had something to do on a subconscious level to his traumatic accident.
The Female, “Girl” was every bit as snobbish and beautiful as needed. Unfortunately, her brain injury has left her unable to speak or understand most words in the English language. However, I do not foresee that being an issue.
With the background information concluded, I will move on to the trials. What is recorded henceforth will surely be echoed through the annals of history.
Trial 1
Trial 1 was a test run, to be used as a control to measure different strategies and formulas against. It was decided that the best way to operate the tests was to simulate a possible pre-coital meeting. Also known as “the flirtation stage. ” I myself have entered this stage many times with many beautiful women.
After copious discussion with my team, we all agreed the likeliest place to see a woman who would agree to mate was an establishment of the spirits, in other words, a bar. I myself was a champion of this setting, having enjoyed many a “Hooters” in my pastime.
The test begins thus:
30 minutes into the test, “Fonzie” has still not approached the female. He has ingested 4 beers and has alternated between looking at the weather forecast for the upcoming day and scrolling through his “tik-tok” feed without volume. The female has not noticed his presence despite the fact that they are the only two people in the bar.
The female walks back towards the bar, likely to get a drink, the male patient clocks this movement and rushes to finish his beer. It appears he is planning to meet the female at the bar in order to buy her a drink. Unfortunately, he has mistimed his strategy and over half of his beer remains. The Fonz spills most of the beer on himself before he scoots his way out of his booth and walks towards the bar.
The Fonz offers to buy the girl a drink, however she does not respond. Typical. In fact, the girl seems to be ignoring him completely. Actually. it almost looks like she is drooli–oh dear, end of trial.
Trial 2
We have increased the alcohol dosage amounts supplied in each beer. Now each drink is equal to approximately 4 alcoholic substances. Let the love bloom.
Fonz vomits explosively after his first sip. However the girl seems to appreciate her drink; Typical.
End of trial.
Trial 3
We have altered the taste to be more acceptable for the male patient.
Fonz quickly wolfs down 3 of the concoctions, barely giving himself time to scroll through the weather forecast in Malaysia.
As he scoots out of his booth, he briefly falls onto his face on the floor. The girl clearly notices, however appears to be more focused on keeping her own balance on the chair.
The male stumbles to the bar next to the female and puts his hand on her shoulder. She maces him. I forgot that we had supplied them with mace.
Fonz pulls the mace from his pocket and attempts to retaliate. He misjudges the nozzle and doses himself.
My hopes remain. I think.
End of trial.
Trial 9
We have stocked the bars with actors, some appearing to be both the girl’s and the Fonz’s friends. While they are all better looking than the Fonz, they have been explicitly directed not to engage with the female patient.
The Fonz enjoys frivolities with his male counterparts, including jostling and a strange ritual of testicle slapping followed by laughter. I am well aware of all of these rituals of course, as I have many friends.
The women are busy huddled into a corner whispering to each other whilst making covert glances at the men.
In the end, the Fonz only attempted to talk to women other men were seen engaging with, appearing to wholly ignore the female. We speculate this was due to a sense of insecurity felt next to the more attractive compatriots. In the end, only the actors went home with each other.
A minor setback, I am sure.
End of trial.
Trial 20
Our efforts do not appear to be making any progress. I am growing more and more afraid that attractive women will never be attracted to men with great personalities and intellect. Like me for instance.
We tested this hypothesis in this trial.
We surgically reconstructed Fonz’s face. We made adjustments in order to give him the visage of a handsome man, however, make no mistake, underneath the numerous incisions and silicone, a bland man remains.
In the bar, the female continued to ignore the male patient. This is par for the course. On the other hand, the male patient appeared to also steadfastly ignore the female. We believe he now deigned himself worthy of being approached, so he refused to cater to the wishes of the female, thus avoiding a power play.
Both patients sat on different sides of an empty bar facing slightly diagonal angles.
I do not understand why none of these strategies have worked. We have consulted the textbook, “the game” and none of the clever strategies listed have had any degree of success. Perhaps if we alter the severity of the mace…
End of trial.
Trial 47
There is no hope. Our trials have gotten stranger and more desperate; People, no people, face implants, no face implants. We truly do not know what else could possibly affect a woman’s willingness to sleep with a man. I am beginning to wonder how many more incisions and chemicals we can inject into Fonz.
On a whim, we listened to an intern who suggested perhaps giving the male patient money and power.
The male patient slides out of the booth, and immediately his pants fall down, weighed down by the gold bars we have placed in his pockets. The female’s head spins; her interest is piqued. The male attempts to raise his pants to their original position, but he is unsuccessful (after a batch of chemical experimentation he lost the ability to grip with his fingers). He shrugs and shuffles towards the bar.
As he sits down, the next part of our plan comes into play. Tattooed into his arm are the missile launch codes for the American ballistic missile program. A clear indication of the man’s power. Paired with the pants gold, clearly, he is a man of means.
The woman touches his arms, and gives a smile, drool literally spilling out of her mouth. This time I assume due to intense sexual interest.
The man whispers something in her ear and she smiles, nodding. They both stand to leave. The other scientists and I watch in shock. The intern leans in the doorway grinning knowingly. I never realized how wise eighteen year olds are.
Suddenly the T.V. monitor showing the scene cuts out, and the hallway alarms start to blare. Something has gone terribly wrong.
Security rushes to the test room but it is too late. The woman is gone, and the Fonz is standing like an idiot next to a hole in the wall dazed with his pants around his ankles. We ask him where she is, and he responds idiotically “Who?” damn it. The day must have ended.
End of trials.
It turns out that the female actors had conspired to help the female patient break out of the tests. Each time they came they must have found some way of giving her instructions she could follow. Then finally they blew a hole through the wall into the sewer system, and she booked it. To be honest I do not understand at all how they, or most importantly, the female patient managed this at all.
I guess there’s more to women than I thought.
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