The Way To A Guy’s Heart Isn’t Through His Stomach, It’s Through His Back


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I’ve spent my fair share of time studying the male species, and after extensive research, there are three things I’m absolutely sure of. The first is that if your man is a diehard fan of a team that loses a game, you need to allow for a twelve-hour emotional recovery period before bringing it up in conversation (or just play it safe and refrain from talking about it at all). The second is that no guy will ever be as cute as he is when he’s asleep/on the verge of falling asleep/just waking up. The third, and arguably most important lesson I’ve learned, is that the way to a guy’s heart isn’t through his stomach, but through back scratches.

For centuries, our mothers have insisted that the way to rope a man in is by cooking extravagant meals and opening his eyes to a world of domestic culinary perks. But it’s a new age, and we don’t have the time or the resources to spend half the day slaving away in the kitchen. We have jobs, and school, and drinking schedules that don’t allow for us to fit the gender norms that past generations pressured women into (until the day we realized we’re capable of so much more than concocting the perfect lasagna). It’s 2016, and we’ve traded in our spatulas for trendy almond-shaped acrylics.

I know, I know. It sounds way too simple and uncomplicated. But I think the one thing we can always expect from guys is honesty, at least in terms of their bodily reactions. He might feel zero remorse when insists he never went to second base with your roommate, which he did, but he’ll never be able to pretend like he hasn’t died and gone to heaven when you start gently baring your nails into his back.

I don’t know if it’s a mental, physical, or emotional reaction on his part; all I know is that something shifts, and even the laziest attempt will have him groaning while you flash your most evil Cruella de Vil smile behind the scenes. Don’t feel bad, you deserve to win this one. You’re a criminal mastermind and he’s the dopey dalmation who has just unknowingly walked straight into your trap. Soon enough you’ll have him posing for couple Instagrams and joining you for sexless Sunday night chick flick viewings. All he’ll expect in return is a ten-minute scratch while the credits are rolling and you’re ranting about how much of a bitch Allie’s mom was for hoarding Noah’s letters for an entire year.

I’m not suggesting that this should be a weapon to your disposal, like the way you withhold sex every time he likes another girl’s Instagram selfie. What I’m saying is that this whole situation is a win-win for everybody. Show me a man who doesn’t enjoy a good back scratch, and I’ll show you a sociopath who probably wasn’t held for the first four years of his life. Every guy loves a scratch sesh, and there’s never a bad time to pull up his shirt and to show that the offer is on the table (and to take a peek at the goods, because let’s be honest, a dude’s back is one of the sexiest parts of his body). If you don’t believe me, try it out on whatever lowlife you’re trying to take off the market. I guarantee he’ll be wrapped around your finger the second you start, proving once and for all that the way to a man’s heart isn’t through his stomach, but through his back.

Or I guess his penis would work, too.

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Lucky Jo is much less medicated than her mother and sister, and she tends to think that’s a good thing. She's the newest full-time addition to the Grandex office, which is probably why they gave her the shittiest desk. In her free time she enjoys scaring small children, judging her peers, and condescendingly talking to GDIs at Starbucks. Follow her on twitter for cat memes and complaints. Email her at

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