Fucking Day: The Single Girl's Guide to Meeting European Men (Patreon)

There are certain people I think should be disqualified from writing dating advice books: hot people. You look at a guy like Mystery or Godek, and you think, yes, this man has to work very hard to get a woman’s attention. If he has ever actually managed to copulate with a woman, that would be a book-worthy accomplishment.

However, when a rich 20-year-old cheerleader goes to Europe, and men descend upon her in a never ending wave like Galaga aliens, I’m sorry, but that’s not an accomplishment. You don’t need to write a book about how, surprisingly, an attractive young woman can have a lot of sex if she wants to. But, of course, someone did.

Katherine Chloé Cahoon telling the average woman how to get men is like Shaq writing a book called Basketball Is Easy, Just Be Seven Feet Tall. The author’s name alone, Katherine Chloé Cahoon, is bullying me. She did the research for this book while studying abroad in Europe during college because being a cheerleader and going to school didn’t leave her much time during the rest of the year, so she made sure to visit Europe every summer and do all her sexin’ then, like a squirrel binging on nuts before hibernating all winter. A lot like that, actually.

Even the dedication of this book is a flex. Katherine Chloé dedicated her novel to so many men she doesn’t even know all of their names. She lists them like they’re background actors in a movie—special thanks to, I want to say, French? lifeguard and tall guy with penis muscles.

Katherine begins her book by saying, “Every girl leaving for Europe has a different man fantasy.” This is true; my man fantasy is a minotaur because they would give amazing piggyback rides and never get lost. She does a really good job of reducing men to sexualized person chunks in this book. She refers to them as “targets” and doesn’t have a ton of respect for their culture.

At one point, she says she has a girlfriend who wanted to “get laid” in unique cultural landmarks. If I said I wanted to eat ass in the Liberty Bell or get to third base on Mount Rushmore, that would be weird, but things are naturally sexier in Europe. Go ahead and bone down at their cultural landmarks. That eighth grade class visiting the Eiffel Tower is getting a cultural experience and an anatomy lesson in one day!

Wow, even Katherine’s hot rich cheerleader friends were getting laid in Europe? Wild. Katherine shares a lot of fun and normal anecdotes from her young rich friends who also miraculously managed to have sex in Europe. They’re mostly cute little stories that amount to, “Wow, my friend had sex with her surfing instructor. Can you believe that!” Of course, I can, you nerd. That’s the least exciting sexcapade I’ve ever heard in my entire life. That’s like saying, “The baroness in my romance novel was seduced by the attractive stable boy. Have you ever heard of such a thing?” Then there are stories like the time her friend’s dad accidentally lost her friend in a game of backgammon.

Welcome to Europe’s zaniest new game show, Whoops I Sold My Daughter. Obviously, this book is a little dated. I mean, it was written in, oh wow, 2010. Ok, I feel like most parents in 2010 were aware that gambling your daughter wasn’t cool, and “I was pretty buzzed at the time” isn’t a great excuse for that.

I have to wonder how all of Katherine’s “friends” feel about her sharing these stories in her book. The stories she tells about herself are pretty flattering, like the time she was mistaken for a race car driver’s girlfriend and stalked by the paparazzi. Her “friends,” however, split up the less flattering anecdotes, like the girl whose cousin pushed her down a mountain so she could flirt with some Swedish guys. Or, the friend she calls straight up ugly as a parable for how even ugly girls can get laid under the right circumstances.

How many of Katherine’s friends do you think read this, called her up, and said, “Hey, great book, um, which of us is at best a five?” Pro-tip for people writing a dating book: if you call your friend a real uggo in it, bury that a little deeper in the book. This is on page 34; even the people who only skimmed it will find that.

Katherine tells a few embarrassing stories about herself in the book, but they’re way more embarrassing than she thinks. For example, she talks about a man getting offended on a date because she requested ketchup at a nice restaurant. That’s a pretty typical story. Some people have been putting ketchup on steak their whole lives, and it’s a bit low-class, but who cares? Friends, she says she put the ketchup on lobster, and I would have been less disturbed if she ate it shell and all like the mermaid in Splash.

She does get dumped for putting ketchup on the lobster, so we know that although Katherine is pretty, she’s not pretty enough to get away with that shit. There’s some other creepy behavior in this book that really highlights how everyone who writes a bad book on dating is the same flavor of weirdo. The book is sprinkled with “man-meeting tidbits,” which I refuse to make a joke about because it’s too easy. One of the man-meeting tidbits is: if you’re taking a class in something like skiing or ice skating, you should ask for an instructor you might want to date!

“Yes, I would like to learn how to ice skate from a male 25-35, preferably over six-foot, blonde hair, eyes can be blue or green, abs, and maybe, like, an accent? Symmetrical balls, cut, oh, this isn’t a person buffet? It’s an ice skating rink? Sorry, my bad.” If a man did this, he would deserve to go straight to horny jail, probably regular jail, and this woman deserves the same.

The man-meeting tidbits are where I found the most terrible dating advice from a hot girl. I feel like I can sense that this woman sat down and was like, “What would make it difficult for a woman who’s more than a five at best to get men? Ah, I know: perhaps the problem is simply that the men cannot physically see them.

Men are naturally programmed to want something to eat or drink is the most alien-explaining-humanity sentence I’ve ever read. Does she think women don’t need food or drink to survive? That would explain the lobster ketchup story, I guess.

There’s an overall lack of creativity in this book that’s almost impressive. Katherine wanted to brand herself as a Carrie Bradshaw type. Her author bio even says that she’s “working with producers on the screenplay of the book, which they refer to as Sex And The City meets Love Actually in the hot spots of Europe.” I wonder who will play the ugly friend? Are you in talks with Danny Devito? Because he’s a nine, Katherine Chloé.

To make herself seem like more of an expert on the topic of showing your Laffy Taffy all over Europe, she tried to invent a bunch of hip new language to describe men and dating. Unfortunately, she wasn’t great at that.

Ah, yes, calling men who can dance “Groovers,” men who are into art, “Artsy,” and charismatic men, “Charismats.” She leaned into that with the skill of George Lucas shrugging while he writes down “Slimebo Badjob.” There’s an entire glossary in the back of the book, but it’s full of things you can gather from context, and I guarantee no one has ever needed it.

You’ll be surprised to hear that the screenplay for this never took off. Sex And The City and Love Actually have still never met, and after a decade as a relationship expert with only one book, Katherine became a weekend news anchor in one of the boring parts of New York. She will probably still give you advice on how to Karen all over Europe if you ask for it.

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