“Work hard. Know your shit. Show your shit. And then feel entitled.”

Not everyone can see the pedagogical value of a film about finding the clitoris, let alone apply its lessons to power networking. So, if you do have a special skill set like that, then flaunt it baby—and these easy to learn methods will show you how.

Estimated reading time, 15 minutes; if you haven’t already, please consider reading the introduction first. Photo by Carl Jorgensen on Unsplash.

I have a confession to make.

The truth is, if you’re reading this because we talked recently at an exhibition of your art, a screening of your film, your band’s gig, your lecture on the Korean #MeToo Movement, an information session about your NGO’s work, and so on, our meeting was no coincidence.

Unbeknownst to you, I’d already been all over your website and social media. When I liked what I saw, I decided I just had to meet you in person. Same applies if the event wasn’t even about you, but I knew you were coming.

Indeed, if we met during this cold winter especially, you, and you alone, may have been the only reason I left my apartment at all that day.

If those stalker-like vibes don’t already have you reaching for a lighter to burn my business card with though, I fear also revealing I would still never have had the guts to approach you, had I not once watched a film about finding the clitoris, will have you burying the ashes too.

But seriously, there’s a lot to cover before we get to that point, and we’ll only arrive there once we’re both good and ready. So instead, let’s start on how, the fact is, now you’ve taken the time to look me up too. And not simply because you appreciated my interest in your work either, because of my knowing your shit as it were. (Which, being genuine, was a very easy trick to pull off.) More, it was because you thought I also seemed to be interesting, my having tricked you with just enough long words and wide hand gestures to make me seem just as knowledgeable and passionate about my work as you are yours.

In other words, that I seemed to know my shit too.

Which was a lot harder to pull off. And even just six months ago, probably not something I’d have been capable of convincing you of at all.

So how did I do it?

My recipe to success has three main steps, with ever fresher and more active ingredients added at each. And like most recipe books these days, it may seem like I’m obliged to annoy you with a long and rambling anecdote before getting to the meat of this first one. Only, the anecdote is the meat. When I was 21, I did suffer from clinical depression, my crippling social anxiety always preventing me from overcoming my chronic loneliness. The advice I heard as I was recovering, did have me dancing shirtless to Ecuador in nightclubs by the summer, moving in with drag queens and flamboyant gay sex workers, getting on a plane to Korea, and giving lectures to audiences of hundreds. That same advice did, seemingly by magic, render that awkward nerd you thought you saw in the corner one minute at that party this winter, playing with the host’s cat, to that suave and sophisticated guy beelining you to shake your hand the next.

Do you have your pots and pans ready?

Fresh Breeze by Gil Elvgren, 1960. Source: Amazon.

1. “Do one thing, every day, that scares you.”

According to Wikipedia, Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen) by Baz Luhrmann, is a spoken word song based “on an essay written as a hypothetical commencement speech by columnist Mary Schmich, originally published in June 1997 in the Chicago Tribune.” Or, as I’ve always described it, a mellow background track to a middle-aged man just giving pithy pieces of life advice to people in their early-20s. Of which there’s so many and such a variety for them to digest, and their young minds so eager and receptive upon hearing most of them for the first time (prove me wrong), that it’s inevitable one or two will really, really stick. Which for me, was “Do one thing, every day, that scares you” at 1:22:

What “scared” me back then though? Ironically, not the dangerous sorts of things people’s minds usually jump to when they hear that line. (After all, I’d already bungy-jumped. Twice.) Rather, it was an intense fear of embarrassment, which meant I’d avoid a lot of everyday things that most of my peers did without thinking. Say, letting the barkeeper know she’d gotten my order wrong. Asking those loud people in the library to go outside to talk. Letting your professor know he’d given you the wrong readings for that week. Telling your boss you had to go to a wedding next week. Banging loudly on the bus door to get the driver to stop and let you on. Wearing clothes that showed the results of your long, hard years of working out and building houses every summer. Asking that woman in your class out on a date, because she’d already given you every sign she could that she’d absolutely say yes.

A shoutout to Katy Perry’s Firework (2010), which has much the same message.

Why they once caused such anxiety for me, would be drawing the anecdote out too far. Please just take my word for it then, that after ​Wear Sunscreen, I’d literally stop myself mid-step while walking away from those potential interactions, admonish myself, then turn around and just deal. In that bar for instance, I’d say to myself, don’t pretend that you don’t really mind you received the wrong order. That you still like the drink you got, that it’s exactly the same price, that it’s a busy night, and that the poor woman working behind the bar looks stressed. That you’re British, and we’re notorious for non-confrontation. No. Admit you’re just plain scared of asserting yourself, damnit, and go to her and politely but firmly ask for the drink you actually wanted. Which, of course, she happily obliged me with.

To be clear, I still dreaded doing all those things. The line in the song was no magic bullet. But after hearing it, intellectually I knew I had to do them. So I did. Only to discover that while I was doing them, they were usually every bit as scary and stressful as I’d imagined.

And yet afterwards, when I’d somehow emerged unscathed, I realized the experience left me just that little bit less scared at the prospect of facing them again. And by the tenth and twentieth times, kicking myself for not doing those sorts of things years ago.

I do realize these mundane, small steps hardly seem the stuff of motivational posters or Katy Perry videos, nor particularly earth-shattering to anyone who’s been doing them without thinking since childhood. But for those who can’t, to whom they don’t come naturally, mentally repeating the mantra and then forcing yourself every day to do such little acts anyway, constantly expands the boundaries of what you are capable of doing.

Keep at it, and you’ll be amazed at how what scared you even just a few months ago, what the cool kids did, now you too can do without so much thinking twice. The bigger, earth-shattering, unimaginable things, like moving halfway across the world, will suddenly start seeming very much like real possibilities too.

Eventually though, this method becomes less effective, through being a victim of its own success.

Partially because, push your boundaries often and far enough, and there’s only so many basic social interactions left to be hesitant about. Especially if you’ve hit your 40s, which comes with the brutal wake-up call that you have less than half of your life remaining—and exactly zero fucks left to give for most other people’s opinions. So, the notion that just talking to someone still “scares you”? As if. The mantra doesn’t remotely have the same resonance, same applicability, nor same motivational power any more.

Besides, and crucially, it was never a means to feel confident in the moment, really. It was a means to reflect after, realizing it wasn’t as bad as you expected, indirectly making you a little more confident the next time. Still vital in the long run, I’m still insisting, and still something I definitely quickly repeated to myself before I started zooming in on you that day. But somewhat lacking when you really, really need to find your mojo before something important.

“Oh, it’s amazing. When the moment arrives, that you know you’ll be alright.” (1:24) Shoutout to that line in Amazing (1993) by Aerosmith, which I repeated to myself just before I said hi to my first girlfriend!

If you’re genuinely scared and worried about the consequences of ever not doing your best then, of not nailing that interview, of not standing your ground when you complain to your boss of being passed over for promotion, of not asking your crush on a date, of not making a good first impression when meeting with your newest favorite artist, of failing to defend your thesis…and don’t really have a choice about avoiding those challenges either, then really, Wear Sunscreen has very little to offer you.

And with that, having explored so much, here’s where focusing on The Clitoris proves much more rewarding from now on. Specifically, what it—she?—says to Stan at 2:08, in the 1999 movie South Park: Bigger, Longer, & Uncut. Only, not unlike the real thing, it proves to be much deeper and more impactful and influential than a surface-level exploration of the topic would suggest:

2a. “Chicks love confidence (sic).”

Source: @alicexz. See here to buy prints!

Glorious double entendres aside for the moment though, I do want to stress that dating and romance is only one of many, many aspects of your life all of the advice offered in this series can be applied to. Also, that people’s reactions to confidence can be heavily influenced by privilege and traditional gender roles, with what works for men often actually putting women at a disadvantage, as I explore a concrete example of in the post below. That said, and my personal fetish for confident women who know their shit aside, I think it goes without saying that people will always be drawn to confident people in general, of whatever sex, and regardless of whether their attraction is sexual or platonic.

Only, it turns out it’s not their confidence that works on people per se, but the appearance of it. And that it works even when those go-getters themselves have been completely fooled into feeling that way, nothing else about them objectively having changed.

I’m working retroactively here, frankly, because I’m inserting this only after already writing what is now section 2b, about how to continue to feel confident after Wear Sunscreen has done its first half of the job. It’s just that boy, oh boy, were The Clitoris’s words to Stan—”Chicks love confidence” (sic)—ringing in my head while writing that next section. Eventually, they reminded me of a study I linked to back in 2008, “Manipulation of body odour alters men’s self-confidence and judgements of their visual attractiveness by women” by S. Craig Roberts, A. C. Little, A. Lyndon, J. Roberts, J. Havlicek and R. L. Wright in the International Journal of Cosmetic Science, 2009, 31, 47–54, in which the researchers conclude:

Okay, maybe you had to be there. Basically, for this study 35 heterosexual male subjects (aged 19-35) had been given one of two kinds of deodorants (scented and unscented) to use normally for 2 days. Before the most crucial part of the study, they’d given ratings (1-7) to how much they liked which one they’d received, with those men receiving the scented one generally giving it a much higher score than the men who received the unscented one gave that. Then, 15 minutes after putting on the deodorant again, all the men were asked for a headshot, then to produce short, presumably ultra-cringey, 1980s-style dating self-introduction videos (all these 3 things were done in private in the interview room). Later, female judges (sexuality not given, but presumably cishet) were asked to assess the men’s attractiveness based on either their headshots or videos.

All other variables being controlled for, not only did the women looking at headshots find the men who liked their deodorants to be much more attractive, which is extraordinary in itself:

(“D+” refers to men using the scented deodorant.)

But the women who watched their muted videos, who were able to pick up on their changed demeanor, were even more impressed:

You be the judge of how much these results would or wouldn’t apply to other sexes and situations. By all means, call me shamelessly projecting if you like. And of a norm based solely on cishet women’s tastes at that.

And yet, after having already stumbled on the method below to trick myself into feeling confident? And one dependent, above all, on projecting that confidence?

Back in ’99, The Clitoris’s advice to Stan felt like complete vindication of what I’d already been practicing. Today, learning what I’ve been doing below is also supported, this time by experimental evidence? Well, that was just the cherry on top…

2b. “Work hard. Know your shit. Show your shit. And then feel entitled.”

Photo by Valeria Nikitina on Unsplash.

Photo by ziphaus on Unsplash.

Remember how much I said I worked out in my early-20s? Once I finally stopped hiding my body, and instead chose to show it off (became notorious amongst Auckland bouncers for it even), I expected to get a lot of attention—I mean, who wouldn’t want this glorious man-flesh, I started thinking to myself as I walked down the street. In other words, my body was objectively the same, only now I was walking and talking like the world couldn’t get enough of it. Which is exactly what did seem to happen.

Now, apply this to a myriad of other potential examples.

Say, you’ve been hitting the gym yourself. But it’s only been a month, your gains are minuscule in reality. But you think they’re enough for people to notice. You expect attention, and confirmation bias does the rest. It puts a spring in your step, which people pick up on.

Or you got a quick haircut. It looks marginally tidier now. But what may only be a small difference in reality, makes all the difference in the world to you, who sees it all the time. Boy, do you look good in that elevator mirror now. People pick up on your glow as you step out too.

You got new clothes. A dress that shows off your figure, or you suited up. You expect attention, and get it. Your stereotypes about the shallowness of the male and female gazes is confirmed. Even though that attention may be just as much because the dress is so different from the plain work clothes you usually wear. Or the because the suit is well-tailored, so you don’t stand so stiffly. Either way, there’s definitely something about you that’s different.

You’ve been studying Korean for a month. You expect it to have made a difference. And of course, objectively you are better. But with the certainty that you must be better, surely, comes a certain je ne sais quois that goes way beyond simple metrics. You feel like you’re better. You speak more confidently. Your sentences seem to flow, in a way they never have before.

When objective self-improvements are definitely there and obvious however, perhaps it’s still unclear what Kaling’s words actually add. So let describe a recent personal example of networking that went badly, because I didn’t listen to them.

Last October, I was a judge at the first Seoul Whistler Film Festival (서울휘슬러영화제). From the outset, I want to say I’m very grateful for being invited, I had a great time, I learned a lot about how film festivals operate, and that despite everything I still made connections with a lot of interesting people. But for one very, very minor problem at the end, all the negatives I describe below were entirely my own fault—and I’m not just saying that because I promised to be a judge again this year either.

The first issue was that I live in Busan, nearly nearly three hours away on the train, and had to teach on the Friday afternoon it began. Knowing I’d be missing the opening party that night, and that half of the festival would already be over by the time I could make it the next day, meant it was entirely debatable whether I should even have gone at all really. So my mojo was already taking a major hit before I’d even left. It didn’t help either that, already running late, one of my cats threw up on my suitcase just as I was about to leave, forcing a mad scramble for even later tickets. Nor that, suitably cleaned, I’d have to be dragging it across town to the event both days. In a heatwave.

Clean and drag my suitcase across town I mean. Not one of my cats, despite their best intentions.

But these practical issues weren’t the real problem. Rather, leading up to the event, I’d only watched the three films I’d been assigned, and only knew about their directors and actors. Which to be clear, were all I was required and supposed to watch. But I should have taken advantage of my access to the whole line-up, and used my initiative to watch as many films as I could. Because, invited to be a judge for being a creative, rather than for what on the day suddenly felt like my virtually non-existent knowledge of films or the industry, that meant I had absolutely no idea what to say to other directors, actors, or just film-industry types in general. So I felt like if I did introduce myself, they’d be asking themselves the same questions I was—What was I even doing here? With only 20 minutes in between screening sessions, with so many actual experts and movers and shakers for them to meet, why was I wasting their time?

Of course, I did still schmooze some. I did know some long words, and was’nt afraid to use them. The debut outing of my brand new suit, half the cost of my monthly salary, definitely worked its wonders too. But I could have done so much better than I did.

You can imagine how I felt at the closing party then, when I got up from the densely-packed tables the organizers had unwisely crammed us all into, to discover that probably at least half of the people there were just like me—also creatives from outside of the film industry…

Photo by ziphaus on Unsplash.

Now, contrast that disappointment, thinking—feeling in my gut—that I knew neither their shit nor mine, with the situations I described in the introduction to the post. Certainly, the difference may totally sound akin to preparing for a job interview. But a) So what? And b) The vibe, the mojo, the je ne sais quois that comes with knowing you know your shit, can apply to, well, just about anything really.

I could have written about some of the terrible guest lectures I’ve given over the years for instance, thrown together at the last minute and was only bluffing my expertise in, then compared those to the ones I practiced repeatedly and thoroughly knew what I was talking about. Were those latter ones better because of all of that prep and my hitting the books? Yes. Were they even better still, because rather than constantly questioning myself right up to the moment the lights were dimmed, I had a new mantra that had me knowing, balls to bones, that, yes, I had done enough?

Also yes.

They’re not mutually exclusive. They’re mutually reinforcing. On the foundation of the hard work you have done, the latter one just gives you just enough of a final push to fool yourself into feeling 100%, and to get so good at it that you start fooling others too. Not unlike in “Those Old Scientists,” the Season 2, Episode 7 of Strange New Worlds, when Chief Engineer Pelia explains (0:23) heroes are just pretending to be really, until they themselves can’t tell the difference any more:

In that vein, knowing your shit is a lifestyle. You breathe it, every day. Ultimately, whatever tricks you may or may not be able to employ to facilitate a connection with someone, and regardless of whatever kind or personal, professional, or romantic relationship you’re seeking, if you’re not genuinely happy in your own life, and don’t have enough going on in it to feel excited and confident about it, then people are always going to pick up on that.

Dating-wise especially, this is different to the generic advice of concentrating on your own life, because you’ll find someone as soon as you stop looking. Which I’ll explore in more depth in the next, Part 2 of this series, so for now let me conclude with a real-life, recent example to show how.

(But please don’t worry—I did say in the introduction I was going to avoid the subject as much as possible. So this minor exception is definitely not TMI!)

Before the pin dropped when I read Mindy Kaling’s book, I hadn’t realized my general lack of confidence meant I had a terrible habit of avoiding looking at people when we were talking. Especially at women, and especially those I was romantically interested in. Even with the closest of long-time totally platonic female friends, if we locked eyes mine would invariably shoot away to my coffee cup, to the window, to my phone, to the floor, to my food, to the spider I thought I suddenly saw on the ceiling—literally anywhere but back to their face. Then, to my utter chagrin after literally just writing about how happy I was giving up on dating, inexplicably I found myself on a date anyway…

This time, could I have made it a real point not to look away from her, because just about every dating Instagrammer says that’s a real turn-off? Sure, of course. And, when instinct and habit had me turning away regardless, reminded myself to do that oh-so-scary thing anyway? Absolutely, yes, that’s exactly what Part 1 was all about.

Only, I’m already so confident and happy with what I’ve got going on in my life at the moment, I didn’t even realize I hadn’t looked away at all until, three hours in, I was informed of how lovely my dreamy grey eyes were. Which I now realize I’ve been unfairly depriving the world of all this time. And honestly, I can’t stress how much happier and even more confident knowing this makes me still.

So what if I could have done with this ego boost nearly three whole decades ago? I’ll take whatever combination of all the above advice and experience works for me now, thank you very much. Just like I hope you do too.

And with that, the next step of the recipe, how I got to that stage, a total 180 degree transformation from years after my divorce spent feeling lonely and miserable, will be the subject of the next post in this series. Like this one, also inspired by dating—but applicable to so much more besides!

(For ease of navigation, here are the three groups of posts in this series; I’ll add links to each as they go up.)

• Introduction: Life is Immense 인생은 광대해

• Part 1 (This one!)
  • 1. “Do one thing, every day, that scares you.”
  • 2a. “Chicks love confidence (sic).”
  • 2b. “Work hard. Know your shit. Show your shit. And then feel entitled.”

• Part 2
  • 3. “Being single can be hard—but the search for love may be harder.”
  • 4. It’s Okay to be Lonely
  • 5. Use Insights from Psychology and Therapy
  • 6. Smile Like You Have Laser Tits

• Part 3
  • 7. Make a Conscious Decision to Leave the Purgatory. Live Lewis’s Thought Exercise
  • 8. The Rest
  • 9. Life is Immense 인생은 광대해

Related Posts:

• When “How to Own the Room” is Really Just a Lesson in Male Privilege
• Single Korean Women Already Have to Pay Extra to Stay Safe in Their Homes. They Don’t Need to be Infantilized in the Process
• How Slut-Shaming and Victim-Blaming Begin in Korean Schools
• “Spring Girls,” by Sunwoo Jung-a, Is Both Feminist and as Sexy as Hell. Lets Give It the Attention It Deserves
• The Hidden Roots of Korea’s Gender Wars

If you reside in South Korea, you can donate via wire transfer: Turnbull James Edward (Kookmin Bank/국민은행, 563401-01-214324)