Forget the complex advice from dating gurus about negging, peacocking and being an alpha male. All you really need to know is one thing: You can puke on her and still get laid.

I learned this from a friend after he played a small music festival in Colorado. A girl he longed over for years showed up to his gig at a small bar. During his set, he drank an entire bottle of whiskey, and offered to escort her to her car afterward. The brisk night air filled his lungs and triggered projectile vomit to fly from his mouth all over her. However, before flying home, he still sexed her up.

Some may argue musicians can do things civilians cannot. That's possible, but he's no John Mayer. It had more to do with how he handled it.

Rather than freak out, he apologized, offered to pay for the dry-cleaning, and followed with a joke about that being one way to get her clothes off.

Women expect men to screw up. They also decide within minutes of meeting you if they will sleep with you. Which means they will forgive you for the most revolting mistakes ... if handled correctly.

Keep reading to find out how to make the best of a humiliating situation.

The Shart Surprise
Los Angeles comedian Ryan Flynn met his girlfriend of three years during a nightmare first date.

"I crapped my pants at the bar before even talking to her," he said. "I mistook it for just a fart." Embarrassed, he avoided her and began drinking heavily for lack of a better plan. "After blacking out, I woke up next to her naked. A towel was between us, because I pissed the bed. My fecal pants were stapled to the wall with my autograph next to it."

While I don't recommend this tactic for most, it's an extreme example that proves the point.

Ryan's inebriated state stripped away his armor and allowed him to have fun, despite having crappy pants. You have nothing to lose by laughing off mistakes, no matter how bad. Oddly enough, that exudes confidence.

The Walls Have Ears
I used to live next door to a girl whom my roommate nicknamed Crazy T*tties. She never seemed friendly, so we ignored her. However, after we moved out, she found me on MySpace and apologized for being bitchy. We decided to meet for happy hour.

After a couple drinks, she admitted she could hear everything I did in my room. This included the filthy conversations I had with my roommate, the porn played on my computer and her nickname, Crazy T*tties.

This explained her icy demeanor toward us. But I didn't get embarrassed; after all, she had chosen to contact me. I joked that she must have been flattered by her nickname. The next morning, I woke up in her bed.

We dated for months and I could hear the guy who lived in my old room. Quickly, I figured out why she had contacted me: The new guy was boring. Mistakes make men interesting.

Ryan McKee is an Asylum contributor and a degenerate.