10 Types of Women Who Don't Want to Sleep With You And Why

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As a people, we have been spoiled by '90s sitcom plots. How many times did an older tutor try to put the moves on Stephanie Tanner or Topanga Lawrence back in the day? This happened about as often as the dads in these shows had to apologize for missing little league games. In real life, however, this is not how things work. Think about it. Your client is relatively dumb, particularly when it comes to the subject that you know so much about you make a living talking about it. Once a week, you arrive at their parents' house or their tiny dorm room and try your best to get them to grasp rudimentary concepts of the subject, which usually fails.

Swoon. Can you think of a better way to get in a woman in the mood?

It's very simple really. You go to her to get in better shape, which means she is in better shape than you. Why in the world would she want to sleep with you when she is surrounded by men who are in better shape than you are? You may say, "Oh, but I have a great personality." Is personality what first attracted you to your aerobics instructor or personal trainer? Did you find her instructions on rhythmic breathing profound? He tips on form deeply moving? This woman gets hit on by her students so often that it's an occupational hazard, so if you must make a move, at least wait until your spin class membership has lapsed.

Someone has been watching too much Mad Men. If you have risen through the ranks of corporate America quickly enough to have an assistant (or intern, you cheapskate), don't think it entitles you to a workplace romance. There are two ways this can work out for the lady working your desk. Either she'll be asked to resign or she'll forever be branded as the woman who has her job because she slept with her boss.

You may be thinking to yourself, "but, she's so nice to me." That's what you hired her for, not for afternoon quickies while you're on a conference call.

The beach-front resuscitation turned make-out session is a fantasy that has plagued pop culture since before the dawn of Baywatch. Yeah, your clammy, lifeless body hacking and coughing back to life on the sand is really going to get her excited. Think about it from the lifeguard's perspective. She is surrounded by muscular men who have nothing better to do than tan and do push-ups all day, and you think she is going to fall for you, the kid who is at the shore for the week skim boarding and fly-fishing with his parents? Just buy one of those stupid lifeguard sweatshirts like everybody else and forget about it.

If your superior is going to sleep with you, and this is true whether you're working the counter at Burger King or managing hedge funds, she has to ask herself if it is worth a lawsuit. Hell hath no fury like a subordinate scorned, and anyone who has come to manage anything has endured more than their fair share of HR-mandated seminars reaffirming this fact. They might like you, but they probably don't like you enough to risk the power that allows them do things like hire attractive underlings and custom order office chairs.

No, you aren't imagining things. She is being really nice to you: This is because she survives on tips. Face it: You can't have a real conversation with your server as she bustles from table to table, dealing with the neediness of over a dozen people at once. No matter how well you pronounced the one foreign item on the menu, no matter how patiently you waited for more coffee, no matter how many clever puns you threw out as she brought you extra ranch dressing, you likely didn't have "a moment." If you're hell-bent on making a pass at her, just jot your number down on the bill, so she can ignore it in peace.

If you think about it, the nurse fantasy has to be one of the most ridiculous flights of fancy ever to cross the male psyche. What makes you think that the woman who shoved a catheter in your sickly body and emptied your bed pan is going to jump your bones as soon as they heal? Even if overworked, often exhausted nurses had time to fit in a little patient foreplay, how exactly is that going to work? Is she just going to pull the dividing curtain so that the old man dying in the bed next to you doesn't spoil the mood and then proceed to go to town on your atrophied body? Enjoy your jello cup and soap operas because that's the extent of the excitement you are going to experience while you are laid up.

Teen sex comedies like American Pie brought cougar hunting to the forefront of many teenage minds. Now, forget it. Even if you are of age, rarely does a woman want the reputation of hooking up with her kid's friends. If word gets out, it would be hard for her to show up at the local diner, let alone face her disgusted child. It's not likely that you offer much to your local divorced beauty anyway. The complexities of adult life make it difficult to suffer through stories of undecided majors and wild house parties, even in the afterglow of a bedroom romp. If the sex is anything short of phenomenal, she'll likely end up wishing that she had just stuck to Match.com.

Like men, ladies like to talk to each other about their sexual conquests. Nothing puts a damper on that gossip faster than if the topic of discussion is someone in the room's sibling. The level of awkwardness that this hook-up will cause is not often worth the evening making out in your parent's laundry room during little sis's slumber party. Such a hook-up can haunt a young lady's games of Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever for years to come, and for most young women, that is simply not worth it. Never will you ever sleep with your sister's friends, and there is a good chance that if you do, she won't remain your sister's friend for very long. Good job.

"Oh, no one's ever told me that I have pretty eyes." She forgot to add, "in the last five minutes." Unfortunately, a large part of being a bartender is enduring sexual harassment. If a cleavage bearing v-neck and a few kind words will keep you at the bar, then that's what she'll have to provide. But don't mistake this for flirtation: there is a 99% chance she isn't interested. Close your eyes for a moment. Imagine a liquor-soaked man, leaning over the bar, eyes bloodshot, cheeks red, at last call. He drunkenly stutters, "Hey, umm, so, yeah, it was really nice talking to you. Do you think, maybe, I could, umm, get your phone number, and, maybe, I could call you some time?" Is that who you want to be? Then go back to nursing your beer and depression in silence, guy. Everyone will be better off.