Table Of ContentTHE ANTI PICK UP LINE
Table of Contents
The End
Chapter 1: My Story
Chapter 2: Why I wrote this book
Coda: Acknowledgements
Chapter 3: Fear Hunting
Chapter 4: Foundations
Chapter 5: Physicality
Chapter 6: Before you say a damn thing
Chapter 7: Initiating a Conversation
Chapter 8: Conversation on Steroids: Improv Games
Chapter 9: Conversation – Reshaping Common Questions
Chapter 10: Having Standards
Chapter 11: Boundaries
Chapter 12: Kissing
Chapter 13: Sexualizing
Chapter 14: Conveying Non-Judgmentalness
Chapter 15: Adios Amigos
The End
“Charlie, can you take care of this for me?”
He’s pointing to the neatly stacked glasses and the bottle of Grey Goose on the
table. Fifteen blonde girls are waiting with their eyes on us, trying to be polite.
Classy. But they are obviously ready for some drinks.
“Sure, no problem.”
I step into the center of the group and scoop ice into lines of glasses. Then pour
the cranberry (all the Manhattan girls prefer cranberry). Then the Goose. I hand
out the glasses to the girls. I flirt. When I finish, I pour myself a bit of Red Bull,
promise the girls I’ll be back, and wander out to the main area of the club.
Four dudes in suits are standing by the bar. Finance guys. They don’t have a
table so I’m guessing they each paid a $350 bar minimum, which they are going
after with a vengeance.
A Norwegian girl from our table wanders past and the finance guys lean forward
as a group. “Can I get you a drink?” one asks. “Hey, you’re really hot,” blurts
another.
She smiles, shows them the drink I just poured her, and walks past.
The guys settle back into the bar, muttering about how hot she is. I can’t take it.
“Hey guys, do you want to meet those girls?” I ask, pointing to the table of
blondes with their Cranberry Vodkas.
They look at me confused. “Yeah, for sure.”
I take them back to the table and introduce the finance guys to some of the girls.
I tell the girls to be nice. They laugh.
The guys are falling over themselves trying to speak. They crowd the two girls
on the periphery of the table and vie to ask them questions about where they are
from and what they do. One of the friends who can’t get a word in edgewise taps
me on the shoulder.
“Dude, is this your table?”
“Yeah, I guess, but help yourself. It doesn’t cost me anything.”
“Do you work here? Are you a promoter or something?”
“No. I sorta just help out by talking to the girls and having fun with them.”
“Huh? What do you do?”
“Well, clubs want a room full of pretty girls so that rich dudes will drop bank
just to walk in. They take care of the girls with all this. Except the girls can go to
any club, so they invite me out to make sure that the girls want to come to this
club. And I teach guys to do the same. It ain’t cheap, but it is better than blowing
$350 on a bar minimum just to walk in.”
He laughs, “Who the hell are you?”
I smile. “It’s a long story... “
Chapter 1: My Story
“It’s a funny thing about life: if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you
very often get it.”
- W. Somerset Maugham I’ll never love a girl like I loved Tiffany.
For 14 months she was the first thing I thought of in the morning and the last
thing I thought of before I went to bed. And after 14 months I was finally going
to do it. I was going to kiss her. I knew it would be awesome, the culminating
moment of my life. But then again, I didn’t know at all what it would be. I’d
never kissed a girl before.
I was driving her home on the night I changed that. We got to her house and she
unbuckled her belt and said goodnight.
I couldn’t squeak out a single word. All I could think was “OH GOD, OH GOD,
OH GOD!!” I just had to kiss her. There was nothing else.
Without a word I leaned over and traced the route from my lips to hers. I dive-
bombed in.
Except when I leaned over, my foot slipped off the brake. Which shouldn’t have
mattered at all, except I was too hopped up on adrenaline to remember to put the
car in park. So when my foot slipped off the brake, the car lurched forward. And
the path I’d traced between our lips was compromised.
Instead my forehead connected with her nose.
At age 16, my first kiss turned into my first headbutt. Tiffany ran out of the car
giggling. I drove home punching the steering wheel and swearing at the top of
my lungs.
My First Headbutt was no isolated incident. A year later, the same mix of
shyness/awkwardness earned me the senior superlative for “Most Likely to
Break Out of His Shell in College.” Out of a class of 505 students, I was the
shyest boy.
Shedding the shell
I sort of did break out of my shell in college. I resolved to talk more and I did. I
resolved to go to parties and I did. I resolved to do better with girls, too. And that
had pretty much zero impact.
Take Jane. Sophomore year, Jane liked me before she even met me. She asked a
mutual friend to be introduced to me because she thought I was cute. I agreed to
meet her, and was stunned to find out that Jane was both cool and straight up
gorgeous.
I remember sitting outside her dorm room and talking for an hour. When another
guy sat down with us I fell silent. It didn’t matter. Jane and I had clicked. And I
already had confirmation she liked me. I was in.
That was Thursday. I texted her on Friday. I texted her on Saturday. I wrote on
her Facebook wall on Sunday.
On Monday I told her friend that I wanted to invite her to formal. “Probably not
a good idea,” she told me, “Jane said she isn’t really interested anymore . . .”
Yep. In 72 hours I went from her secret crush to creepy dude to avoid. It
wouldn’t be the last time. In fact, that probably would have gone on forever if
not for one book purchase that changed my life.
I’m talking about The Game. The Bible shaped book that promised to turn
socially awkward dudes into Casanovas.
My discovery of The Game happened to coincide with a study abroad trip to
Europe. It was 32 girls and three other dudes, two of whom were gay. All of us
were living and traveling in extremely close quarters. And I had just found the
holy grail of attracting women. The odds were ever in my favor.
I read The Game. I studied it. I tried it. And I sucked even worse than before.
Not only did I suck, I was a total jerk. I wouldn’t hold a drink for anyone
because I thought it was “low value.” People flat out didn’t like me. I couldn’t
blame them. Over the course of the entire trip, I kissed one girl from our group
for about 10 seconds. At the end of the semester, I had made out with fewer girls
than my gay roommate.
Despite the jerky behavior it encouraged, The Game will always be the book that
most changed my life for this reason: it taught me that I could choose myself.
After all, I had chosen to act like a jerk in no time at all.
With some adjustments, I could figure out the social puzzle and live it right. In a
way that made people like me WITHOUT getting caught up in the crazy arms
race of constantly striving to be “high value.”
Chapter 2: Why I wrote this book
“Son, always tell the truth. Then you’ll never have to remember what you said
the last time.”
- Sam Rayburn
“Dude, you know that’s the biggest daytime show in Australia, right!?”
We’re sitting in our apartment in Rio. The six of us are catching up in the main
room, just like we do every other day. Except today, Scott found out he’s going
to get his first 15 minutes of fame.
The “Man Who Can’t Lie,” they’ll call him in the tagline under his face. By the
time it’s over, he’ll have made multiple radio and TV appearances across
multiple continents.
Rio Academy
And it all started, with a simple life rule of the .
Never lie.
Seems simple enough. I’ve been abiding by it (rather, trying as hard can and
correcting any slip ups) for 2 years now. Scott started 4 months ago. It seems
normal.
But it’s not normal to the world. It was so abnormal that a blog post on how
100% honesty improved Scott’s life sparked all this media uproar. And now my
client, roommate, and good friend is making TV appearances.
That’s what happens when you hold yourself to extraordinary standards.
Countless other self-improvement books exist. Books that promise to make you
a better, happier, more attractive you. Why add mine to the fray?
Good question.
First off, the self-improvement/social skill revolution still hasn’t gone far
enough. People still aren’t choosing themselves. Word needs to be spread.
The only advice most guys have ever gotten with regard to their relationships is
still, “just be yourself.”
UGH! What a destructive cliché. You might as well say, “Ignore the fact that
your current actions are leading to repeated disappointment, less-than-ideal
relationships, and poor self-esteem. Everything you are doing today is perfect,
simply because it’s what you are already doing.”
Newsflash: You are not stuck with the social success you have today. You can
become the guy everyone notices when he walks in a room. You can make more
friends AND date more amazing girls. Life can be better than the movies if you
focus on improving yourself in this area.
If I can wake even one guy up and make him take control of his life and the
relationships in it, I’ll be ecstatic.
Secondly, The Game and the community it spawned are bastions of immorality.
Many (not all) of the guys who practice “Game” have this “get my dick wet at
any cost” mentality. They say:
If you don’t want to date a girl, just tell her what she wants to hear
so she gives it up.
Other guys are chumps. Ignore them or blow them out.
If she has a boyfriend, use boyfriend destroyers (lines specifically
designed to make her cheat) and bang her anyway.
If you need to make up a story about yourself to seal the deal, do it.
After all, like it says in The Game, “It’s not lying, it’s flirting.”
Fuck that. It’s lying. And it’s borderline sociopathic. You’re better than that.
You don’t need to lie to get girls. And you don’t have to walk around with a chip
on your shoulder. You can be a good guy AND a total stud.
What’s worse is the mindset that underscores that desire to lie. That quick fix, If
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