Recollections of a Pick Up Artist
I always get the girl, and how I do it is exceedingly simple. I neg. If you are like 90% of the underprivileged male populace, negging has eluded you. Welcome to my world, partner. A neg, according to the PUA Dictionary, is “an offhand comment that plays with a girl’s insecurities, usually uttered in a big-brother-like tone.” Mystery, Neil Strauss – all the greats use them to devastating effect. Fact is, girls like to be insulted. We’ve all heard the “treat them mean, keep them keen” adage, but often fail to grasp how essential it really is.
I once achieved intercourse after, midway through a make-out session, seizing a mandolin and jiving about the room, whilst hooting like an ape. When the girl’s expression transitioned from confusion to anger, I allowed a stream of saliva to drip from my contorted face, and, winking, shouted: “Now you’ve made out with the evil mandolin monkey man!” Needless to say, she was consumed by desire, and I had scarcely reached the chorus of Guantanamera when she snapped the instrument in twain with her thigh muscles.
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though. I usually begin by adding a prospective target on facebook. From the anonymous vantage point of cyberspace I can analyze her religious and political beliefs, and study pictures of her frolics with bisexual friends. Then, I’ll send her a message. Something along the lines of “Hi there — just letting you know that you rarely, if ever, cross my mind,” usually gets the pot simmering. If I’m feeling confrontational, I’ll comment on one of her pictures. “Geez, SOMEONE needs to work out,” is among my most lucrative lines.
Some of you may think these online advances without prior acquaintanceship could be construed as creepy – and you are correct. It is common knowledge in Pick Up Circles that the creepy guy gets the girl — have you not seen the twilight films? When I meet a girl in person, the first thing I do – it has become almost instinctual – is react to her as though she is extremely foul-smelling. Then I’ll disappear for a week or so. The girl’s thought processes go something like: “The day after that, he was a no show. What is this guy’s DEAL?” “All I know is I am irrevocably in love with him.”
Darwin theorized that our desire for physical intimacy is due to a latent nostalgia for the womb. I suppose that sheds some light on my friday-night-ritual of filling the bathtub with amniotic fluid. But that is neither here nor there – we Pick Up Artists don’t dwell on the biological cogs of human behavior. It’s a waste of time, and it doesn’t exactly share the benefits of Cialis. We are concerned only with the unequivocal power of the neg. Sometimes at seminars a guy will ask, “What if she negs me back?” And my answer is always the same – “Do you really want to be with a girl who has self esteem?”
There’s no limit to it. I think nothing of taping a picture of Ronan Keating to a girl’s back during the act of love. When she confronts me, I stifle a whimper, and allow a single tear to roll down my face as I choke: “But it helps me.” This sort of shit certainly isn’t for beginners, but it’s like the Hiroshima of negging. She’s thinking, “How does he think of me? Is he gay? Am I nothing but a worthless mannequin on which he projects his homosexual fantasies?” At that point its pretty much open season, and I reach for the mandolin.
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Even as I write this now I am debating whether or not to erase it all together.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I love the story I can tell to my next lover, about my ex-lover, about how beautiful things were, how intense, how storybook, what a couple we were, and how you gradually, inexplicably, painfully, bit by bit, disappeared.
“I used to be afraid of failing at something that really mattered to me, but now I’m more afraid of succeeding at things that don’t matter.”
I was 24 and, while not gay, ever since college I had been getting more attention from gay men than from heterosexual women.