The Anti Pick Up Line

72 Pages·2014·2.68 MB·English

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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.”
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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... “
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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
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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.

SSHHEEDDDDIINNGG TTHHEE SSHHEELLLL

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.
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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.”
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- 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.

And it all started, with a simple life rule of the Rio Academy.

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.
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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:
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• 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 you’ve struggled with the lack of moral concern in the Game
community, you’re in the right place. No humans were harmed
in the making of this book. None need to be in the practicing of
its contents.

Lastly, I wrote this book because some people dismiss
developing stronger social habits as robotic and manipulative.

You have guys who go out and talk about whatever comes to
mind. They say: “If a girl doesn’t like me, screw it. She was a
bad match anyway.”

Agreed. Except one problem: when the girl at the bar is
uninterested after 5 minutes of conversation, it’s not necessarily
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because you guys didn’t click. It’s because you were talking
about boring shit in a bar!

Yes, be authentic. But you should also learn how to consistently
attract the women you’re interested in instead of writing them
off as bad matches any time you bore them.

We all have habits of interaction: take, for instance, “Hey, I’m
Charlie, what’s your name, what do you do, bla, bla, bla.” That’s
a habit – just a common, boring one. Habits are inescapable.

The goal shouldn’t be to do what you’ve always done because
you identify old habits as “the real you.” It should be to develop
killer, authentic habits that convey the most awesome things
about yourself. It should be to share yourself authentically with
the people you come into contact with. It should be to grow as a
conversationalist and human.

No more knocking social practice. Purposely building stronger
habits is not manipulative. It makes you a better person. It
allows you to connect on a real level.

That’s why I wrote this book. I want to show you how to
practice killer people skills while remaining a decent human
being. And I want the courage and authenticity you practice to
permeate all aspects of your life.

Coda: Acknowledgements

What you are about to read is a compilation of 6+ years of
reading, practicing, and refining teachings from lots of different
books.

I love books.