Call me a raging cynic with an agenda of hate, but I'm always extremely skeptical when some "self-help guru" attempts to unlock life's mysteries for me - coming off as some sort of Yoda-like figure on steroids, taking time out of their precious schedule to lead the masses of the uninformed on the path of eternal enlightenment. But for the longest time, whenever these people gained any sort of notoriety - in my subconscious I always thought to myself "We Don't believe you, you need more people!!!" years before Jay-Z ever uttered those words(of course I was paraphrasing). Not only because their advice always seemed pretty obvious and pedestrian in nature, but didactic preaching does nothing but set you up to be a hypocrite somewhere down the road - just look at how may "family values" guys turned out to be bona fide sperm connoisseurs, and the supposed men of god who use their wife's body as a punching bag when they aren't preaching Sunday service or mentoring young people. I can just imagine all of the pissed off couples who maintained an intimately dead marriage just because one of Tony Robbins' seminars urged them to do so - despite the fact that he divorced his wife of 15 years and "traded up" by marrying a younger woman the exact same year. How about that Greg Behrendt scumbag? Yes, I'm jealous of that guy in a "I wish I could have made a fortune by pushing out a journalistic bowel movement" sort of way, penning the virtual cash-cow that was "He's Just Not That Into You" - a book that has to tell brain-dead chicks that a guy not returning your calls, sodomizing your best friend on your pull-out couch, and referring to you as his "sister" around other women suggests that he's sort of disinterested.
But the other day while I was switching channels, trying to see if I could find some educational programming or the garden variety Janeane Garofalo flick to jerk off to - I came across a show on VH1 called "The Pick-up Artist". This is a show where a pack of men who have been historically unlucky with women, compete to be a master "pick-up artist" under the fine tutelage of a guy named "Mystery" - a man that Elle Magazine billed as "the World's Greatest Pickup Artist". As I tried to figure out what self-respecting woman would even let a dude wearing a Dr. Seuss hat and painted fingernails enter any of her precious orifices - I watched with amazement as geeks that looked as if they were handpicked from central casting ate up every line of the most obvious dating advice outside of telling men to "avoid going dutch". Besides the utterly groundbreaking notion that having confidence, stimulating conversation, and looking half-way presentable is a great way to pick up women - I did some digging and found out that "Mystery" used to be a magician(explains the creepy Criss Angel vibe). Not only that, but I watched a few of his youtube videos and he kind of comes off like a closeted homosexual - it has less to do with his effeminate nature and more to do with the cast of characters he chooses to surround himself with.(I'm saying, with friends named "Matador", J-Dog, and Lovedrop - you know that someone is getting mercilessly cornholed and having their prostate treated like a pinata whenever these dudes hang out)
I remember meeting a douche-bag like this last year, a dude who unsuccessfully tried to get me and my boys to refer to him Optimus Prime or some shit - he bet me 300 dollars that he could take home any woman that I pointed out. This guy was a cornball, and not only did he have a complexion that would make Edward James Olmos cringe but he was also a Dane Cook fan for Christ sake - so I pointed out the finest woman in the joint and giggled to myself as I imagined him retelling some lame routine from his favorite comedian to her. But to my amazement he was doing rather well, she was laughing at all of his lame jokes and looked rather engaged - that's exactly why I went over there and proceeded to give him the beating of a lifetime. You can have all the smooth talk in the world but a woman isn't going to let you see her naked after you received a home-cooked beating where you squealed like a constipated pig and cried this guy over Britney Spears - after I threw a table on his ass I said, "Give me my 300 bucks motherfucker, I mean, Optimus Prime!!" Enough of my incessant rambling, here are a few sure fire techniques that I use to pick up women - granted, my genitalia is about to atrophy based on its inaction and actual tumbleweeds roll around in my bedroom, but its still sound advice God-dammit!!
"Make it Rain" in that motherfucker: Did you really expect to get some sane and rational advice from someone who gets his girlfriends off of Craigslist? I'm just saying, the few times that I've walked up to a bar while holding handfuls of cash and angrily said, "I'm holding 2 thousand dollars, what low-esteem having woman in this shit-hole wants to fuck like we're two drugged-up test bunnies?" - at the end of the night I found myself at least getting a rather indiscreet hand-job in the comfortable confines of my monster car. Sure the tactic is barbaric in nature, and you will hear women within earshot gasp and call you all sorts of nasty names - but come 2 AM when you find yourself bartering with a woman who wants breakfast in exchange for sex in a wooden area like we were a couple of bears an shit, lets just say its worth it. Remember that line from Sir Mixalot's "Posse on Broadway" when he says: "Kid Sensation dropped a 20 and didn't even miss it/
this skeezer from another crew she picked it up and kissed it" - well, carelessness with money of that magnitude attracts women to you as well. Sure, the wrong women who's medicine cabinets stays stocked with Valtrex - but women all the same.
Be Kanye West inside your own head: I know that I'm in the minority here, but I'm a Kobe Bryant fan - and one of the criticisms that I absolutely loathe is when I hear people say that he's "arrogant" as if such an argument is akin to a Perry Mason closing argument. I mean, take Kobe Bryant out of the equation for a minute - don't you want the star of your favorite team to be arrogant, a player thinking that he can sink every shot and drive past any defender seems like nothing but a plus to me. Having arrogance is a great tool to have when meeting women, sure, you don't want to let it spill out in your conversational vernacular - but feeling that you are the unadulterated shit not only helps the words flow out of your mouth effortlessly, but its also an outstanding defense mechanism when getting rejected. If some woman rejects your advances, you can walk away thinking comforting thoughts like: "I can't get with anyone who doesn't know who Large Professor is anyways!", "Thank god she dissed me, she couldn't find China on a map for Christs sake - the tenure of our relationship would feel like one perpetual tutoring session", and "Who told her that those shoes went with that skirt anyways? Bloody fucking savage!"
Make her the only game in town: Since I'm fully aware that men have the habit of thinking a woman is obligated to them whenever they buy her a drink - the few times that I have bought a woman a drink, it usually comes with a "I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart, I promise I won't stalk you - matter of fact, if you were on fire and I had to go to the bathroom something fierce I probably wouldn't piss on you" speech attached to it. I don't mind being the chubby guy, the hot head, the guy that gleefully times his pre-ejaculations with a stopwatch while saying "I just beat my own record!" - but the last thing I want to be is the "creepy guy", following some broad around a club while hearing her girlfriend say "Girl, here he comes again!" That being said, I do believe that your chances of picking up a woman increases if you happen to only pursue her that night - take it from me because I know, a guy who has gone on to publicly finger women after getting the number of someone I really wanted to get to know. Its not a good look.
Man, compliments really do work!: One of the biggest arguments that me and my ex-girlfriend had, besides the way we would bicker about me putting an ashtray on her back while she blew me - was her feeling, being a bartender and all, that black folks never tipped. At the time I saw her blatant honesty as being nothing but self-loathing of the Black Republican variety - I kept waiting for her to show up at some Lilly white political convention where they shamelessly used her one brown face as an example of the party's inclusion of African Americans. It got so bad that I did things like call her "Aunt Tomasina" during sex, and I would perform a minstrel-esque soft-shoe routine whenever she came into the house - but despite my taunts, and me calling her a "fucking race traitor" in front of her parents - she stuck to her beliefs that black folks didn't tip. Since a few years have passed I can't say that I've come around to her way of thinking, but every time I'm at a bar and lay down a serious tip - the bartender tends to be over ecstatic, belting out an exuberant "Thanks Mister!" like they were a kid in a 1930's era movie who was just given some money. I said all that because its my belief that women hardly get compliments, ones that don't make her want to go home and scrub her body raw with an S.O.S pad - I've noticed that the few times I've handed out even the fainest of praise recently, it has led to a few situations that will probably have my hypochondriac ass in the clinic pretty soon for some cautionary check-ups.