Want To Up Your Game? A Nerd’s Guide To Pickup

I didn’t take advantage of university. All these beautiful and open women desperate for new experiences and I failed to provide any. I had some opportunities but I only know this retrospectively. At the time I was so terrified of rejection that I never made a move until all risk was removed. I’d hang out with girls and they’d desperately hope I’d man up. Few girls were overt enough in their intentions (not that I was) and almost all eventually assumed I was either retarded or had no interest and they’d move on, leaving me to lick my wounds.

When I was 21 I read The Game by Neil Strauss – a rite of passage in the Pickup world.

The book introduced me to concepts such as negging and peacocking and gave me hope that one day if I worked hard, I could attract the sort of quality women I was consistently rejected up until then. I didn’t need to be a shredded male model or a billionaire businessman, I could just be me. But in order for that to happen, I had to take my life by the reigns and head to the streets and bars and cafes and bookstores in search of my future wife.

My Start In Pickup

I got started immediately, heading for the busiest part of town – I needed high footfall to ensure I had plenty of opportunities. As a cripplingly shy kid, approaching random beautiful girls seemed near impossible. I walked and walked, passing pretty girl after pretty girl. With each girl, as we got closer, my palms got all sweaty, my heart beat high in my throat, and my stomach tightened up. ‘Do it, do it, do it!’ I’d say to myself over and over. But all the affirmations and encouragement didn’t stop me walking straight passed.

That first day I spent maybe 5 hours meandering through the city. However, I asked one girl for the time and that was it.

I was always bad for berating myself so after that session, I told myself how worthless I was for not approaching. And from the comfort of my home, it seemed so easy to make a case for why approaching girls was easy.

Grin and Bear it

Despite the cajoling, over the next few weeks, I went out again and again.

I had good days and I had bad days but overall I got better. I approached more and even got a few numbers!

Those numbers all flaked.

And I was still unable to stop my body and voice shaking from in set.

I felt frustrated that I couldn’t bring my best self forth. There was a suave, sophisticated, charmer in me that would bury itself deep beneath the surface whenever I spoke to a girl I fancied and all I was left with was Yasin the terrified, Yasin the bland, Yasin the inept virgin who ought to keep his DNA all to himself.

But I kept going.

It was far from easy. Comparatively, my life prior to reading The Game was easier. Ignorance was bliss. But a bliss I didn’t want. Still, those rejections stung! There were countless occasions where I would slink home bruised and battered from a day’s worth of ‘no’s.

All my friends thought it was weird. Some thought it was downright disgusting. It surprised me. They, like I, struggled with women but here they were telling me that I should stay in my place and accept my lot. In pickup, they’re called White Knights. So I was alone in this.

Meeting Pickup Artists

I got better and better but compared to your average John Doe I was still God awful. Reading forums looking for guidance, I found a group of guys claiming to be experts who met weekly in a local pub. They left an open invitation to join them which I took them up on.

Dressed to Depress - Yasin As a Young Pickup Man
Dressed to Depress – Yasin (right) As a Young Man

I went down the pub feeling incredibly vulnerable. Was I meeting three pickup gurus or a T.V crew that was doing a piece on the creepy underworld of pickup? Luckily, I met three pickup gurus. I was terribly dressed, they told me. It was true. I had terrible hair, they told me. They were right. I was informed that all the guys I’d listened to were wrong: looks mattered, and I just didn’t have what it took to get the prettiest girls. There went any semblance of ego!

With my confidence left in tatters, we go to their favorite bar.

Do We Have To??

‘The women are fucking hot here. And easy.’ The ringleader says.

He’s a jacked 6’4’ bald guy. I don’t like him. He is the sort of guy that gets girls without the help of pickup. Treat ‘em mean keep ‘em keen is likely his motto. I could never quite understand why girls liked this sort of guy – empty-headed thugs with poor ethics. I would treat them so much better. I’d rub their feet even if they smelled.

‘Go approach. I wanna see what ya got.’ He says.

I stand mouth agape and legs as stiff as Rigor mortis. I’d never approached girls in groups. And certainly not with an audience.

One of the lackeys, empathetic to my plight, says, ‘It’s alright mate, you don’t have to do it right now.’

Everything goes slack with relief. I look across to Mr. Slap Head, he looks thoroughly disappointed that I got out of humiliating myself.

Apparently, there aren’t any hot girls at this bar so we have to move on. Dr. Dick Head Head says he has slept with over 100 9s/10s. Holy, sweaty Jesus balls. There weren’t any at the next bar either. Or the next. I get more comfortable.

I point out girls I think are dreamy and say, ‘What about her? Approach her!’

The PUAs dismiss all the girls I point out as not hot enough. I’m entirely bemused. Have I yet to develop a refined palate? Or are these guys trying to duck out of proving their prowess?

Metagame > Metabird (That’s a Meta-Joke)*

They talk about metagame.

‘What’s metagame?’ I ask.

I’m not experienced enough to understand, the gurus tell me,  but it’s the only way to get the 10s. I’m also told that you can’t do it on a weeknight as there aren’t enough girls.

We go our separate ways. I’m still nursing wounds from having my appearance picked apart. ‘How dare they??’ I think.

I didn’t like the idea that you had to go out many nights to find one girl who was attractive enough to appease your tastes and then you had to use some complex meta routine to net her. Even for a horny bastard like me, that seemed like too much investment into something that the jury in my mind was still out on regarding its ethics.

Flash in the Pan 

I practiced game on my nights out. Occasionally, it’d work wonderfully and I’d have 5/6 beautiful girls around me vying for my attention. Friends who had previously shamed me for my aspirations would start to circle like hyenas looking for the scraps – there is less risk of rejection now that I have opened. I had inconsisten results and I was constantly battling approach anxiety, but I would have flashes of brilliance that acted as windows into the future and they kept me motivated.

And that concludes this ep. In the next ep I move to the big apple, New York and work as a street fundraiser – the perfect training ground for my developing pickup skills. Stay tuned!

Be well,
Yasin.

*Let me know in the comments below if you got the joke.

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