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I was chatting up a cute chick when I overheard another pickup in progress right next to me. The guy was projecting his voice loudly so I couldn’t help but hear just about every word he said to the smiling girl who was listening intently to him. I glanced over when I had a moment to myself to observe his success or failure. (While watching other men crash and burn is a visceral pleasure, I also enjoy watching men succeed because, one, I can always learn something new, and, two, I am still amazed how often men in successful pickups utilize game principles even when they don’t know they’re doing that.)

The guy was good-looking and high energy. His body language and voice tone were confident. At one point, when he stepped away to get a beer, the girl’s friend leaned in and I heard her say “Wow, he’s cute.” From my vantage, at least until then, this pickup was his to lose.

Which he did. Back with beer in hand, they continued talking, or rather, he continued talking and punctuating his words with finger jabs into the air, while she listened. And listened. And listened. Agonizing minutes ticked by. The energy was suddenly one-sided with his wild, and panicky, abandon, for he must have noticed her demeanor changing from delight to impassive politeness to confused annoyance. The previous pickup momentum, torqued in large measure simply on the strength of his looks and initial pose of confidence, dissipated with surprising rapidity as his “game” crumbled around him in a heap of monkey dancing, gum flapping, desperate body posturing, and cloying oversmiling. He began leaning into her in a vain effort to compel her to commit to the waning conversation, but she was already one foot out the door as her eyes darted around searching for a friend, a lifeline, to pull her away from this once attractive man. His inner beta had betrayed him.

Finally, denouement. A friend touched her elbow and whispered something in her ear. The guy figured out from her body language she was leaving soon, so he suggested they exchange numbers. Or he might’ve suggested he give her his number, I couldn’t pick up what he said at that point very clearly. She took her phone out and he typed his number into it and gave it back to her. As she was leaving, she didn’t look back at him. (A good test whether a girl will flake on you for a future date is if she looks back at you briefly after you have gotten her number and she is leaving the premises with her friends. No lookback = flake.) But he wasn’t done yet. Still smiling like a tard getting tickled, he shouted at her departing footsteps: “Hey, you better memorize my number!”


It all went down in ten minutes. Let this be a lesson. Very good looks on a man without any game will buy him 30 seconds to ten minutes of an attractive girl’s attention, after which he will be unceremoniously (and disappointedly) discarded just like any regular run of the mill schlub who doesn’t understand the art of seduction. Men need to stop projecting their fascination with looks onto women; personality and alphaness are what electrify a woman’s pleasure center. Good looks can send initial sparks, (and sparks is all it is) but the allure wears quickly without compensatory game to buttress it.

I number closed my girl. I did not tell her I would memorize her number.


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