Beautiful Illusion (3 page)

“Yes! We’re going to have so much fun.” Kim slapped her hands together and squealed as she turned back for the door.

“But, I’m not forgetting about
Game of Thrones, *or*
my husband.”

“Jon Snow is not your fucking husband!” she yelled as she passed through the door.

“Yes he is!”

“He’s not even real!”

“Say that again, and you’re fired!”

“
A
lright
, I need a volunteer,” I said to the group of five guys who were sitting in front of me. They ranged from balding, to overweight, to generally just nerdy men. The only thing they all had in common were that they were all socially awkward and had no idea how to get a girl. We were all huddled around in my living room as I prepped them on how to pick up women.

“I’ll try,” a heavyset guy with a curly brown crop of hair and sweat stains on his t-shirt said.

“Alright.” I pointed to him and signaled for him to stand in a ‘come hither’ motion. “What’s your name again?”

“Jason.” The man rallied to his feet and moved beside me.

Standing on my other side me was Cobra, and Ziv was somewhere in another room laying out the events that we had planned for the night.

“I want you to pretend that Cobra is a hot chick at the bar. Give me your best show at approaching her… errr, him.”

Cobra threw me an annoyed glare.

“Kind of hard to imagine Cobra being a girl,” Jason snorted.

“Yeah, of course,” I said. Cobra was about as macho-looking as they come. “But use your imagination.”

Cobra held his hand out in front of him and made an impression that he was holding a fake margarita or some other girly drink, then pretended to flick his hair like a girl. It took all my willpower not to laugh.

Jason slid up in front of him anxiously and stuck his hands in his jean pockets. “Hey… um. What’s your name?”

Cobra grabbed his heart with his free hand and gave Jason a shocked and appalled looked. He would’ve made an ugly woman, that’s for sure.

“No, no, no,” I chided. “That was completely wrong. Haven’t you read any of the material we posted online?”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know.” He seemed so unconfident, so shy and timid. I had a lot of work ahead of me.

“Okay. Who can tell me what Jason did wrong?”

“He didn’t sound alpha when he approached her,” a skinny guy with red hair and glasses said.

“Well…” I nodded my head in partial agreement. “That’s somewhat correct. But you don’t really need to sound ‘alpha’ when you approach girls; you just need to sound confident. And you sure as hell don’t want to just ask a girl in the club her name as the first thing you say to her. That’s fighting an uphill battle. Instead, open with something interesting that will start a conversation, something non-threatening. You don’t want the girl thinking you’re trying to pick her up the moment you open your mouth.”

The guys all nodded in understanding.

“Also, never approach a girl from the front like that.” I made my way behind Cobra, slowly slid up beside him, then turned my head sideways to look at him from an angle. “What kind of drink is that? It looks delicious,” I said calmly.

“It’s a Sex on the Beach, and maybe you can show me what it’s made of a little later on, you big, handsome man you,” Cobra said in his best female voice, which was more comical than feminine.

I rolled my eyes. Great pickup artist, poor comedian. I scanned the five students. “Did you notice how less intimidating I was when I approached from the side? Did you notice how it didn’t appear that I was picking her up? As far as she knew, I was just interested in ordering whatever drink she was having, and boom,” I snapped my finger, “I initiated a non-threatening conversation with a hot babe.”

I looked over to Cobra…
Okay, maybe not so hot.

Ziv strutted into the room. “Everything is set for tonight. We’ve got a nice VIP table at McMillan.”

“Alright,” I said, smiling as I scanned over the guys. “You guys are going to have to bring your A-game at McMillan. It’s usually packed with some high-caliber babes.” I could see the anxiousness in all of their eyes. “You guys nervous?”

“Of course,” the red-headed nerd said. “I mean, you and Cobra… You guys are fucking alpha. You’re both tall, buff and blessed with good looks. You have a natural game that we don’t have.”

“Wait a minute,” I scolded. “That’s where you’re wrong.” I pointed my finger to each and every one of the guys then started pacing the floor of my living room as if I was Steve Jobs giving a speech about the next big Apple product. “That’s where you’re wrong...

“Yes, a lot of girls might find me physically attractive, and If rode on by looks alone, I could probably get pussy from a bunch of slutty, shallow girls out there. But while most girls may generally seem shallow on the surface, your job as a pickup artist is to pierce through that shallow shell of theirs and create an opportunity for them to get to know you for who you really are.

“The truth is,” I continued, “Most girls think they’re smarter than us. They think they’re incredibly smart and know exactly what they want. That’s why they’ll reject you before they’ve ever had the chance to know you. But in reality, they’re bat-shit-crazy and have no fucking idea what they want. A guy who can put a smile on a woman’s face and show her a good time will win out over a big lug with half a brain 90% of instances.”

“But if you put any of us against you or Cobra, we’d lose out 100% of the time,” Jason chimed in.

I sighed. “Of course you would… right now. But that’s because we’re masters of the game already. Not only that, but we’ve worked on our bodies, worked on ourselves as men.” I paused my walk and gave them all cold, hard glances. “Don’t compare yourself with others. Just always strive to improve yourself. And when this class is over, your training doesn’t end here. I’m giving you the tools to pick up women, but when you go home, you also need to get your bodies in shape, eat healthy, be fashionable.”

Ziv pulled an iPad out of nowhere and held it up for everyone to see. There was a picture of him from 6 months prior: wispy hair, pleated khakis and an ugly green polo. He was standing with terrible posture in the photo—took me weeks to help him break out of that.

“I was just like you guys 6 months ago. I went more than 5 years without the touch of a woman, without even kissing a girl.” He waved his hands over his now finely ironed dress shirt and denim washed jeans. “I don’t really look quite like Cobra or Enigma now, but I’ve made a drastic improvement. And girls? I can get 8s, 9s, and 10s, consistently. Because now they actually give me a chance.”

“Exactly,” I said. “It’s all about getting yourself in the door and navigating through the obstacles that are set in your way. Once the you can dodge those obstacles efficiently, you have a chance to show who you really are.”

We spent the next several hours going over pickup lines, routines, approaches, body posture and ways to entertain the girls. Again and again we rehearsed, until the guys had demonstrated enough game that I thought that they were ready for a real life environment with real girls.

After the training, I took the men to the mall to update their outfits. While Cobra and I were known to wear designer everything—because we could—I wanted to make it very clear to the guys that it wasn’t only the price tag associated with the clothes, but their general fashion sense that mattered. For the guys that needed updates to their hair, we stopped a local barber to get some styling done.

By the time the night rolled around, all five of the men looked a hundred times better, and I was confident that they could all at least get a girl’s number if they followed my instruction.

* * *

W
e all rolled
to the club in a van, and I brought a set of our spy gear, so that I could coach the men as they picked up. The plan was to start the night at our VIP table, and once the guys were nice and relaxed, I’d move back into the Van, while one-by-one each of them would show me what they’ve learned.

McMillan was on fire when we walked in. Hot girls were everywhere, music was blasting, and I could see the eyes of the guys light up when they saw the amount of ass and tits that were on display. I imagine that for some of them it was their first time in a club in a long time, maybe even their first time in a club ever. But even though they looked like kids in a candy store, I could sense the anxiousness crawling over their skin.

Cobra, Ziv, and I led the pack to our table, making eye contact with everyone we passed, throwing smiles in every direction and trying to warm the club up to our ensemble. It had been a while since I had been to the McMillan and I was hopeful that none of the girls I had previously picked up at the club made it in that night to make things harder on me.

We ordered a bottle of Grey Goose, and soon our little VIP corner was banging. The guys were loosening up, throwing each other high-fives and having a good old time. In fact, it even seemed like they had forgotten why we went there for the night and were just perfectly content shooting the shit with the boys.

“Alright, are you guys ready?” I asked.

The newbies tensed up when I reminded them of their mission, but they all nodded that they were good to go.

First, I handed the hidden camera and mic to a middle-aged man in his 40s. He was the typical nice guy that women often gave the short end of the stick. Smart, hardworking and just wanted to find a good girl to settle down with. But he wasn’t particularly attractive and had a pretty serious bald spot forming on his head. After our day at the mall, we shaved off all his hair to a nice close buzz and dressed him in a sporty, fitted suit that gave him a sophisticated but stylish appearance. There was also a small earpiece that I had him fit in his ear, so that I could give them direction if I saw he was doing something wrong.

Cobra and I headed out of the club and into the van while Ziv sat back to look over the guys at the table. Inside of the van was a small television, a mic and speakers, so we could see and hear everything that whoever was wearing the spy device could.

“Alright William,” I said once we confirmed that all the equipment was working. “Show us what you’ve got.”

On the tiny, wireless television setup in the Van, I could see my middle-aged student stand up from the VIP table, still holding his glass of Grey Goose in his hands as he began to walk around the room. He paced slowly around the various tables that were set up in the club, but he didn’t make his move.

“Don’t wait too long. You’ll look weird if you’re just walking around the club by yourself without doing anything,” I said into the mic.

He paced some more until he was faced by a table with one girl and one guy then took a step forward before the guy looked back at him, and he quickly changed directions.

“C’mon William. Don’t be afraid just because there’s another guy there. For all you know, those two just met tonight. It could be her brother.”

Immediately after rolling on his heels, he set of in the direction of another table, one that had only a single girl sitting there—perhaps a 5 on the Richter scale—and she was sipping on a drink and looking shy and uncomfortable.

“Don’t go for the easy target, William. That’s not how you learn to—“

“Hey, how are you doing?” he said.

Too fucking late.

“Fuck!” I cursed out loud, and I wanted to punch the screen. After all those hours of trying to teach him the best way to approach hot girls, he went for the one average girl who was sitting alone, opened with the dumbest line ever, and came up to her from the front in a confrontational manner.

“Um, I’m alright,” the girl said. She leaned back and looked at William like she didn’t know why he was there.

“You know what?” I said as I turned to Cobra. “He didn’t listen to me, so I’m just going to let it blow up in his face.”

“Gotta learn the hard way,” Cobra acknowledged.

“So ummm… Can I buy you a drink?” William asked.

The girl’s brow furrowed and she gazed at him like he was crazy. “I’ve already got a drink,” she said as she raised up her cup, filled nearly to the top with purple liquid.

“Oh!” William giggled. He
fucking giggled.
“So what do you think about kissing in public?”

I dropped the TV and stood up, halfway hunched in the van and ready to jump out the back door. “I’m done!” I barked as I waved my arms out frantically. “He’s throwing out a fucking opener after he’s already annoyed the girl.” My blood was boiling.

“Calm down Enigma. He’s a newbie… Let him fall on his face a few times. He’ll learn to listen.”

I let out a couple huffs then took a deep breath before turning back to the TV. Thank god Cobra had a longer fuse than me.

“I’m sorry. I’m waiting for a friend,” the girl in the club said. She looked out over the crowd like she wanted to run way

Almost like magic, a young, short guy with the build of a bulldog came up to the girl.

“Hey,” he said as he slid an arm around the girl. “Who’s this?”

“I don’t know…”

The bulldog turned to William, gave him a sinister smirk and then flicked his hand out toward him as if he were waving off a fly. William tucked his tail and scuttled back to the VIP.

“I fucking told him,” I said as I shook my head. I pulled the mic to my mouth. “William, you’re a fucking idiot. Hand the gear off to someone else who wants to pay attention to what I teach them.”

The night continued on with the other four guys trying their hand at picking up girls. Two of the others failed miserably, nearly as bad as William, but two of them managed to get numbers. A little progress, but they still had much to learn. That’s why my program was designed to last for a month.