A Thousand Tiny Failures : Memoirs of a Pickup Artist (21 page)

New Year, New Woman (Luv?)

“Five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Years!!” we all screamed.

Streamers flew, balloons bounced, champagne popped. I grabbed at the nearest pretty girl, but she turned away so I grabbed for another. A little plump for my tastes, but good enough for a kiss. “Happy 2010 baby!” I said and put a wet smacker on her lips. I went back to my spot on the couch to work on my beer and fish for girls. The chubby one was staring at me. I shouldn’t have kissed her, I thought.

The kid sitting beside me said, “Hey bro. I’ve heard you teach pickup, is that true?”

Why yes, yes it is. He knows us. Don’t disappoint him.

“I used to. I haven’t done that in a while,” I said, pretending aloofness but enjoying the attention. But it was true. I hadn’t found a client in four months. I hadn’t tried. I was no pickup artist. I was brutally destroyed by ancient ghosts of rejection past.

“That’s awesome! Can I ask, how did you get into it?”

A girl threw up in the corner. More streamers.

“Well…I guess I was really lonely, and horny.”

“Now you aren’t?”

Two boys were making out. People were pretending not to care.

“Always, it’s a sickness.”

“So why don’t you coach anymore? That sounds like a pretty awesome job. I wish I had that job.”

“You could have it.”

“Nah man, I suck with girls.”

“Takes practice.”

I was scared. Scared of failure, scared of success, scared of what people would think of me. Years spent trying to mask these fears, and they were still there, buried. Maybe we never overcome our emotions; we just learn to ignore them.

“You see,” I continued, “being a dating coach is like being a rock star, except instead of hot groupies you get awkward men. And you might want to settle down right? But you’re always on the road, and you’re always meeting new people, and what girl wants to be with that guy? Plus, most of contemporary society thinks you’re a creepy a douche-bag who is obsessed with one night stands and multiple sex partners. You’re like a walking std.”

The kid looked down at his hands, then back at me. “I
dunno
man, it sounds pretty cool to me. I wish I had that job. I work at
Walmart
.”

“That’s not so bad,” I lied.

"It sucks hard.”

“Ok.”

“Have you been with a lot of girls?”

A cat jumped onto my lap and sharpened its claws on my crotch.

“I’ve been with enough that if I’m never with another I would be ok with that.”

“So… what do you do for work now?” he asked.

The cat laid down for a nap, purring softly.

“I’m unemployed since last month. But I usually work in restaurants.”

“You’re a server?”

“No, a bus boy.”

“Yeah right,” he chuckled.

“No, for real,” I said.

The girl was snoring in her vomit. Some guy was drawing on her back with a magic marker.

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” he said.

“No worries. Whatever.”

“You should coach again.”

“
Ehhh
, I don’t know.”

He had a right to laugh. Preferring to bus tables over coaching was absurd, but I was done with pickup. I was tired of hitting on girls that didn’t care; going out night after night to these lame fucking clubs surrounded by douche-bags and teenage pill junkies. I was sick of the flakes and the emotional destruction of my addiction to validation. I’m awesome, I have game, I’m handsome and smart. Why is it so freaking hard to find a hot, intelligent girlfriend? And after three years of work? This was supposed to be fun. Supposed to be easy. It was a mystery.

Yeah, you suck.

And then I saw her, at ten minutes past
midnight
, like a long legged angel of ancient song, dancing amongst the streamers and celebratory tinsel. “My god, those legs!” I muttered. I’d seen her earlier in the evening. She’d already been kissing another guy, already broken my heart, but he wasn’t around right now. Fuck him.

“So, how do you approach a girl? What do you say?” he asked.

“Well, lately I just say, “Hey, come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Watch,” I said.

Victoria
said she hadn’t seen me until I yelled, “Hey, come here!” at her. But when I did, she looked at me, smiled suspiciously, and walked over. She had straight, shoulder length brown hair, a wide mouth and full lips. She wasn’t tall, but lithe, and very beautiful. Those legs were really something. She was exactly what I wanted. I reached up, took her hand and pulled her gently onto the couch. She sat submissively.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“
Victoria
. What yours?”

“I’m Sebastian. Hey, get your phone out. I want to recite my new year’s resolutions to you.”

“Ok,” she said, pulling out her phone and filming me.

“I vow, this year, I won’t be a capitalist pig, and I’ll always be positive, always. And I’ll make fifty thousand dollars.”

“Those are good resolutions!”

“Thank you. I’m a genius. Touch the genius, c’mon, touch me.”

“Oh, you’re
soooo
smart. Oh my god, I’m touching you.”

“Yeah…”

I dragged
Victoria
around the house and tried to make out with her, but she would just laugh and push me off. She’d already kissed one boy that night, and didn’t want to be slutty. A good girl—or at least she pretended to be. I took her to a bedroom under the guise of showing her something, “really important,” and tried again. She wouldn’t have it. I pulled her to a dry-erase board and we drew stupid pictures of Unicorns. Her friends waited patiently on a couch for her. “They hooked up with some guys in the back of a truck,” she whispered. “They want to go home, but they’re going to stay for ten more minutes.”

Excellent. She’s yours master Jedi.

I took her outside to find a taxi, but they were all full and the phone lines were busy.
Victoria
just stood there, amused. Time was running out. I thought about pulling her onto someone’s front lawn, until a group of laughing partiers stumbled out of the house, distracting us.

“How old are you?” she asked.

Here we go again.

“I’m thirty-one. You?”

“Thirty one?” She paused to consider this. “Wow. You’re old. I’m nineteen.”

“Story of my life.”

She blinked a few times.

“What? What does that mean?”

“You’re a little girl.”

“I am not! But you’re too old for me, I think.”

The crickets were in full song. Some were winning, some losing. But no matter what, they still had their song.

“I’m fine with that,” I said. “Your loss lady.”

I was upset, but I masked it. Most women didn’t want me unless I did a magical pickup tap-dance. I had to be at my best, always. And if I didn’t fuck them the night we met, the odds of meeting up again were one in a thousand. So I’d formed a barrier between my emotions and actions. I pretended not to care. I was willing to walk away, and if she wanted to see me, she could chase.

“Anyway, “I said. “I gotta go. Happy New Years. Drive safe.”

“Oh. Umm, well, ok. Bye.”

She seemed disappointed…good.

Shut up you.

And then I walked.

It’s always the next girl. If one gives you too much shit, move on. There’s always another beautiful, smart, charming, intelligent girl that wants a guy like me. I just needed to find her, somewhere in the
multiverse
of hysteria. So I ditched
Victoria
, left her standing there, and walked around the block looking for a taxi. I found none so I returned to the house. Maybe there would be another girl for me. I had an aching boner. I’d need to spank it tonight.

I found the party host trying to block a drunk kid from getting inside. “But
maaannn
!” The drunk complained. “I need a place to
sleeeeeep
!”

“You can’t come in, we don’t know you,” the host said.

“But I live in the
West End
!”

“No man, I’m sorry.”

The kid was pushing the host, and the host didn’t seem able to handle himself. I knew this guy, the host. He was into pickup but never went out, never approached girls, and never got laid. So of course he couldn’t handle this situation.

I stepped in. “Hey!” I said. “He said you can’t come in. Go home.”

“But I need to stay here!” he whined, and tried to push past me.

“No.”

He tried to push past me again, so I grabbed him by the front of his jacket and drove him backwards across the lawn, about thirty steps, put my leg behind his ankles, and pushed his chest. The kid fell to the ground. He looked up at me sadly.

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble man,” he said.

“Me neither. Go before I give you some.”

I wanted to give him trouble. I wanted to take out my frustrations on this little dude. I took a step forward and then stopped and sighed heavily.

“Go home bro. You’ll be fine,” I said.

The kid stumbled drunkenly away.

I turned back to the host.

“Wow, that was awesome. Thanks Sebastian.”

I frowned. “You can’t reason with people when they’re like that. Even if you aren’t a tough guy, they don’t know that. Just step up and dominate them. They’ll back off.”

“Yeah, I know, he was just, you know. Well, thanks.”

“No worries,” I said.

Becoming a more dominant man had paid off. Even though I wasn’t able to fight, I could pretend. I was a far cry from the kid with boobies that got picked on in elementary school. I went inside the house. It was empty. I went to the bedroom where I left my jacket and opened the door. The guy that had been kissing
Victoria
was standing in the middle of the room in his underwear, with two giggling girls on his bed.

“Dude! Shut the door.”

“I need my jacket.”

“Fuck, here, take it, go, go.”

“Man, you’re spoiled, I’m coming in!” I said. But he pushed me out and slammed the door. I considered kicking it in and pulling out my dick. Instead I walked outside into the morning air and started my long trek home. It was a nice night and I enjoyed the walk. I thought about
Victoria
and how I might have got her if I didn’t give up so easily, and then I let it go. It was a new year. There would be more.

There always are.

Victoria
(Cherry-
poppin
)

A few days later I checked my Facebook; there was a friend request from
Victoria
.

Fuck yeah, rock star.

We exchanged a few lines of banter and I invited her over to my apartment. I analyzed her pictures. She wasn’t just cute, she was a drop dead knockout, and smart too. I smoked a joint and whacked it to my favorite one. Hey, it’s what guys do.

She must have asked around about me. A woman will only contact you if she’s interested, and most women will never contact you unless their friends give a thumbs up. I supposed she heard all about my antics and womanizing ways, which probably helped.

I did a mach five speed clean over my apartment. Scrubbed the dishes, washed the laundry, dusted the
tv
—then I rushed to the liquor store and bought two bottles of wine and some beer. Booze is critical. I wanted to keep her a little drunk so she wouldn’t wise up and change her mind. She arrived at
seven p.m.
in a tight black skirt that highlighted her fantastic nineteen year old legs. I told her she reminded me of a baby cow, all covered in
goo
, because they were so long. We sat and drank a little and laughed a lot. I put my arm around her and she cuddled up to me. She got all my stupid jokes and had a few of her own. We played some Little Big Planet on my PlayStation and she screamed every time she died. I leaned in to kiss her and this time she gave in, easily. Sweet bliss. She was perfect for me. Not only young and beautiful, but mature, classy, funny and very, very fond of me.

She stayed over that night, but when I went for her pussy, she brushed my hand away. “
Ummm
,” she said. Her cheeks were red.

“What is it?”

“I’m sort of a virgin.”

A dog barked outside.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“
Uhuh
.”

The dog stopped barking. Then it gave one tiny woof and was silent.

“That’s ok. Are you ready?” I asked.

“Not today, but soon. I want to.”

“With me?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. Ok. Deal. You know, it’s gonna hurt.”

She laughed. “No shit.”

I’ve never been a virgin hunter. That shit doesn’t turn me on, but I’ll admit it’s a great trip for the ego to know that you were her first. I spent so many years hunting sluts so I could end up in monogamy with a virgin. How ironic. She may forget the others, but my imprint will remain eternal, the first.

I was done with hunting. I was sick of bars and clubs and constant emotional apocalypses. I never told her how badly I wanted her to be my girl. She was really into hip hop and
gangsterism
fascinated her…so I played aloof and gangster, which worked great. On our fifth date, with sex imminent, she stood up in front of me, straightened herself, took a deep breath and said, “Are you seeing other girls? Because if you are, I’ll leave. I’ll walk out, right now. I don’t want that sort of relationship.”

I looked at her tiny figure, her bright eyes and admired her courage. I laughed a little and said, “I’m not seeing anyone else.” I don’t think she believed me, but it was enough.

“Really?” she asked shyly.

“No. Nobody else.”

“I thought you might be seeing other girls.”

“I’m not.”

“Everyone says you’re a great guy.”

“I am.”

She cuddled up with me and I took her to my bed.
Victoria
will be my girl, I thought. I’m ready for that now. It’s her choice and that’s how it is. I slept with dozens of great women, had my heart crushed and ego destroyed, lived through an adventure and transformed my personality. I needed a rest. I wasn’t cut out for all this player crap.

“Here, come here. I want to spoon,” I said. “We deserve a good spoon.”

“We sure do,” she agreed.

I laid her in the bed and we kissed. I took off her clothes and then mine. I mounted her and gently pushed in, just a little. She was trembling.

“Fuck!
Owwwww
!” she howled.

“Are you ok?”

“It fucking hurts.”

“It’s ok, let’s try another angle. Here.”

I covered my dick with lube and pushed in again, slowly.

“
Ahhhhh
!
Ow
ow
ow
ow
ow
…”

I laughed.

“Don’t laugh Sebastian! It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, but it sort of is. Relax baby.”

“Try again,” she sighed.