A Thousand Tiny Failures : Memoirs of a Pickup Artist (23 page)

As I left the building I looked back over my shoulder and whispered, “
Biatch
!” In two weeks I would be teaching men how to improve their lives, and being paid rather handsomely for that service. Fuck that place. I’m awesome.

Sometimes it takes a few tries to get something right.

I love me.

Montreal
, La
Deuxième
Partie
(World War Me)

When I told
Victoria
I was leaving for a month, she supported me. She cried the day I left, because she would miss me. We’d been together for over a year. It was adorable and a little bit sad, but I didn’t have much to be sad about—I was too busy being nervous. I’d managed to drum up six students for the month, and they were paying me money to teach them how to get with pretty girls. I was supposed to take them to clubs and bars and lead by example. I was excited but stressed out, and I took about four nervous shits before getting on the plane, and then another two during the flight. I drank about thirty dollars worth of alcohol to calm myself on the turbulent flight.

On my first boot camp I was so nervous that I bought a flask of vodka, and took shots on bathroom breaks. I had to teach these guys how to pick up girls in the day time, something I’d only done a few times myself. All my students thought I was this big player, but in reality, I was just a normal guy that learned how to work hard to achieve a goal. I wasn’t a pimp.

At first I tried to hide this, but even now, I make it clear to my students I am not a master pickup artist
fucktard
. I’m human, and I’m fallible. Once I started being real about what I did, my job became easier. If you get into this stuff, at some point you need to let go of the concept that you will ever be magically attractive to the opposite sex. Just do the best to improve who you are and accept yourself.

On one of the boot camps I made out with a pretty girl. The students were impressed. I’d just cheated on my girlfriend, but I didn’t feel bad about it, not at all. I justified it as a part of my job. It wasn’t like I was getting
bj's
in the toilet.
Victoria
was a real sweetheart but she was also very conservative. I wanted to explore my sexuality, and try new things like threesomes, and ass-fucking. I wanted her to come out and pick up girls with me, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t like that…yet. Maybe in the future, after she was destroyed by seven or eight players she might be into it. I started to consciously think about letting her go.

On the last day of my final boot camp I was walking to the bank with five thousand dollars, made in three weekends, and all of my students were ecstatic. I deposited my money and on the trip home I felt a surge of pride, relief, and joy. I was overcome with emotion. I sat down on the sidewalk and started crying. The sun warmed the tears and then I was laughing. I fucking did it, I fucking did it, fuck you all. I went to the
deppanneur
, bought a tall cold beer and lay down in the park. I was going to be ok. And I was never going to be a wage slave, ever again. You can bus your own tables. I’ll do this instead.

After thirty days in
Montreal
, I returned to
Vancouver
, to face my bullshit.

I lay down beside
Victoria
and kissed her, gently at first, then a bit harder. She kissed me back but kept her hands to herself. She wasn’t putting in any effort. I took her clothes off and admired her beautiful, young body, her long legs, her full mouth. When I tried to enter her, she squirmed away from me, nervously. She was uncommonly anxious. I checked below—it was totally dry—Mars pussy.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, looking away from me.

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“I do,” I said, solemnly. “You’re not attracted to me anymore.”

She turned and looked me in the eyes.

“Well?” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.”

“What do we do?”

I laid there beside her for a minute, saying nothing, then I looked at her. “We break up.”

I helped her grab her things, and walked her to the door. I couldn’t help it, tears started running down my face. It sucked ass. Why did this happen? What the hell was I doing? Instead of manning up, I’d been acting like a beta pussy for months. She’d lost attraction for me and it was my doing. I was pathetic. Whatever lesson I was supposed to learn, I still hadn’t figured it out.

Lame dude. Lame.

I’d been with her for eighteen months; my longest relationship in nine years. I hugged and kissed her for the last time and then she drove away.

Just like that, she was gone.

I did twenty pushups, cried again, got drunk and played video games, then threw up in the toilet and fell asleep. I repeated the process for about three days.

I was sad about losing her, but at the same time…excited. I’d learned a lot by being in a longer relationship. I started going to parties again. I focused on my business and found more clients. I had a slow couple of months, so again, to make some extra money, I found yet another bussing job. It didn’t last long. During a coaching session I hit on the chef’s best-friend’s girlfriend. The next day at the restaurant, in the kitchen, from behind the counter, he confronted me over it. “My buddy is coming down here to kick your ass!”

“Then your buddy…is an idiot.”

“What did you call him?”

I was done taking shit. I had enough money to live off for six months.

I felt that warm, familiar glow, deep inside me—the one that loves the brave unknown, the Unicorn. It had its horn up Hitler’s ass. I undid my apron and placed it on the counter.

“I quit,” I said. “Fuck this place.”

The kitchen staff laughed in shock and stared at me.

I walked out of the kitchen, through the restaurant and past the office. I leaned in and said to the manager, “Sorry man. I have to go. Mail me my last check.”

“That’s it? You’re done?” He said, confused.

“Yeah, I’m done.”

“What are you gonna do?”

I looked at his laptop, it was a pretty girls Facebook page.

“I’m gonna do what I do.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m a writer.”

“Hah. Ok man, you should stay. You’re our best busboy.”

“There will be others.”

“Yeah, there will. Damn. Good luck.”

“See you around.”

“Ok Sebastian.”

I went outside and looked around at the people on the street, coming from work, from shopping, texting and blabbing on their cell phones. I was free to start again, with more experience, drive and wisdom. I thought about Esther, Eric, Mark, Olivia,
Jeff
,
Victoria
and all the women and friends I’d met. All of these shit-jobs and adventures. Yeah, I did something, and it worked. Now what?

A pretty redhead walked by slowly, as if she had nowhere to be. She was a few feet ahead of me. Her butt-cheeks bounced like smiling baby cheeks. I followed her past a travel agency. On the sign were lists of cheap flights all around the
worId
:
Montreal
,
Bangkok
,
Berlin
,
Rio
,
New York
. We passed two dogs fucking in a park. A young girl, about sixteen, was eating an ice cream cone and crying while her boyfriend comforted her on a park bench. The redhead stopped to look into a store window at a mannequin wearing a long blue dress.

Go for it man.

I walked up to the girl and tapped her shoulder. She turned around.

“Hi. My name’s Sebastian. I just thought you looked… nice.”

She stared at me oddly, like she might blow her rape whistle. Then slowly, she eased up, her lips parted into a warm smile, she fixed her hair.

“Hi Sebastian. I’m Jenny.”

The Four Thousand
Islands
,
Laos
, 2013 (Hardship)

The river was calm as I swam, pushing our inner-tube into the great
Mekong
river. I watched
Sasha’s
cute, white, Ukrainian bum, and made a mental toast to my inner Unicorn. 

“How long have you been
travelling
?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder.

I quit kicking at the water and looked at her. “Well, I started in
Bangkok
three months ago. I’ve been to
Cambodia
as well. Hey, watch where we’re going. You’re the Captain, remember?”

She laughed. “Yes, I am the Captain. Three months! What do you do for work? That is an expensive trip.”

I thought for a second.

“It took me four years to figure out how to get here. I’m a life coach.”

“Oh? That’s so cool!”

“Yeah, I’m pretty awesome.”

“You’re pretty young to be a life coach.”

“Yeah. I’m thirty-four.”

“Oh, you’re old!”

She splashed me in the face, and I shook the inner-tube, threatening to flip her into the river.

“No, I’m a bad swimmer!” She squealed.

“The crocodiles will eat you.”

“There are crocodiles?”

“I don’t know… maybe?”

I lifted myself onto the inner-tube. She turned over and I pulled her under my arm. We lay there, cuddling and absorbing the tropical sun. On one side of the distant shore was a herd of water buffalos, and near them several small, dark Laotian children playing near the shore. On the other side, where we came from, were rows of restaurants and bungalows.

“I love
Laos
,” she said, adjusting her bikini. “It’s so beautiful here.”

“Are you
travelling
alone?” I asked.

“Yes. I am a translator. I work in
China
.”

“Cool. How many languages do you speak?”

“Four.”

“Smart girl,” I said, closing my eyes and enjoying the heat. “What else do you do?”

“I play bass guitar, but not very well. I love live music. Do you play?”

The water was moving a little bit faster.

“I play guitar, but I’m not in a band anymore. I’m a writer now. I’m working on my first novel. It’s almost done.”

She smiled. “That’s so awesome. Are you going to write about me?”

I squeezed her arm. “That depends on if I still know you tomorrow.”

We floated in silence for awhile. I looked at her little nose, and her full mouth, her curly auburn hair. She had a cute little gap in her teeth. I leaned in slowly to kiss her, and she accepted it. We both laughed and went back to our meditations.

The inner tube was moving a lot faster.

“Hey,” I said. Looking to the shore. “Maybe we should push back to the bungalows.”

She looked towards the shore. “Ok,” she said.

I slid into the water and started swimming, but my efforts were futile. We continued heading downstream.

“You’re going to have to help me,” I told her.

She sat up. “Yes, but I’m not a very good swimmer.”

“Get in the water. We have to do this now.”

“Ok.”

She fell into the water with a splash, and came up spitting water and laughing.

“Don’t drown on me,” I said. “Now swim.”

We tried to push the inner-tube, but the current was too strong. We moved sideways, but not forwards. I remember the locals telling me there was a waterfall about one kilometer down the river. I looked to the sun and saw it would be setting in about thirty minutes. Fuck. I was having too much fun with this girl. I forgot—
Asia
can kill you. We could drown, and nobody would know until they found our bodies, crushed and mangled, on the rocks. Monkeys would defecate on us, and eagles would peck out our eyes. Not a bad way to go.

There was a small cluster of mini islands, barely big enough to stand on, which would be impossible anyway because they were covered in thick bamboo. I felt a surge of adrenaline. A feeling I was getting used to in
Laos
.

“
Sasha
. See those islands? We’re going to have to swim for them, as hard as you can. You can’t stop swimming. You have to swim as hard as you’ve ever swam! I’m pushing the inner tube. You follow me, ok?”

“Yes,” she said—her eyes wide.

I shoved the inner-tube as far as I could towards the clusters. “Swim!” I yelled, and propelled myself forward with all my strength. The current was very strong. It was about twenty meters to the island and when I reached it, I grabbed onto a bamboo cluster and looked back for
Sasha
. She was just out of my reach, but almost there. I reached out to her, and with a final stretch, she grabbed my hand. I pulled her up and she latched onto the bamboo. She was out of breath.

“Good job! We’re alive!” I said.

She coughed and rubbed the water from her eyes. She smiled at me.

The sun was dipping below the horizon and the shore was two hundred meters away. I started crawling along the edge of the island and felt a piercing pain on my left knee. I groped along, underneath the surface. There were rocks almost as high as the surface, all sharp. I wondered how far they would extend towards the shore.

Up the river I spotted a Laotian fisherman in a long-tail boat. I stood on the sharp rocks, waved at the fisherman and yelled, “So
saday
!”

The fisherman waved back, started his motor and drove away.

“What the fuck?”

“What an asshole,” she agreed.

I got back into the water with
Sasha
. “The sun will be down soon. We have to make it to the shore before that. Are you ok?”

She smiled at me with her cute little gap. I knew she was scared because I was. But isn’t that what makes us feel alive? Fear? The uncertain? Conquering hardship? I leaned closer and kissed her, feeling her ass, her breasts against my chest.

“Ready?” I asked. “Let’s go.”

We began crawling towards the shore, one inch at a time, over the knife-sharp rocks, with nightfall approaching…

And I smiled too.

The End