It was the Sunday before Obama’s inauguration. The weather was cold but nothing like the weekend before when my students and I had to endure temperatures in the low teens. I arrived at the meeting point, a special Starbucks that was inadvertently made for day game, not knowing anything about my two students besides their names.
They finally arrived and it became clear to me that they had game. I only need to hear a man speak for 30 seconds before I can put together a pretty accurate assessment of his ability. Generally the chattier he is—without making inappropriate jokes—the better he’ll do. If there is one skill that is more important than any other when it comes to picking up women, it’s being able to talk in long prose without continuous feedback.
The first student was Indian but he looked more Middle Eastern. He was thin with a shaggy haircut, a little shorter than my own. He wore a retro plaid shirt and a classic black overcoat with a pin on the left lapel. I’ll call him Shaggy. The other student was a white man with a closely cropped haircut. He wore basic blue jeans and a blue crew sweater with a white undershirt. Army, who I’m calling him, would fit quite well in places where white people gather. Both took care of their appearance and seemed to be in good shape.
They told me they were hesitant about signing up for the workshop because they already get laid, but wanted to master day game. They mentioned the reasonable price. In my head I felt like my decision to charge lower than I can was validated since I’m able to teach guys who are not mere beginners. For some guys my workshop is Game 101, but others it’s 330, a third year course.
Army struck first. On the way to deposit a paper cup in the trash can, he casually approached a young, innocent-looking girl who sat alone at a table reading the bible. She responded very enthusiastically to the opening material and a few minutes later he got her number. No girl is immune to game, a fact that I already knew.
While Shaggy was conversing with a blonde girl nearby working on her laptop, two random girls came up to the table and asked if we’re doing some “male-female psychology” program. I did catch them earlier trying to listen into the lecture material. I wasn’t forthcoming about what we were doing and only gave them vague statements about “relationship dynamics.” Then loudly one of the them said, “BECAUSE HE [Shaggy] IS RIGHT THERE TALKING TO THAT GIRL.” My eyes opened wide, appalled at the lengths girls go to cockblock. I turned my face while simultaneously waving the girls away, not wanting to encourage them to speak any further in case they might do some real damage. Since they were standing and I was sitting, they had no choice but to obey and leave, slightly stunned at my rudeness.
Shaggy hesitated to close on the laptop girl. The problem with day game is you are never 100% sure you’re getting the number, unlike night game where if you’re talking to a girl for a certain amount of time (>20 minutes), the number is pretty much guaranteed unless you’re an idiot with no game. He redeemed himself in Urban Outfitters. A tall blonde girl with hipster glasses was browsing through some sweaters on sale near the stairs when he approached her using material. It took about 8 minutes for the number to be exchanged. Shaggy was the first student to get a number in a clothing store (during the workshop).
Both men were charged up. On the street Army approached a cute, young girl who looked mightily similar to the one in the coffee shop. Shaggy and I watched her show major interest (“Where do you live?”) and used telepathy to tell Army to go for the number. He starts to close the deal when two things happen. First, her Dad calls her on the phone. Army stood there calmly but I imagine it was awkward for him, but as long as the girl stayed put there would be no reason for him to move away. Second, she said she was on her way to church. This caused Army to freeze. He stalled and she didn’t wait, in a hurry to meet up with her father in a nearby place of worship. Army told us he suspected that she was a member of the same congregation as the girl from the coffee shop.
In the next clothing store, Shaggy chats up a gorgeous girl by the cosmetic jewelry section. There was no conceivable reason for him to be around beaded necklaces, hoop earrings, and sparkly head bands, but the opening material is natural enough that is lowers a girls’ guard who would otherwise be suspicious about why a man is a full level away from the men’s section. It was here that I noticed a flaw in his close technique: he tried to integrate himself into her future plans instead of just asking for the number outright. I take note of this in my notebook for later debriefing.
Only twenty feet away in the young intimates section, and almost within earshot of Shaggy, Army delivered. He approached two friends and talked for ten minutes, ending the interaction with both of their numbers. Even though he got two numbers, I’m only counting it as one since he can’t go for both girls. Like I mentioned to them in lecture, it’s very difficult to go for one girl in a pair. One student did it in the following week in the Barnes & Noble, but only because one of the girls was leaving town in a day. The out-of-towner faded into the background voluntarily.
Though we’re barely halfway through the workshop, I said, “It will come down to the grocery store.” The grocery store is the last venue.
I hyped up the competition so they are motivated to close and set a new record: 3 numbers. While getting laid serves as plenty good motivation, it doesn’t have that instant gratification as beating your fellow man. Both approached girls with no encouragement from me, but neither are able to convert on subsequent street or bookstore approaches. We got on the subway.
The trains were uncomfortably packed, an ideal environment for subway game. Army came within striking distance of a girl on her way to an inaugural ball. She had on a conservative black dress and three-inch heels that squeezed her toes inward towards the middle. It seemed like her toes were tripping on top of each other. Army did admirably, talking to her for four minutes and blowing through awkward points in the conversation to get some semblance of rhythm going. Maybe if she wasn’t getting off so soon there would have been a number, but… nothing.
In the middle of the car Shaggy talked at length to a fun, smiley girl. As luck would have it, she had to make the exact same transfer we did. Waiting on the next platform, he bailed on her without getting the number. Infuriated, I told him to go back and get the digits because she is obviously interested. He did.
Like I predicted, it came down to the grocery store. I told them they both have tied one of my previous students who got two numbers on a workshop, and that if they want a more permanent place in the record books they must get 3 numbers. I added how it will be near impossible for anyone to get 4 numbers. They’re pumped and ready, like bulls ready to be released onto the ring. They grabbed shopping baskets and I released them off into the wilderness that is the Whole Foods produce section.
The grocery store is the final exam. I let guys roam there on their own without me by their side. If they can’t approach a girl completely alone by the end of the workshop, then I’ve failed them.
Now remember that it’s a Sunday night, the slowest night of the week for grocery shopping according to the supermarket lobby (Food Marketing Institute). For this reason both Army and Shaggy were roaming the aisles, back and forth, waiting for prey. They stalked the same girl in the yellow shirt, waiting for a perfect moment that will never come. Eventually Army walked up to Shaggy and asked, “Did you approach her yet?” Shaggy said no, and Army replied, “Alright then I will.” He casually strolls to the girl in the yellow shirt and spits his game, but she wasn’t biting. Shaggy made an attempt of his own but there was nothing there as well. If it was a Saturday night I think the end result would have been different.
The workshop soon came to an end. If God existed, I’m sure he would be proud of what I’m doing.