The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists

MEN WEREN’T REALLY THE ENEMY— THEY WERE FELLOW VICTIMS SUFFERING FROM AN OUTMODED MASCULINE MYSTIQUE THAT MADE THEM FEEL UNNECESSARILY INADEQUATE WHEN THERE WERE

out of control. For a week, he’d been vacillating between periods of extreme anger and violence, and jags

were split and smashed off their hinges; walls were dented in the shape of fists, phones, and flowerpots; Herbal was hiding in a hotel room scared for his life; and Mystery was collapsed on the living room carpet crying. He’d been crying for two days straight. This wasn’t a normal kind of crying.

I want to go out. But I have no one to go out with and no clue where to go.” He paused to tell his nieces to shut up. “I’ll probably just get some sushi alone.” I’d assumed that the great Mystery would have girls lined up every night of the week and a wait-list of sargers eager to take him out clubbing. Instead, he was stagnating at home. His fathe

have something. Katya, a petite Russian blonde with a Smurfette voice and the energy of a Pomeranian puppy, was at the front door in ten minutes with a Xanax and a worried look on her face. “Do not come in,” I warned her. “He’ll probably kill you.” Not that she didn’t entirely deserve it, of course. Or so I thought at the time. I gave Mystery the p

All of these relationships apparently took place in sixth grade. Extramask shook his head sadly. It was hard to tell whether he was consciously being funny or not. The next arrival was a tanned, balding man in his forties who’d flown in from Australia just to attend the workshop. He had a ten-thousand-dollar Rolex, a charming accent, and one of the

“I can’t go on,” Mystery went on. “It’s futile.” With a rote gesture, she reached into a drawer, pulled out a small package of tissues, and handed it to him. As Mystery reached for the package, he looked up and met her eyes for the first time. He froze and stared at her silently. She was surprisingly cute for a clinic like this. A flicker of animat

I never became comfortable around women: They intimidated me. In four years of college, I did not sleep with a single woman on campus. After school I took a job at the New York Times as a cultural reporter, where I began to build confidence in myself and my opinions. Eventually, I gained access to a privileged world where no rules applied: I went o

Besides confidence and a smile, we learned, the other characteristics of an alpha male were being well-groomed, possessing a sense of humor, connecting with people, and being seen as the social center of a room. No one bothered to tell Mystery that those were actually six characteristics. As Mystery dissected the alpha male further, I realized some

Oh my God,” I said to her. “Did you see those two girls fighting outside?” “No,” she said. “What happened?” She was interested. She was talking to me. It was working. “Um, two girls were fighting over this little guy who was half their size. It was pretty brutal. He was just standing there laughing as the police came and arrested the girls.” She gi