I am far from attractive. My nose is too large for my face and, while not hooked, has a bump in the ridge. Though I am not bald, to say that my hair is thinning would be an understatement. There are just wispy Rogaine-enhanced growths covering the top of my head like tumbleweeds. In my opinion, my eyes are small and beady, though they do have a

re-emerged in knee-high black leather boots, lay down on the bed, and took another Dustbuster snort from a burgundy vial of coke. Then she lifted the vial over her chest and tapped a small pile of powder onto the crest of her left breast. I’m not a fan of drugs. Part of being a PUA is learning to control your own state, so you don’t need alcohol or

It was never my intention to change my personality or walk through the world under an assumed identity. In fact, I was happy with myself and my life. That is, until an innocent phone call (it always starts with an innocent phone call) led me on a journey into one of the oddest and most exciting underground communities that, in more than a dozen

particular restaurant, there are four waitresses who have come home with me, three less attractive waitresses who want to come home with me, and several more who are works-in-progress (including Stephanie). And you can bet they all know about each other. But, again, that is very good.

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.

“If … if I wasn’t gay, you’d be so mine.” A huge smile spread across her face. “I like your hat,” she screeched, grabbing the brim. I guess peacocking did work. “Hey, now,” I told her, repeating a line I had heard Mystery use earlier. “Hands off the merchandise.”

It was a red-letter day for the seduction community. Tonight on Elimidate, Grimble would be paired with three other eligible bachelors to compete for the favor of a lingerie model named Alison. Our entire lifestyle was at stake. If he won, it would prove that the community really did have a social edge over the jocks and studs we’d felt inferior to

I’d written about them—they actually agreed. I was still in charge. Even more surprising, I didn’t want to leave the subculture. I was a mentor now to these kids, and I had a role to fill. I had friendships to maintain. Though I’d more than attained my goal as a pickup artist, along the way I had accidentally found the sense of camaraderie and

HER: Can I get you another drink? ZAN: (Smile, wink) You know what? You’re kinda cute. I think I’m going to call you. HER: You think so, huh? You don’t have my number. ZAN: Why, you’re right! Okay, tell me and I will write it down. HER: (Smiling) Not a good idea. I have a boyfriend. ZAN: (Pretending to write) Whoa, slow down. I didn’t quite catch