Remember “Mystery”, the pickup artist in the guy liner and swim goggles who had a TV show where he taught awkward dudes how to pick up women? He developed a system to pick up chicks called The Mystery Method. On the tv show he had his faithful wingman, “Matador” by his side to help out.
I have defended pickup artists because there’s nothing wrong with guys learning how to approach and talk to women. Guys who learn PUA techniques gain confidence, and learn how to relax and engage women in conversation. This can only be a positive thing. Think of all the missed opportunities because a guy didn’t have the nerve to approach a woman.
BUT…..A few months back, our man “Mystery” tried unsuccessfully to pick up a woman at a club. He crashed and burned so badly she posted his lame texts and the video he sent her on the Internet for all to laugh at. The video of him nodding to Nickleback singing about joining the Mile High Club while he waves around a badly rolled joint is a fine example of excellence in douchbaggery. It’s also an example of what not to do.
Here’s how she said the Mystery evening started:
Mystery and his wingman Matador both flanked me and threw a bunch of game. So I did all the PUA stuff like negging, being alternately interested and then completely ignoring or jumping up mid convo to cut them off and change the song, kiss a friend hello, etc. Mystery asked for my number, I gave him my card, and he texted like 30 times. I wrote back a short response or two, and then he sent this video. I can’t stop watching it. It’s like next level Starbucks Drake hands.
I was surprised to see Matador in the video whip around from the corner throwing devil horns and unsexily attempting to move his hips to the beat of the music. What was he doing back there? Jerking off? And why is he in Mystery’s dreary basement apartment this time of night? Why are they still hanging out together like that? They clearly haven’t got their own women. All that skill in picking up women and the bottom line is that they are ALONE, SINGLE and having to bromance each other.
And then there’s the truly embarrassing throw-anything-out-there-and-hope-something-sticks-and-you-get-laid texts Mystery sent her:
A smart pickup artist would use his skills to find himself the most beautiful, sweetest, smartest, kindest, funnest girl he can and land her permanently.
Those skills shouldn’t for used for jumping from vadge to vadge like a Pinball Cock. That is only going to get one loneliness, Hep C and liver cancer.
I think the clear message here is that being a pickup artist has an expiration date. There’s something pathetic about a middle-aged man nodding to a Nickleback song while waving a marijuana cigarette in the hopes of luring some young woman he met in a bar to his cheaply decorated, dungeon-like pad.
Know when it’s time to bow out gracefully.