This Ain't Oprah's Book Club - Part III

I finally sat down and forced myself to swallow a huge chunk of the book I’m reading, “The Game.” It’s been a long time since I’ve forced myself to swallow anything. Neil Strauss, the author, is making me remember why.

When we last left off, Strauss had only just met Mystery, the pick up artist (PUA) extraordinaire who had his own show on VH-1. Perhaps you remember it. It was lame. Style is Neil’s alter ego who has become so obsessed with casually bedding women that he has decided to study every aspect of this activity, from memorizing the most successful opening lines to perfecting hypnosis.

Yes, hypnosis. Or things just like it. Strauss – excuse me, Style – calls it “chick crack”:

“Most women, they say, respond to routines involving tests, psychological games, fortune-telling, and cold-reading like addicts respond to free drugs.”

As it turns out, there is a large underground society of men trading secrets and teaching each other how to play the proverbial game. This takes place both on-line and in person. Mystery is but one of many “gurus” on the subject, all of whom employ different tactics to achieve the same goal. Most of the men they charge for these tutorials are shy, player-wannabe types, some of whom have reached adulthood without ever having sex. As it turns out, that can really fuck a guy up. Some of theses dudes seem to have vendettas against the gender that’s denied them from reaching sexual satisfaction with a partner. The result: outright misogyny. One guru even suggests using the book “Dog Training,” by Lew Burke, for tips on handling girls.

Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. One PUA called Sweater (yes, they all have ridiculous nicknames…oh wait, so do the guys in this blog) actually gives up the game when he finds a woman he wants to be with monogamously. He tells Style:

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m getting out at the top. I’ve come to understand that without commitment, you cannot have depth in anything, whether it’s a relationship, a business, or a hobby.”

Now as much as I hate to admit that I agreed with anything in this book, that part resonated with me. By some accounts, I have been a player. I have used men for sex, among other things, without remorse. And taking time off from doing that has allowed me to realize that I’ve been cheating myself out of the feelings of attachment that can eventually lead to true love. I believe that love is why human beings are here. Sure we may act like animals, hunting prey and mating to ensure population proliferation, but at the end of the day we have the opposable thumbs and emotions. That what makes separates man from beast, although this book tends to blur the line between the two.

I have about 200 pages left. I’ll be traveling a lot over the next two weeks [Ed Note: not sure how that’s going to affect my blog posts, but I’m hoping it won’t] so I intend to finish this bitch while I’m inevitably delayed at O’Hare. Hopefully, this is going to lead me to some grandiose epiphany about my past relationships, playing the game, and my future, but I’m really just hoping it doesn’t make me hate men any more than it already has.

xo

PS-Happy 50th Birthday to the Renegade Millionaire! Remember babe, you may be “over the hill,” but you’ve been under a 26-year-old. Life could be worse.