Here’s a pretty thorough field report from back in the day with a lot of really cool info and some highlights on my personal theory of ethics.
The Benefits of Persistence and the Question of Dignity.
“So this is a realllllly long post. I’ve chopped it up into pieces for you:
If you want to read about my student’s success: Skip to part 1
If you want to read about my interaction with a girl: Skip to part 2
If you want to skip to the discussion on voicemails and texting: Skip to part 3.
If you want the overall summary: Skip to part 4.
I’m writing this from Delta Flight #ihavenoidea somewhere above Nebraska on my way home from a 1-on-1 in Detroit.
This weekend was great; my student worked extremely hard and got results because of it! The first night had him approaching like crazy, fearlessly shedding the nerves that were shaking him in the car on the way there and egging him on to open set after set, continuously. Saturday night, he approached just as well and, though he didn’t hit the goal we had set for him, he did get a number that texted him the very next day. On the last night, he was so furious about missing the goal by an inch the night before that he managed to apply himself (and the material) so congruently and so aptly that he pulled two girls back to our hotel room! Though, I had to talk to a particularly unattractive and overweight girl about horses for nearly two hours, that’s what I was there for.
Because of our students’ varying degrees of experience, we have had all sorts of successes on our bootcamps, but for him this was a truly great achievement and had him giggling like a schoolgirl for the rest of my stay! As an instructor, this kind of success makes me extremely proud and makes me incredibly happy for my student. I am there to create a lasting happiness and I saw, when those girls walked into our room (after I raced back to the room to hide the workbooks and PUA paraphernalia, loudly announcing, “Where have you guys been??”), the look of both accomplishment and understanding in his eyes, letting me know that this wasn’t just two girls we were going to create connections with, this was the door to success opening for him, and he knew it.
Like I said, the weekend was a huge success, but that’s not why I’ve chosen to write this article. I’ve chosen to write this because of a situation I was in with one of the most incredible girls I’ve ever met, and it all played out in front of the student (who later said it was “Next level shit”). Here’s what happened:
Saturday night of our bootcamp, my student was hooking sets like crazy, in a matter of one day, his BLP (Body Language Positioning) became that of a cool, confident socialite and he was Kino Turning and Side-Stepping to isolate girls. Basically, in the latter half of Saturday Night, I was coaching my student on some pretty advanced stuff; verbal connection tactics, BT Spike delivery, etc. This is very rewarding for an instructor, but also EXTREMELY boring because it means that I send him into set and sit by myself until he comes back. I’ll sit so that I can watch him and observe any BLP that I think I can correct but, as I said previously, he pretty much had all that on lock, so I was the coolest dude in O’Toole’s Irish Pub in Troy, MI, sitting at a two top by myself watching this guy talk to girls. Pretty glamorous life, huh?
I decided I was going to head over to the bar and wait in the cattle herd to get another Redbull, when I feel someone beside me lean over and say, “I like your hair.”
I didn’t actually see her, as she was basically behind me, speaking over my shoulder, but I knew she was talking to me (I’m pretty much the only person with nice hair in the whole frigging place). I also ain’t no dummy, so I know this chick is hitting on me. Girls aren’t particularly smooth when it comes to ‘hitting on’ guys and this is usually what they say to me when they want to strike up a conversation. I casually turn around; ready to deliver my pre-loaded response. For those of you that have taken programs with me, you know what I’m about to say to this girl. This is her A Phase. Funny enough, B Phase begins immediately and continues for the rest of the night.
“Thanks. I grew it myself.”
At the end of the line, our eyes meet and I am literally struck by this absolutely gorgeous, pixie-haired brunette in a cute white top and tight jeans. She’s 5’5” with stunning brown eyes, very little makeup save eyeliner and a bit of mascara, and the most mischievous look I have ever seen on a girl that wasn’t already naked on my bed. Or in my car. Or in Target.
I am really not into girls with short hair, but this little pixie cut was just perfect. She looked like Astrid Kircherr and a white Rhianna with the face of what I’ve been dreaming about since I was 8 and it was all I could do to get my brain into gear to start my thread about “Whether or not she thinks girls with short hair could date guys with long hair because I once read an article in Cosmo that says hair length can’t be blahlblahblahblahblah.”
“OF COURSE they can. Don’t be silly. That’s ridiculous.” She cuts me off and continues with the same know-it-all smirk, “That’s absurd to say they can’t be together. It’s just about preference.”
She had made already made a point, but she continued a little more fervidly, but still with the smirk on her face, “Why would you even SUGGEST that?? That’s so ridiculous…”
It was right at that second that I realized she had what I had been searching for for months; the incredible, sarcastic sense of humor that was so common where I grew up (Boston), but is almost impossible to find where I am now (Los Angeles). Right there I knew that this conversation was going to be amazing. Right there I knew I was going to have to drag this bar trip out as long as possible. Right there I knew that I wanted that girl.
I cut her off immediately. “Ohhhh SHUT UP. Don’t be so damn defensive. It was just a question.” I smiled big, cueing her into my understanding and a giant smile burst across her face. We knew exactly what the other was doing and we were going to take it to the limit.
“Maybe you should think more about your questions before you ask them.”
“Maybe you should think more about your outfits.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I didn’t like your hair anyway. I just said that to get to the bar faster.”
“That’s fine. It’s a wig anyway.”
“It looks fake.”
“My butt’s fake, too. Touch it.”
“I’m not touching your butt!”
She goes to touch it and I slap her hand away, “DON’T TOUCH MY BUTT, YOU PERVERT!”
She bursts out laughing and our eyes meet. She’s lost her cool and is now giggling. I won the round and she knows it. She is a bit frustrated and needs to gain back the ground. Frantically searching for her next line, I’ve had just enough time to prepare my universal retort and as she starts to speak, I crush her.
“I wish you weren’t so…”
“NO, I WILL NOT MAKE OUT WITH YOU!!!!!” I loudly announce to the bar, looking around. “THIS GIRL IS TRYING TO MAKE OUT WITH ME. DISGUSTING!!!” I am now pointing to her and people are looking over. Her face is bright red and she can’t stop laughing. I’ve just showed her my A game and she admits defeat with the biggest smile and a slight touch to my arm that I’m sure she didn’t even notice. I am in love with her right about now.
The conversation continues on that way until after I get my drink. She’s at the bar to close her tab and I say, “Before you go, give me your number. I need to get back to my friend.”
“I don’t give out my number.”
“Bullshit. That’s the gayest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She laughs and takes my phone. “Now, don’t break it!” I say.
“I’m not going to break your crappy phone!”
“SHUT UP AND PUT YOUR NUMBER IN IT!”
She earnestly doesn’t know how to put the number in and blushes with embarrassment after only numbers show up. I take it from her and say, “Alright, alright. I’ll do it.”
UHOH! HERE COMES THE COCKBLOCK!
A short, dirty-blonde with a big rack stumbles into our set and I open her right away, complimenting her and talking about her friend and blahblahblah. My girl has taken this opportunity to close out her tab and I’m left in charge of her friend, winning her over fairly quickly. At this point, I’ve been in-set for about 10 minutes and I’ve gotten my Redbull, so I need to get back to my student. I try to kino turn my girl, but she’s playing hard to get because it fits our relationship. I really have to go, so I reach into my pocket and pull out the business cards that my mother gave me for my birthday; they are ultra 80’s cards with just my first name on one side and my phone number on the other side. They are, by far, the tackiest thing I own, but absolutely PERFECT for this scenario. I stuff one into her back pocket and tell the friend that I’ll see them later. She’s totally cool and gives me a high-five and I go back to…. Sitting alone. Glamorous job.
The evening progresses and my student’s gotten his number. We’re going to bounce to a new venue across the street and wait in the long ID line for about 10 minutes. Five minutes into it, I turn around to check the talent in the back of the line and my girl is standing there, by herself, visibly drunk and visibly embarrassed.
“I was going to put your card in your back pocket, but I lost it!”
She realizes that she has just expressed a genuine emotion to me and quickly puts back on the joking exterior, “…I was hoping you wouldn’t see me.”
We go inside together. She’s lost her friends and doesn’t have the cash to get to the area upstairs (where all the cool kids are at, and where we were headed after some quick approaches). My student is out trying to hook, so I bring her in close to me and we start the verbal battle right away. It continues for another 15 or 20 minutes until my student comes back with her friends, ironically, and we all start to talk. I am cool with her friends, who turn out to be really great people, but she and I keep throwing sly digs at each other, unbeknownst to anyone else. These overlooked insults casually tossed at one another in the midst of general discussion are our loveletters to each other. Every time she says I look like a drug addict or every time I say that she is noticeably poor, we’re really saying, “Man, this is awesome. I really like you.” This is the heart of C Phase and why I like this style of humor the best; we are building a connection through pretending there is no connection and the unspoken attraction, when understood by both parties, is an incredible bond.
Our eyes reflect this and her friends are a bit confused. We sort everything out and all head upstairs. My student is asking me about how we’re interacting and why she’s giving me all these shit-tests, so I explain to him about sarcasm and the nature of the interaction. Luckily, we had been talking about conversation flow and keeping up BT with serious, nonstop spiking, so this was the perfect example. He tells me he just wants to watch me for a bit and, since he’s been busting his ass this weekend, I tell him that’s fine.
Her friends have pretty much figured out what’s going on. The one girl she’s with (that I spoke to at the bar before) has told me she’s cool with me ‘banging’ her friend and that I should “Just take the girl home. She REALLY likes you.”
This makes me giddy, as I am totally smitten with this girl. Unfortunately, I’ve gotta work and I’m not taking her back to my hotel room until I’m off the clock, which isn’t going to happen this weekend. Either way, my girl and I have a parry/riposte relationship to keep up and my student stands between us, watching us like the judge at a tennis match.
I realize I haven’t gotten her number yet and pull out my phone again. Her eyes light up, obviously thinking I had forgotten, and leans in to give me a hard time again. We exchange a bit of the customary byplay and, when she goes to give me her number, SHE GETS OPENED BY SOME TOOL FROM THE LAST BAR! Ugh. AMOG tactics time.
I go into AMOG overdrive, delivering the guy logical questions until he just wants out of the set ASAP. He finally leaves and she turns to me and yells her number. FINALLY! We both have a moment of “Phew! I was worried there, for a minute!” and then back into the volley of insults resulting in her pouring a drink on my leg and me pouring my drink down her shirt. We’re giggling and laughing uncontrollably, while telling each other that we’d rather be dead than talk to each other or that there was no one else at the bar we’d enjoy talking to LESS.
My student and I work more and then the lights turn on and we all say our goodbyes. She tells me to call her tomorrow. “Don’t do that ‘waiting three days’ thing, because we don’t have much time!” and, just as we were about to have the magical first kiss, her friend drags her off by the hand. She shoots me the heartbroken, “I’m sorry!” as she looks back, being pulled through the crowd.
I text her when I get home (because we’ve already built an incredible connection and these types of things don’t matter) and she responds right away. I am happy and we agree to go out the next night. My student wants to let her in on what’s going on, so we can open sets with her. I am looking forward to it!
Here’s where the tricky business happens. I call her the next day and she doesn’t answer. That’s fine, I expect that. 85% of the numbers you will call will be sent to voicemail simply because that is customary, don’t take it to heart. Use it as a chance to leave a great voicemail, filled with intrigue. This is what I did and she didn’t call me back for hours. I started getting a bit freaked out.
“Oh man, what if I misread everything? What if she was too drunk? What if I left the wrong voicemail? What if whatifwhatifwhatif”
This is all the emotional stuff that happens inside guys that like girls. I’m a pro and it still happens to me. The trick, however, is not letting it affect your actions: I wanted to call her 100 times, ala Swinger’s the movie, but I didn’t. I relaxed and looked stoic and cool… While freaking out like a little girl.
She texted me back a few hours later, telling she liked my voicemail, but luckily, she knew I was a jackass from seeing me in person. We were back on. Right there I boosted Buying Temperature with more banter and then asked her how she felt about swimming. I was going to invite her to the hotel to swim and we’d go out straight from there (This is a great way to make sure she’s not flaking, she wont be late, and also; sex.)
She says she’s eating with a friend, but will consider it. I know from calibrating many women that she’s into the idea, but doesn’t know if she’ll be able to juggle her plans. I figure she won’t have enough time, but keep pushing.
This is where it gets shitty: I am texting her right up until when we leave for the club (a 20 minute drive) and, as we pull up, she says she’s just getting out of bed to come. I know she has to work at 4am and was only going to come out for a bit, so I’m a bit hesitant. As soon as we’re in the club, she’s stopped texting me entirely. Fuck.
I send another text, just in case she’s ignored her phone or put it in her purse (sending up a follow-up text to make the phone vibrate/ring again to remind her to check it is often helpful. PROTIP: Sometimes I’ll send the same text twice because you can blame it on your phone being weird and not lose any value). I get no answer and I have come to a conclusion; she’s either a) fallen asleep (most likely) or b) bailed on me in a mean way.
This basically sucks, but I put it from my mind. Funny enough, my student asks me where she is and I just say, “Oh, she fell asleep, I think.”
He looks into my eyes and goes, “Don’t worry. You can’t win them all.” Amazing.
That brings us to today. It’s about 3:30pm and I’m sitting on the airplane, ready to leave to LAX. Just as we are about to take off, I send her one last text. To some, this may seem needy or supplicative or whatever, but to me, it was very necessary. She and I had a really strong connection and I know that if she fell asleep or something else happened, she probably feels really guilty and isn’t going to text me again, that’s the way that women work. Otherwise, if she were just a cold-hearted bitch, she would ignore the text. No big. Thinking this girl truly was more than I had met in a long time, I trusted my instincts and sent her a text that said, “I’m not sure what went down last night, but I want to let you know that there are not a lot of girls like you and that I truly did enjoy spending time with you. Take it easy.”
I sighed, leaned back, and thought about the high hopes I had for Sunday night with her. Almost immediately I get a response. She sends me a text telling me she’s so incredibly sorry and that her friend with a baby ran out of gas and she had to go pick her up and everything was crazy hectic and when she got home she fell straight asleep for work at 4am. Remember that she stopped texting me at 10:30pm.
We texted a few times and I played it cool. She apologized profusely and told me she was too embarrassed to text me an apology, also thinking that because I was “so smooth” I was just in it to have sex with her. I told her not to worry and I was going up in the air, so we could talk later.
Snap to the future. Present day.
When I landed, I had a text that said, “If you’re reading this, it means you’ve landed safely and that I have to deal with you. Ugh.” She stuck with the sarcasm and, essentially erased the speedbump that was her flake. We have been talking ever since and she’ll be flying out here in a month to see me. Persistence pays off.
There is always a question of persistence versus dignity in any aspect of seduction. Phone and Text being my specialty, I am constantly getting questions like, “How many texts do I send before I give up?” or “How many calls is too many if she’s not answering?” The most inclusive answer that I give is to put yourself in her shoes. If she’s not answering, there’s a reason. The reason could be, ‘My phone broke’ or ‘At a doctor’s appointment’, but it could also be ‘You failed a shit test’ or ‘You’re texting too much in general’, so there’s gonna be a little bit of necessary introspection in which you must be COMPLETELY HONEST with yourself. Has she not been responding as quickly or verbosely as usual? Was she giving you one-word answers straight off the bat? Does she seem just not that into you?
In this case, I put myself in her shoes and I discovered that either I misread the whole situation and she was playin’ me (VERY unlikely, as you can’t hustle a hustla), or that something was up. I then had to put myself in a tricky position; do I keep up texting her (in the case of situation A: risk looking like a jackass and getting a full-on rejection text) or do I hope that it’s situation B and that I will push through her embarrassment and let her know that she is a really good person.
In this case, it worked out. There have been many that haven’t, but this is an example I want to share with you because we’re still talking and she’s still an incredible person.”
Thanks for reading this whole thing.