By Tony D.
In the event you cherished The Game...
Sebastian had man-boobs, and lifestyles was once a bummer...until he bought surgical procedure and stumbled on a web neighborhood of Pickup Artists. relocating to Montreal, he stumbles right into a international of events, intercourse, medications, and drama - simply to emerge with a brand new, yet questionable realizing of himself, girls, and the human .
Have you ever puzzled, how lengthy will it take to discover luck with girls? Does this Pickup Artist stuff rather work?
What compels a guy to relentlessly flirt for game, and at what cost?
Part handbook, half hipster-Unicorn sexual experience tale, one thousand Tiny disasters is a hilarious and addicting novel, for males who are looking to enhance, and girls who are looking to understand.
Read or Download A Thousand Tiny Failures: Memoirs of a Pickup Artist PDF
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Extra resources for A Thousand Tiny Failures: Memoirs of a Pickup Artist
Eric told me his favorite pickup bar was Tokyo. "Easy hipster chicks," he said. So I wanted to check it out. One night I walked up the stairs, past seven or eight pretty girls, but didn't/couldn't/wouldn't open any. I cruised into the main lounge and stood near the dance floor, tapping my foot, bobbing my head and scanning like a Terminator for the safest option: 41 someone easy, happy, alone, inviting. Many cool heads turned to check me out; I felt naked and out of my place. They were bridge-trolls, scarecrows, gargoyles.
Go figure. And based on the law of state-transference, whatever you feel, they feel. In theory anyway. So people like you more when you're happy, and they buy your shit, or suck your dick. "Oh dear," she said, her voice quivering like a broken harp. " "Oh Maam! But what if something were to happen to you, say in the bathtub, or on your way to go shopping? What if you tripped on a curb, or were bitten by a stray dog?
My supervisor was sitting in the middle of the call center, in a booth overlooking the drones in their hot, clickity-clacking little cubicles. He was flapping his flabby white arms about and yelling into his headset about ratios and quotas. The fluorescent lights made the sweat on his mustache and balding head glisten. The operators, mostly kids in their early twenties, one-finger punched buttons on their keyboards and yak-yakked, pushing their collective products onto mostly unreceptive customers.
A Thousand Tiny Failures: Memoirs of a Pickup Artist by Tony D.