Learning The Lines: A Weekend With The Pick-Up Artists

If someone asked you to put a quantitative value on love what would you say? Would you offer the blossomy poet’s response with a Beatles-esque drum? Or the cynic’s reply of an algorithm based on years times happiness, divided by wage and expounded by acts of human infidelity and error? What could you possibly say to a question so bare?

How about 3000 dollars? It’s a nice enough number. For a sought after commodity like love it seems affordable. A bargain even. Certainly a well-tailored price for those of us still hampered and perplexed by the awkward human rituals that accompany dating.

Now what if I told you I wasn’t offering you a one-off shot at love but rather a method, tools by which one, any one, could attain love? Does 3000 dollars still seem reasonable? Are you still interested?

You’re skepticism is warranted. Mine was full bore until I experienced it. Offered a chance to attend a LoveSystems bootcamp, a weekend-long dating seminar put on by what we might call pick-up artists, I was hesitant. As if a single line or a movement sold at a price could work. “For six easy installments of $499.99 you TOO can live happily ever after.” I found the idea, on the whole, to be unbelievable.

Prior to this weekend the pick-up artist culture was not one of which I would say I was highly informed and am still not. Walking into a half full conference room at a downtown hotel I found myself in the scenario I thought I would: men, ranging in age and demeanor all looking anxious, nauseous or awestruck. Some seemed in the Darwinian sense of the phrase, suitable mating partners while others may have been defined in terms of a lion pack as the lesser of the pride. Still all seemed attentive and unassuming. All were there for the same reason and had little to hide. The opposite sex had, up until this point, confounded them and they sought refuge and advice from an outside source.

I sat down and stared, examining the room, but was greeted by nothing more than shifting seats and silence. At the front stood a far cry from a popped collared, slick-haired Adonis I had imagined would be leading us all to the light. At 5’8” and scruffy, bearded and maybe big-nosed, Cajun was what one might find as standard fare on college campuses across America. He was neither broad nor muscle-bound, his shirt unbuttoned to Saturday Night Fever levels, he was ragged.

His partner, TenMagnet, though clean-shaven with perhaps a little less of a definitive look, was equally unassumingly. Slightly taller with shorter hair, he exhibited no signs of laborious care. No products styled his hair, no tan tinted his skin. These were two guys, as average as you or I who intended to lead the lost with claims of astounding success despite or in spite of any overt physical advantage.

The seminar started as most would, with names offered and explanations exchanged. Despite some minor discrepancies everyone’s story seemed to be the same; anxiety and approach were the prevailing problems. Dave (we’ll call him Dave) for instance found it difficult to transition the friendships he’d formed into romantic relationships. Jake, a student, found himself at a loss once introductions were made and Steve, a successful lawyer and by far the oldest in the group, found approaching women at a bar too forward an enterprise. All seemed at a loss with what to do next, whether next was taking bar conversation somewhere else or initiating the conversation altogether. And so they settled seamlessly into talk about women and I waited intently to hear the golden line, that one simple trick to an easy lay and sure fire game. But it never came. No quick fixes were offered or even suggested but some revelation was being put forth because the once quiet audience had stirred, found caught on the edge of their seats and hanging on every word.