I’m walking back from the gym yesterday, sweaty and tired, when up ahead I see a figure walking toward me. As I continue, the figure comes into focus and I realize it’s a young lady. When she nears, I notice that she’s a very cute girl, perhaps mid 20’s, with long blonde hair and what appears to be a nice body. Moments later we pass each other, eyes connecting, and we both give a little smile. My mind is overwhelmed with a compulsion to turn, call to her and say,

“Did you see that fight over there? Two girls were fighting over some guys named George.”

Mystery, Matador and J-Dog have taken over my life. Their show, The Pick Up Artist, is the most compelling reality show I’ve ever seen. It’s helmed by Mystery, who makes me question why I don’t wear more jewelry, or have a pony tail. A man who looks like he should be in a band opening for Cinderella. A man with all the answers. He’s got two henchmen that he refers to as his “wingmen”. Matador, who sports a Spanish name but I’m betting is probably Egyptian, and J-Dog, who looks like the aged bad-boy member of a boy band. Together, they’re the 3 wise men of how-to-work women. The system, developed by Mystery, is supposed to be scientifically based and 100 percent effective. You can learn to do anything from start a conversation with a chick at Starbucks to ending up in a giant orgy with a sorority house full of hot girls.

The system works if you work the system.

After years of touring the country, offering up his secrets to lonely, socially inept guys for a mere $3,000 per seminar, Mystery gets his own reality show. On the surface, the show is shallow and sexist. Some “hot” dude teaching a bunch of losers how to bang chicks. But, and I mean this in all seriousness, there is far more to it than that. Beyond the stupid terminology, nicknames and retarded challenges, there is an underlying honesty to this show. It takes the young, hopeless, insecure male that many of us have been in our lives, and instills in them a confidence that years of therapy could never achieve. Before your very eyes these former geeks, dorks and douche-bags transform into confident, socially attractive men who can now, at the very least, make a friend, if not meet a potential mate. Personally, I only ever needed two proven tools to land girls, get them interested, arrange a date and get laid….

1) Internet
2) Alcohol

I will give you that system absolutely free. Granted, there are varying degrees of success that you might hope to achieve. Attracting hotter girls, finding “girlfriend quality” chicks, arranging a 3-way…and those all cost extra. But the initial step is yours just for being you. That’s how much more I love you than Mystery does. Additional coaching, profile writing and wine list suggestions vary in cost. But wait, back to my point.

The thing that REALLY makes The Pick Up Artist better than any other reality show I’ve seen is that it’s REAL. I challenge you to point out a show where the contestants are their actual, guileless selves, with no falseness or pretension. Nothing about these guys appears to be contrived. They are glorious in their lack of shame. These dudes have given up all pride and said to the world, “I have not one ounce of inner strength or confidence so here I am, prepared for your derision, your scorn, your laughter. I am gambling that this stupid reality show will give me a new life, a power over my own fears, and open up the door to a world of possibilities that I have, so far, been unable to open myself.” And they make me believe it. Mystery makes me believe it. Because for all the fluff and nonsense, I think he’s got something. This is coming from a guy who has, for many years, been surrounded by women and gotten laid at will. With no system and no plan. With no money, no big house, no hot car. With no rings, no piercings and no goggles on my head. No discernible reason other than maybe making a chick laugh until her panties fell off. (Teach that shit Mystery. Matador ain’t funny.) Not everyone is so lucky.

So, I’m going against the grain and saying that this show is not lame but is, in fact, a sign that our culture full of insecure, scared little boys, but also that those problems can be overcome with simple tools like “gambits, negs and DHV’s”. Perhaps these things should be taught in the 7th grade, so boys like me wouldn’t have to wait til their 18 to lose their virginity, and wouldn’t spend their lives in drunken stupors, banging hundreds of nameless sluts when we could be opening “sets” at our local grocery stores, or church, or places where normal girls are waiting to be banged by guys with more refined skills, and systems, and fake stories. More guys would be getting laid thus less guys would be inclined toward anger and violence. This is the type of show that might very well change the world, end war, and create a utopia where there are no lonely virgin men.

Mystery might very well be Jesus reincarnated.

I’m off now. To go out into the world and, as I wish I’d done when I was a boy, see every woman as a potential “target”, every group as a possible “set” to open, and every friendly look as a reason to escalate “kino”. It is time for me to put the system to the test and perhaps, one day, I too can have a cool nickname.

“Hey ladies, I only have a minute then I have to get back to my friends. But let me ask you a question. If your boyfriend kissed another girl, do you consider that cheating? By the way, my name is Bad Ass Matador…”

Otherwise, it’s Game Over.