By Tony D.
For those who beloved The Game...
Sebastian had man-boobs, and lifestyles was once a bummer...until he bought surgical procedure and came across a web group 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 figuring out of himself, girls, and the human situation.
Have you ever puzzled, how lengthy will it take to discover good fortune with ladies? Does this Pickup Artist stuff rather work?
What compels a guy to relentlessly flirt for recreation, and at what cost?
Part handbook, half hipster-Unicorn sexual event tale, 1000 Tiny mess ups is a hilarious and addicting novel, for males who are looking to increase, 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 info for A Thousand Tiny Failures: Memoirs of a Pickup Artist
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. Three men huddled around every girl, all in sleeveless neon shirts and sockless, canvass shoes.
They were right. One day an acquaintance told me about his trip to 31 Thailand, and how he hooked up with Australian girls, German girls, Swiss girls, and a bunch of local Thai girls. "Dude, Vancouver sucks. People here are cold. You should travel. " "I can't afford a trip to Thailand. " "Man… it's the promised land. It's like a chunk of Europe dropped into Canada. " "French girls are beautiful and slutty. Not to mention the music scene is amazing. " I said, leaning in. " 32 Chapter 5 Luv (Fight or Flight) I drove to Esther's house in North Vancouver; a safe upper class neighborhood where doctors and lawyers married pretty women and made prettier daughters.
Pathetic. Thank god for my cell phone; my water-wings, my savior. I'm not alone…I have friends on the way! I'm just on the phone, waiting. Don't look at me you handsome bastards. And people did look at me, but they weren't looking at me—they were looking through me, into the ether, too wrapped in their own thoughts of work, sex, money, school. Y'know, human shit. I hung up on my imaginary friends and walked briskly off the terrace, past the bar, through the dance floor, down the stairs and out of the club.
A Thousand Tiny Failures: Memoirs of a Pickup Artist by Tony D.