John Jones: The Game

Now I don’t want to come across all ‘boasty’ right off the bat, but I read a fair few books. Not even just to impress girls, staring blankly at a page while thinking about the plot of last night’s Gossip Girl either, I read the words and everything. Once I even read a whole chapter of Harry Potter without taking a break. Seriously it happened.

Yet still, even with this neck-snappingly massive brain of mine, I can’t quite get my head around the last book I read, ‘The Game’. The concept is fairly simple, journalist Neil Strauss investigates the world of ‘pick-up artists’, offering their trade secrets to readers along the way. He teaches readers how to engage with women and eventually, through body language and not-so-subtle psychological hints, how to secure dates with female strangers.

All pretty straightforward so far, but here’s where the problems start for readers who aren’t morally bankrupt. Strauss guides readers through the whole ‘pick-up’ side of things with more enthusiasm than a 14-year-old boy on an FHM internship, but tends to become a bit mute regarding the prospect of the following relationship. The reason is, of course, that his readers aren’t looking to call women to discuss their 10 favourite things about Robert Pattinson: they’re looking for numbers in the sole hope of bumping uglies before running as fast as their pervy legs will carry them.

For the record, I’ve not slipped on my dog collar here based just on the idea of wanting a one night stand: many men, and women, stay single for this very purpose, shunning commitment with every fibre of their being. The real worrying thing is the culture that has developed around the book. Men don’t go looking for women, they go “sarging”, they write-up “FR’s” (field reports) for other “PUA’s” (pick-up artists) to ensure that they don’t become “AFC’s” (Average Frustrated Chumps). Even Strauss himself isn’t a writer; he’s a “Life Hacker”.

Petty? Perhaps. But with 82,000 readers in the first four months of sales and a long-term place as a New York Times best-seller, the book definitely deserves the attention of a single man. This week I have taken up the book’s ideas and chosen to start my adventures at the (very) shallow end of the dating pool.

I decided it would only be fair to try the techniques out in a local establishment, and for those who aren’t regular tasters of the Merton nightlife, the borough is fairly limited when it comes to dance venues. For publicity reasons I probably shouldn’t name the place I eventually chose to visit, so for the sake of this article let’s just call it ‘Bo Na Na’. The club is marketed as an Eastern paradise, and it works, to an extent. Inside it looks like Aladdin’s ‘cave of wonders’, only if instead of the magic carpet you’ve got an epilepsy-inducing dancefloor, and instead of the lamp you’ve got a £12 cocktail that tastes suspiciously like Tropicana. Oh and instead of Jafar waiting outside there’s a drunk girl, sprawled on the concrete like a Starfish, crying into the kebab that she’s just dropped.

The book is intended as a step-by-step guide to picking up women, ventured in real life one page at a time. My first mistake of the evening was probably deciding to take a giant leap instead, picking up a few key points and trying them out. The book tells readers to try ignoring the women/men that you’re interested in, first spending time talking to their friends instead. It promotes the idea of subversive compliments and the idea of simple physical contact (lightly touching the person’s arm etc.) to engage a connection. Annoyingly, all these techniques seemed to be working, at least at first. My second mistake of the evening, as it turns out, was spending too much time with my friends Jack (Daniels) and Sam (Buca) instead of trying out the book’s ideas.

I can only offer one word of warning to those people who genuinely want to spend their evenings chasing after random women: either embrace sobriety and make a good impression or abandon the idea completely. After a drink or seven, the nuances between subversive compliment and all-out insult tend to become a little bit harder to distinguish and you end up looking about as smooth as a lumberjack’s armpit. Meeting prospective partners with alcohol in your system is always a bad idea: either you say something ridiculous and ruin any chance of earning their respect or you blink in your drunken haze and end up peering down to see someone who looks like the Churchill dog chewing on your bottom lip like it’s a squeeze toy.

Overall, I found out that the world’s ‘pick-up artists’ have clearly done their research. Even based on the early part of one night’s experience, it was pretty clear that these subtle tips are helpful when trying to meet female strangers in bars and clubs. The problem is, however, that the relationship is completely contrived. As a man you’re not genuinely interested in what the “target” is saying, but instead just thinking about the next move you’ll make. Also, even if (God forbid) the second and third date does eventually happen and all goes successfully, what will you tell your children? “Well, I met your mummy after I got Life Hacked and after two months of trying to hypnotise her, here we are – Happily Ever After”.

Both ‘The Game’ and its sequel ‘The Rules Of The Game’ are interesting reads, and I would advise both men and women to give it a quick look, even if just to find out the lengths that some people will go to in order to engage with the opposite sex. Personally, I’m after something with a little more sincerity when forming a relationship. Something natural. Something not at all contrived, forced or awkward like, oh I don’t know, blind dating?

Next week: Blind Dating!