Player Season: The Pickup Artist Who Hacked Nike (23 page)

We also shared a determined willingness, or need, to further our own areas of expertise. Anything we pursued was a competition and it didn't matter if it was girls, websites or video games. Shamefully, the fiercest competition was brought on through the latter.

Before starting our first day of studies in his home office, Dave went out and bought me a brand new Apple laptop. Instead of pestering him from the corner of his desk using his old laptop, I pestered him from the corner of his desk using my own.

He taught me about editing code, search engine optimization, sales techniques, networking, link building and countless strategies on how to build a business of my own. Dave gave me one piece of advice and once I applied it, he would give me another.

Time management was of the utmost importance to him, more than anyone I've ever known. Dave was, at the time, running more businesses than I could even count, and those were just the ones I knew about. The bottom line was this; if he was going to help me, he needed to make sure his guidance wasn't going in one ear and out the other.

On the flip side, if I were going to learn from him, it would require asking a lot of questions. My constant badgering had its ups and downs. He would either give me valued information or he would go berserk and tell me to leave him the fuck alone. No matter the result, I knew deep down he appreciated my persistence, which ironically, was the same persistence needed to be successful with women.

After a few weeks, I started another website called PlayerSeason.com. It was a sports blog that never would have existed if it weren't for my altercation with Justin. Admittedly, I saw it as my avenue for influence in the sports world, and it was created with bad intentions; one of them being a tool for revenge against Evan Longoria. I may have forgiven him, but I never forget.

On top of Dave's expertise, his friend Jiyan would stop in town between coast-to-coast conferences and teach me the finer aspects of public relations. He taught me about press releases and how essential they were for building a brand and ultimately getting my businesses off the ground.

It was strange, just a year and a half before this I was asking a lady in Scottsdale for computer and PR advice. Now there were experts in both fields at my fingertips; it was almost as if my wishes were granted.

Although Dave and Jiyan had steady career paths, their spousal relationships were much more turbulent. Before we could leave the house for a night out, Jiyan was forced to spend hours on the phone arguing with a mystery woman and Dave, well, he had his own volatile ex-girlfriend to deal with.

Her name was "Brianna" and her looks certainly fit the bill for being a fiery former companion. She had short blonde hair, a slim figure and less than subtle implants. We've all met the girl who was hot enough to act crazy every now and then; this was Brianna.

One day, while playing FIFA on Xbox, Jiyan and I were able to see her in action. It was entertaining to say the least.

"She is fucking crazy!" said Dave, after running down the stairs.

Then Brianna entered the room and gave Dave a cold stare, prompting Jiyan and I to sit upright on the couch, in preparation for the show.

"Why don't you just leave?" Dave asked her.

"Just leave? Are you fucking serious?" said an irate Brianna.

"Obviously you're not stable right now, so why don't you just go?" Dave suggested.

"You weren't saying that five minutes ago when you were busting all over my chest!" yelled Brianna.

Jiyan and I also busted ... out ... in laughter, which caused Brianna to crack a smile. This also lightened the overall mood, and Brianna exited without further conflict.

It was now time for Dave and I to commence our mission in the field.

Until this point, I was the most clever person in any group I was ever associated with, but with Dave in the mix, this was no longer so. Most people feel threatened by someone smarter than themselves; not me, I knew it would generate brilliant ideas and only make me better.

One of the first ideas was devising a strategic plan to pick the best possible area to approach girls. So we located the office for Scottsdale's top modeling agency, and took a seat outside the Starbucks next door.

Sunglasses are essential for scouting talent; they provide adequate cover to stare at girls without the unwarranted stigma of doing so. Thanks to Justin's vast supply of designer sunglasses, Dave and I looked quite sharp on our recon mission.

One by one the girls walked out, and one by one I approached them. Each was followed by a review session with Dave.

"What did you say?" Dave asked.

"I told her she was pretty," I responded.

"Like she doesn't already know," suggested Dave.

"Yeah, but girls never get tired of hearing it," I told him.

A lot of guys go with pickup lines when they talk to girls, and every one of these guys is making a mistake. Females are wired to read facial expressions more aptly than males, and whether you know it or not; their bullshit detectors are stronger than we think.

This is why it's best to start the conversation with a relevant and current topic so it doesn't seem rehearsed. Telling the girl she's pretty is another obvious, but powerful tool that will never go out of style. These two bullet points may sound simple, and that's because they are. In baseball, if you are facing a pitcher throwing 95MPH, you aren't thinking about (or rehearsing) your swing. To be a good hitter, you must react naturally to your current environment, and to be a successful pickup artist; you must do the same.

Don't get me wrong, some pick-up lines (the savvy ones) work miracles, but they have to be used at the right time. Using them in the opening line is never a good idea, and when you do use them, it has to be undetectable. This is best served when you subtly steer the conversation in a direction where a girl sets it up for you; which in turn, makes it relevant.

Once the list of new contacts was stocked, we headed back to the house to go over the next crucial, and most difficult, phase of advancing with girls ... how to handle text messaging.

This is a skill I still haven't mastered to this day, but I have picked up a few key proponents to enact. The first is to be exciting and adventurous. Send them a message you think they have never seen before, regardless of how crazy it may seem. Remember, being different is above everything else.

The second is to start your texts with an open-ended message (Credit: Neil Strauss). Instead of saying 'what's up?' or 'how are you doing?' it's better to bait them into responding by making your message consist of two parts, and they don't get the second (most enticing) piece until they respond to the first. 'So I figured out what makes you so attractive' is a good one. Girls love themselves and naturally, they will be interested in what you think their best feature is. You're basically telling them you know exactly why they're beautiful. Sure, they've all been told they're pretty, but how many guys specifically tell them why?

Dave progressed through the next few weeks, which included him dating a 19-year-old Latin girl, but he was still eager for more. He really wanted to kick his game up another notch, so without telling me, he went out and bought a brand new Mazerati.

Unlike most people on his level; you would never be able to tell Dave was successful, even if you happened to see him walking down the street. He wore jeans without labels on the back pockets and his typical shirt was gray without a single stitch or logo. This was until I began forcing him to wear some of my shirts, which made a difference. I suppose he took the same principle into buying the Mazerati; positive results were bound to come.

Without question, a car like his will help seal the deal, but unfortunately most approaches don't occur in a drive-by scenario, so there was still work to do.

There's an annual golf tournament held in Scottsdale every year and although golf is probably the most boring sport to watch, the event (somehow) still attracted thousands of girls.

We walked down the cart path on our way in and I began discussing what I think is the best mindset to have before approaching a girl.

"You know what you should be thinking before you talk to them?" I asked Dave.

"What's that?" Dave replied.

"If you never tried talking to them and you never asked for their number, then the answer would still be no," I advocated.

"Ahhh, solid point," Dave said while nodding his head.

"If you try talking to them, at least you will find out if it could have been a yes. Virtually, you have absolutely nothing to lose," I continued.

"I agree," said Dave.

"And do you know which girls are the easiest to approach?" I asked.

"Who's that?" questioned Dave.

"This may sound crazy, but the best looking ones are most often the easiest to talk to. Do you want to know why?" I queried.

"I'd love to hear this," Dave responded, having not yet bought into my theory.

"Because out of every type of girl, most guys are afraid of talking to the hottest ones. When you see an extremely attractive girl, you never think she's lonely because her outer vibe has years of built-up confidence. But in reality, the inner-vibe is lonely from guys being afraid to approach. If you simply talk to them, you're doing what 95% of guys won't do, and that's a lot more than half of the battle," I ended my sermon, and Dave accepted the concept.

After hours of practice on various targets, we entered a tent for a concert being held once the tournament ended for the day. We ran into two young blondes so I opened, and Dave swooped in. Then I needed to go to the restroom, and I used my time away to test him.

"Your goal is to keep both girls engaged in this conversation with you until I get back," I whispered in Dave's ear.

On my way back in, I was told the tent was at capacity and if it weren't for a small opening between a fence and a pole, I never would have seen if Dave succeeded or not. I re-entered 15 minutes later, and there he was, with both girls on their toes. It's very rewarding to see progress from someone you're teaching, and Dave was becoming a master.

The girl's numbers were procured and we carried on (Dave ended up seeing his target weeks' later).

While the crowd was preparing for the band O.A.R.'s performance, I spotted the most challenging object of desire dancing onstage. Just like Jessica from the PussyCat Lounge, I needed to figure out a way to get close to her. The only way to accomplish this was to get backstage, but we lacked the necessary credentials. Naturally, Dave and I began plotting for a loophole.

I got on my blackberry and researched information on each member of the band. The plan was to act like we were family members, and being related to the lead singer wouldn't be the most believable backstory, but the drummer might work.

"You can't come back here without a pass," the bulky security guard stated.

"I'm Brad Culos man, Chris Culos's brother...the drummer for O.A.R." †I told him with an air of cockiness, acting like I was offended.

I was hoping the guard valued his job over facing potential backlash for insulting a family member, and I was right because he let us right through.

Now Dave and I were on a small platform, joined solely by family members of the band. We tried to mix in, but it was a tight-knit group and the prospect of being ousted was imminent. My time to talk to the dancer was dwindling down.

"Hey, what's your name?" I asked her.

"Reva," she said, while two guards stepped onto the platform.

"What's your last name?" I demanded, with no time to get her number after our cover was in the midst of being blown.

She quickly blurted it out and then we were whisked away.

This information would normally be rendered useless; if we weren't living in the Facebook era.

However, since we were (and are), it took just a handful of keystrokes before she was in her car and on her way to Dave's.

"So, you're a dancer?" I nervously asked the short but radiant Reva.

"Yeah, I also do promotional videos for people," Reva replied, while I attempted to keep my eyes off her chest.

"I have some baseball memorabilia on a website I own, you should do one for me," I suggested.

"Do you want to do it right now?" she asked.

"Yes. Yes I do." I anxiously told her.

I raced upstairs, snatched Dave's video camera and gathered as much memorabilia as my arms could hold from the closet. After prepping her lines, a most fortunate PR event was officially in production.

She wore a strapped teal tank top and ripped jeans as she stood in front of the fireplace in Dave's kitchen. I was torn between alternate desires of creating a great video and my instinctual longing to sleep with her. I was forced to manage both.