The Secret Life of a Pickup Instructor
Women. Money. Recognition. Fame…on the Internet. That may or may not be what you believe is the job description of a pickup instructor. (And that may or may not be accurate.) Though, you’ve probably never considered the private life—the secret life—of a man who makes a living off teaching other men how to effectively meet women.
If you strip away the self-indigence of the sex, drugs, and internet drama, you’d find a life much more introspective and sensitive than you’d probably expect. That’s because any pickup instructor worth his weekend wages possess the professional skill of quickly understanding people—both men and women—and sizing up their fears, their wants, their desires.
Whether we’re instructing or seducing, pickup instructors use this ability to create rapport, command respect, stoke attraction, and change the way people think and behave. Essentially, the true job description of a pickup instructor is someone who routinely and systematically imposes his view of the world onto other people.
Our views on relationships, etiquette, life, and sex are tattooed on those around us, as those people have voluntarily opened themselves to our reality. Whether they “opened up” via our marketing message (in the case of students) or an actual opener (in the case of the girls), anyone who allows a pickup instructor in their presence will often find themselves adopting his perspective.
I remember having coffee with one of the most well-known, world-renown pickup instructors, who said to me, “I know that if a girl’s around me long enough, we’ll sleep together. So I’m in no rush.”
That brand of cool confidence is only half the story—the “public life” of a pickup instructor. That practiced skill, that field-hardened courage, is not turned off so easily once the weekend program is over, or the girl gets dressed and leaves. Privately, we focus our professional skill of perception on our own fears, wants, and desires.
In those quiet, alone hours, when we flick off the lamp on our nightstand and lay awake in bed waiting for sleep, we cannot keep our professional selves separate from our private selves. The quiet darkness floods us with questions and doubts unknown to most people.
When strangers choose you, trusting you with their time, their money, their bodies, and their happiness, how can you be certain you’re acting ethically and morally? I’m obviously no prude when it comes to sex, nor am I someone shamed by marketing, yet when the lights go out at night, I still sometimes lie awake amazed at the responsibility and trust I’m given each time a student shows up to a weekend program, or a girl hops in a cab to come with me at the end of a night.
The stereotype of the apathetic pickup instructor who just “fucks bitches” and “scams fan boys” is wrong—or at least with most of the instructors I’ve met. The entire essence of teaching pickup rests on an over-developed sense of empathy. You can’t change someone’s mind until you first demonstrate you understand them. Seduction and persuasion are one in the same because they’re both an inside-out approach: you step in the prospects shoes first, and then you impose your reality.
Naturally, this breeds vocal critics of a pickup instructor’s life choices. It’s unfortunate I’ve lost some of my best childhood friends over surface misunderstandings. A pickup instructor’s message is only intended for those who need to hear it. Whether it’s a guy or girl, when a pickup instructor is working with a client or picking up a girl, the message will offend anyone who’s closed off. (And that’s we have haters and still get rejected by women.)
And these are the people that weigh on our conscious at night, when the lights go out. These are the people who make us consider whether we’re living ethically and morally and not using our super pickup powers for evil. Because, let’s face it: we’re not out there curing cancer or rescuing kittens—we’re teaching dudes how to pickup chicks at bars and nightclubs.
Ultimately though, I believe any worthy pickup instructor perseveres through the hate, and the critics, and the lost friends, and the pissed off girls for one reason: we understand loneliness. Just as we can peer deeply into people, we can peer deeply into this one horrible, monstrous feeling. Some us know it because we lived through it, others because it destroyed someone we cared about.
Regardless, we believe no one deserves to sit home alone, with no one to kiss, and no one to cuddle with at night, and no one to say “god-bless-you” after you sneeze. To me, when I think of people living like this, I actually feel disgust. No should have to feel as if there’s no hope, no love, no one out there for them.
Reminding myself that I’m trying to eradicate that one, singular feeling lets me sleep at night. It’s why I can ignore the hate from the people who don’t understand the private motivation that drives me. While my public life may seem fun, whimsical, and vacuous, there’s a thread of order under the debauchery. It’s my private war with something I wish didn’t exist in the world.
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About Rob J. Rob J. is a writer and dating instructor in New York City. Themes that resonate in both his teaching and writing are masculinity, genuineness, rational self-interest, and general awesomeness.