The h.wood Mystery

Obviously I'm very behind on my posting, so get ready for a slew of new stories. The first that was promised as a follow up to Leading An Organized Life is the Mystery story.

For those of you who don't know the joy that is Mystery or the bible of The Game, here's the quick catch up...

THE GAME is a non-fictional book written by investigative reporter Neil Strauss as a chronicle of his journey from "average frustrated chump" to "master pickup artist" using techniques devised by a self-help network of men developing the art of seduction with women.

In the book, he adopts the pseudonym Style and details encounters with women as he studies with "experts" at seducing women. The book's publication began an explosion of pick-up artist jargon^{[citation needed]} and reveals inside events in the rapidly-growing Mystery Method company (now called Love Systems) of 2004.

I have been obsessed with this book ever since I realized it was the origin of so many Saddle Ranch guys telling me I smiled like Paris Hilton (I know, right, WTF?) While I realize that running Game isn't necessarily a good thing, I can appreciate the confidence building aspects of the principles outlined in the book. Really? Peacocking, just a form of learning to be proud of who you are no matter how ridiculously you are dressed. Because a guy who can pick up a girl wearing a duster length fur coat, can easily talk to a hot chick in the bar when he's actually dressed normally.

So anyway, it's Saturday night and we hit the club for a night of debauchery. (h.wood, my new love.) After wandering around & checking out the sights, we head upstairs to the back bar... where there is a flurry of activity going on, a bunch of guys dressed in ridiculous outfits, and snippets of conversation "You want to know how I know you two are best friends?" I knew within moments, there was a Game Seminar being run & I was eager to see the suckers who'd drop 1-2k on a night out with the boys.

I wasn't disappointed, but as the area came into focus, we could pinpoint some of the biggies. Mystery for one, wearing a floor length fur, was chilling surrounded by his entourage in a corner overseeing the action. Savoy, (the man in the kilt with nada underneath) was stimulating conversation and helping the trainees open sets. When asked if he was going comando, his response "Do Bears shit in the woods?" Matador was also hanging around, in his leather vest and chaps, and the little sidekick guy who has a name, but for the life of me I can't remember, so we'll call him Sam.

There were also tons of boys running around, opening sets with clever one-liners, albeit plagiarized from Love Solutions, protectively holding onto girls hands, and getting them to sit in their lap, *cough Bama cough,* and circulating, bringing their catches back to the Masters to show their progress for the night.

My favorite perhaps was the very drunk guy wearing an arm brace, and had a sock stuffed down his pants. Why do I know that you ask? Because he chose to grind up on me slowly, and I can tell you, it was not shaped properly. Very round, and sockish.

So after a very enjoyable evening, I of course head home to investigate, see how much these suckers paid for a night out on the town. $4,500 a person, for a weekend Playboy Mansion seminar. SERIOUSLY? I'm in the wrong business.