Has anyone ready The Game? If you have you’ll know it’s a super entertaining read, one that also sheds light to a bunch of bizarre courting habits. It seems that when fast talking boys want to get some fast girl action, they enlist the tactics of hired gun and
MPUA (Master Pick Up Artist) Neil Strauss, author of The Game. Huh? The Game, it’s an account of the incredible adventures of an AFC (average frustrated chump) who transforms himself from a shy, awkward peanut head into the slippery, smooth talking Style – a character who through a stream of smoking shtick and ‘the neg theory’ proves irresistible to women.
Following their first glimpse of how sweet life could be with a string of foolproof seduction tactics on tap, it seems that chumps just want to have fun. Monkey see, monkey do
Ah, the long distance romance. Surely the biggest challenge on the planet. Hands up who’s had one? I have. And I’ve lived to tell the tale. In fact I never would have left my rather cushy Sydney lifestyle for grey drizzly old London if I hadn’t pursued my hormones and followed my partner to London.
So what did I give up? Well what didn’t I give up? A fabulous lifestyle, friends, a support network, a great career that was gradually growing into my own business empire. Intimate knowledge of the Australian media infrastructure and the ability to pick up the phone and earn some money via my lifetime passion of writing.
A very nice life
Flirting’s fun. And you must never try to hard. The best flirts - Renee Zelweger’s Bridget Jones - know how to be adorable instinctively. And it’s not just about sparkling looks. Confidence is sex appeal, a knowing smile, a cheeky wink and a perfectly timed brush of the hand.
Wanna be a flirting pro? Here’s how…
She’s tall, slim and stunning. And she invited my boyfriend and I to a fancy dress themed fetish ball. She was going as a zebra – which basically meant she would be naked – bar a few black stripes strategically placed over her white body paint. So, there I am. Not tall. Not slim. Not stunning. And I’m going to be wearing - get this - a shapeless lump of blue shiny fabric tied around my torso with a long mermaid’s tail and a dodgy blue wig. Mind you she had offered to measure me and make a proper mermaid's outfit but I couldn't bear the thought of her slender hands taking my humungous measurements. Just couldn't face it.
So I chickened out which gave me several weeks leading up to the event and many, many agonizing hours to obsess over how I would feel when she revealed her magnificent breasts to the world - and to my boyfriend.
You think I would have worked out for hours every day and got myself the killer outfit, but no, instead I spent every moment binge eating and conjuring up any pathetic excuse in the world not to go. But my boyfriend was having none of it