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I have mixed feelings about this book. Some of it was frankly quite repulsive and depressing, but I also wondered whether it was the book or the truth of human nature that I was more repulsed by. In any case, I think there’s a lot that guys (and girls) can learn from this book. Despite my belief in love and romance, life has taught me that being a nice guy simply isn’t enough to get someone you like to like you back. If you aren’t a natural with women, then you can and should learn how to initiate conversations, be confident etc. As the book emphasises time and again, you also need to treat your failures as something to learn from, and not something to be afraid of. However, you can learn to put your best self forward and still treat women with respect! I liked the way the book was laid out - it kept my interest throughout without becoming too repetitive.

hands down the most bizzarely entertaining book I have read this year...

Ugh. I couldn't resist reading this and it was even worse than I thought it would be. It was interesting to read about this sort of lifestyle and even more so to hear lots of apparently foolproof "tips and tricks" but I'm sure I can't be the only reader who found a lot of The Game completely unbelievable. Some of the lines and tricks just seemed ridiculous and it was almost impossible to believe that all these former average guys were suddenly bringing home supermodels on the basis of these "rules".

The unbelievable just becomes depressing when many of the fledgling and veteran pick up artists become all empty and disillusioned when their lives have been reduced to attempting to pull and judging themselves purely on who they sleep with. Zzzzzz. I'm sure if any of them had attempted the odd genuine conversation with an average person they might have realised everyone gets nervous meeting and approaching new people and you don't have to turn yourself into a manipulative superficial imitation of a person and then spend all your time trying to keep up the pretence until you run out of material and the real you comes out. Gaaah.

Any men reading this book for tips....no.....please...just don't. Seriously. Get some help with your confidence, some flirting tips, some new clothes, a haircut, but if you find yourself memorising "routines" and saying something disparaging to a girl to lower her self esteem so it's easier for you to date her, you've officially become a dickhead. And you're probably lovely really, so just don't!

At the beginning of the book it might seem that the author is bragging about the lifestyle of a pickup artist. But as you move forward through the book you understand why he was trying to do that in the beginning. To all the women who want to read this, I would say, please have patience.

Neil Strauss talks about this whole topic in layers. Like an onion, you peel away at pages and you slowly get to know the nuance of it all. It was a great read, looking at the perspectives of different people about the same subject.
funny informative reflective medium-paced

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Hilarious

This book is so good and funny, I was not expecting it to be so funny. This book has probably been on top ten books every guy should read list of every blogger and youtuber. I understand why, many guys would love to live the lifestyle that is described throughout this book. The reality is that we need relationships we’re socials being animal and we need to connect with people. So I don’t entirely agree with this book 100 percent.

“You’re boring. You’re a non-entity. Look at you, what do you have to offer? You don’t know magic. You haven’t been skydiving. You don’t even register on people’s radars. And if you hang around long enough for them to realise you’re there, you only repulse them. That’s why I’m giving the lessons and you’re probably spending your Saturday nights watching porn, getting your sexual gratification via a middle man. That’s why I’m balls deep in pussy and you’re only EYE balls deep. Now if you want to go home to your diary and lament over that sweet-voiced girl from the book store you spoke to one time, by all means do so. But if you want to learn how to get a woman to pay to suck your dick, then do everything I say and for the love of Christ, don’t back talk.”

He stared at me, mouth open.

“Good,” I muttered, “now take this.” I produced an envelope from my jacket.

He took it and opened it up. “What is it?”

“Take a look,” I said, as he flipped through its contents. It was various photos in which I had photoshopped my new recruit’s face. He stopped at one. It was a sun-tinted image of Dealey Plaza.

“These are obviously fake,” he said, “I wasn’t even alive during the Kennedy assassination.” I winced. With each objection I could feel his chances at getting laid diminishing. This was the eternal virgin I warn people about on the message boards. A walking cautionary tale. If he keeps this up people will mistake his ineptitude for hyperbole because no one could be that much of a jackass. I tried to hide my disappointment and continued.

“Not if you’re immortal, which is what you’re going to tell those women.”

“What?”

“Yeah, immortal. Tell them you’re the Count St. Germain. Talk about Julius Caesar like you were best buds. They’ll be hanging on to every word. It’s the perfect opener.”

“Look, this is too ridiculous. There’s no way anyone will think I’m sane, let alone believe me.”

I sneered. This chump was questioning me again. As if all my conquests didn’t speak to the success of my tactics. Didn’t I email him the spread sheet? I have so much pussy lying around I’ve resorted to giving it away to charity, which is exactly why I’m running this workshop. And this charity case refuses to let me help him.

“Trust me,” I said, “look at this crowd. These girls are probably bored out of their minds with the men here. Their vaginas are as dry as the Sahara right now, I guarantee it. And what they need,” I paused, “is a little bit of Gatorade.”

His face turned upwards and he eyed me like I was a madman. “What? That’s disgust – “

I cut him off. “I forgot to tell you. That’s your new nickname: Gatorade.”

“Nickname?” he sputtered. “Why do I need a nickname? Is that what you guys – “

“Everyone in the community has a badass nickname. Usually we just go by screen names but yours was pretentious as shit. No one cares that you read Philip K. Dick. You need a nickname like the rest of us. There’s Rasputin; I was chowing down on some snatch with him just last week. In a hot tub, no less. Then there’s Sex Offender, he’s great.”

“Why can’t I just go by Ewan?” Poor kid. That’s exactly the type of dumb question I’d expect from a Ewan.

“Listen,” I said. “You’ve entered a secret world here and we have our rules. What you don’t understand is that 99% of the pussy is owned by 1% of the population. I am that 1%. The community is that 1%. Regular jack-offs aren’t aware of this. If they were, there’d be protests outside my house. People would take to the streets in outrage. I took enough pity on you to take you under my wing, to invite you to the message boards, to show you this world. I didn’t have to but I did. I did because you remind me of a younger me.”

“I guarantee you I d – “

“Shut up, exactly like me. An Average Frustrated Chump. You like True Detective? Well, I’m the Rust Cohle of fucking and I’m gonna ruin your day so listen up. When people talk about chemistry in relationships, they’re literally talking about chemistry. It’s all oxytocin and dopamine and serotonin and a fuck load of testosterone. There’s nothing more to it. People need to get their rocks off and an actual vagina is preferable to the post-masturbatory existential despair that I'm sure you’re all too familiar with.”

He looked offended. I think I was finally getting through to him.

“Bottom line is this: when I was your age I was playing the game like everyone else and getting nowhere. You know how many women I would drive home from work? Tons. Literally – I couldn’t even get with fat chicks. Then I finally decided to look at the answers at the back of the book and my life’s been one big, raging fuck spectacle ever since.”

He was dumbfounded. Again, he looked at me like I was insane. I was used to it. Every innovator received that look at some point in their lives. Isaac Newton probably got that look every day, and now he’s revered as one of the top alchemists that ever lived.

I thought about another genius. “You read Dostoyevsky?” I asked.

“Yeah?” he said, obviously curious as to where I was going with this.

“Me too. See, we get it. Now let's go FMAC some girls."

And after a declaration of 'Strauss be with you', I dragged my reluctant recruit into the club...

Really enjoyed the first half to two-thirds of the book where Straus is describing the 'pickup artist' world and some of the techniques he used while plying his trade. But, the last part of the book really just devolved into a soap opera (like a reality TV show!) and got rather boring.

Nonetheless - an interesting and worthwhile read.

Entertaining but ehh not the best for finding a woman of quality, just for finding bottle rats and what not. You should just be genuine and yourself. Don't manufacture some personaity that isnt truly you, otherwise the lady will find out very soon.

Alternate title could've been 'How to not be a normal, decent person"