The Mystery of Mystery

Last night, I watched The Pick-Up Artist. For those of you who are unaware, The Pick-up Artist revolves around a group of eight men. These men want to be lotharios (read: players, macks), but lack the requisite skill to do so. This lack of skill was shown in absolutely brutal, and stereotypically VH1, fashion through a montage of the eight men going into the bar and failing tragically in picking up women. The eight men will be trained by a series of three men who are considered master pick-up artists. Their names are Mystery, Matador, and J-Dog. They exude a complete confidence upon first appearances. This fact is fine because this is exactly what the eight men lack. The neophytes are unsteady and fail to realize that women are people just like men. Talking to them about something that interests them is usually a good start. Also, you having half a mind also helps in attracting women. Bringing up inappropriate discussions such as "how did you do in [Hurricane] Katrina" is also not an appropriate pick-up topic.

Unfortunately, Mystery, Matador, and J-Dog didn't really inspire me to want to go out to the club and pick up chicks in my iciest pair of busted chucks and neatly pressed pair of cut-off Dickies. These three guys were definitely good, but they were sleazy. They weren't trying to find someone they would see again; they were finding someone they would kick out in the morning. This is cool and all, but the bars are not really my scene. Watching them do it was really kind of gross, but I sort of expected that. Even though these guys were chauvinist and dressed poorly, I have to say that it was really impressive to watch these guys go out and get girls to do everything for them. I mean, one of the guys had black hair paint, and I think that two of them had soul patches. Clearly, guys who would have women falling all over them.

The sad part is that I would contemplate watching this show all the way through. I, most likely, won't, but I would be one of those cats who would watch a marathon of the show if the timing was right (read: there isn't a marathon on Bravo, or I have something much better to do). It was entertaining, but it was also sad to watch the young men crash and burn. Actually, unless you talk to me about it, this is probably the last time I will admit to actually watching this show.