Love is a Battlefield

I seem to have a knack for picking-up men in bars. When I first started practicing this skill in college I was quite impressed with myself. The more I flirted, the more I realized that picking up men for sex was about as challenging as bumper bowling. It was at this point that I stopped feeling the need to brag.

Several of my trusted male friends and clients suggested that I pick-up my own copy of Neil Strauss’s The Game. After a lukewarm session with a new gentleman, I threw on a dress and decided to take action. Strolling into my local Barnes&Nobel on a Tuesday evening I was surprised at how many others were in the mood to do a little book shopping of their own. Pushing my way through the sea of children and 30 somethings in suits, I was still unable to find a section that looked remotely useful for the 20-something player like myself.

After being trampled on my way over to the fiction essays, where I had planned to escape the chaos, the intercom announced that a book-signing was taking place upstairs. The sea of stunning women and serious looking 30 something men in suits suddenly made their way up the escalators as I spied a banner promoting the appearance of the author of Love Survivor.* I thought to myself that it must be one hell of an exciting love story to bring out the sexiest bibliophiles in all of Austin.