A Thousand Tiny Failures : Memoirs Of A Pickup Artist - Plot & Excerpts
It was another Montreal rooftop party inhabited by hipster kids; comparing tattoos, throwing up, looking cool for the girls. She was wearing a trashy looking leopard skin skirt, but it looked purposely trashy, like a funny fake tattoo. Her hair was dyed red and she had sleepy, stoner eyes—just like me. Or maybe she was stoned. I don’t doubt it. Her mouth had a perfect little heart shape at the top and her skin was pale and lightly freckled. I had a boner. Ok man, I’ll stay up late, for you. The things I do for you. I devised my strategy, Sun Tzu would be proud: Approach from above and dominate. Since they were sitting, my natural elevation would support my appearance as a superior alpha man. Yeah, that’s what I told myself. Whatever works. What to say? Associate… roof top, sitting… avoid cliché. “You guys are going to have dirty butts. We’re not goddamn apes. Be proud,” I said. They all blinked. “They blew it up! The idiots!” They all blinked again, but she laughed.
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