Ladies, I am sending out an official warning. All of us are in serious trouble. A man, no maybe a God, has cracked our code. He has studied and learned all of our secrets and now we are all him and his students’ puppets. Dangling in the air literally like pieces of meat. Just waiting for our number to be called. And by called I mean banged. I’m talking of course about “Mystery” from the reality show The Pick Up Artist. The show that will no doubt be the end of women’s freedom to choose a mate as we know it. Because our tiny brain capacity could never resist the advances of any man who knows the secret of ‘The Game’.

I am, of course, being sarcastic. However it is very hard to be this sarcastic when I keep throwing up in my mouth thinking about the awkward hell that I witnessed today. If you haven’t gotten to experience this train wreck let me fill you in.

The man who calls himself Mystery, who looks like he’s been shopping at the same douche bag uniform store that Chris Angel frequents,  believes he has cracked the code to pick up any girl. Simply by controlling our simple minds with basic psychology and body language.

Let me tell you something right now “playa’, if your wardrobe consists of any of the following: goggles, pirate shirts or any of Pamela Anderson’s hats circa 1995, then trust that you and your probably pierced penis are not getting anywhere near my lady bits. I don’t care how good your ‘Gambit’ is. (Gambit= conversation starter.)

Mystery has recruited a few friends to work along side him. Including Matador, a strapping, Latin, pile of a man. And Tara, a horribly LA stricken girl who has definitely been ‘mystery-ed’ once or twice if you know what I mean. Together they teach tragically shy 20 something virgins the detailed art of the ‘pick-up’.

In every episode the boys have a new challenge taking place in some awful night club full of part-time secretaries and cosmetologists. The real cream of the crop.

The challenge this week: work with one of the other contestants as his wingman, demonstrate good wingman behavior and close the deal with a hot steamy makeout.

Note: making out in bars is disgusting. Not saying I haven’t done it. Just saying it’s disgusting.

Two by two the boys paraded through the club while mystery and co. looked on via hidden cameras. I won’t give you too many details but one of my favorite parts was when one of these poor schmucks actually referred to himself and his partner as the Karl Riener and Mel Brooks of picking up. Wow. The guys remembered what they had been taught.

DHV= demonstrate higher value. IOI= indicator of interest. And surprisingly most of them accomplished the goal.

In the end Rian was asked to leave when Mystery felt he did not take enough advantage of the two girls giving him attention at the club. The rest advanced and were awarded blue medallions which represented transformation and clarity. These medallions are kind of like asshole boy scout patches.

Gentleman, may I have your attention. DO NOT FOLLOW THESE RULES. If you’re already a douche bag I can’t help you but if you’re just a really shy, nice guy that happens to be really nervous around the fairer sex then pay attention. Be yourself! We’re not stupid, we don’t like pick-up lines and the girls that do are morons. If you’re just out for some ass please put on your best affliction shirt, cowboy hat, way too strong cologne and tune into the pick-up artist because this show is for you.

If you aren’t in it to just be humored by some bitchy girls that are only talking to you because their drinks are getting paid for then take my advice. Don’t get me wrong, I feel for those guys out there who are truly petrified of girls. I understand shy. I wore a backbrace and head gear in high school for God’s sake! But this shit is not the answer.

Mystery, other than your embarrassing clothes, utterly ridiculous teachings and horrible (yet addicting) show, you seem like you might care. Care about helping these socially awkward individuals. And that’s great. But it’s getting really hard for my friends and I to enjoy a drink out without being harassed by one of your douche bag students. Stop ruining my night.