Hi. My name is Paul, and I have an embarrassing confession to make. I’m afraid of girls.

Geez, where do I even start. There is a fantastically tragic, sometimes hilarious back story to this, but for now I’m going to keep it short. After my divorce, I realized that it was not ME that had been victimized by a failed relationship… I ATTRACTED IT into my life. I resolved that I would do whatever soul searching, make whatever personal changes necessary, to avoid making the same mistakes twice.

I’ve done a lot of reading.
I’ve listened to TONS of seminars, interviews with “dating gurus”…. made countless rounds through some excellent personal development books…

I read “The Game” by Neil Strauss. *amazing*.
I read “I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell”, and “Assholes Finish First”, both by Tucker Max. (I have never been the same since).

I’ve read and listened to hundreds of hours of podcasts on the topic.  I have created a life style where I regularly interact with the most beautiful and desirable women in the state. In the SLC night life scene, I’m fairly well known. I regularly have people approach me that know my name, but I don’t know theirs. It’s flattering, yet frustrating.

I still have a problem.

Let’s talk about my trip to the grocery store yesterday.

[note: this is the introduction to a 30 day series of posts. Each subsequent post will be named “day 1, day 2, etc). This story will only make sense if you read them in order, after reading this post. Thanks! ]

I’m one robust shit away from being out of toilet paper, and I’m out of diet cherry coke (the main constituent of the most delicious fizzy drink on earth… diet cherry coke + a dash of meyer’s rum on ice).

And I’m out of dryer sheets.

And miniature pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.  Out of them, too.

Dear readers, there is something magical about the organic food isle at the Smith’s on 400 south in SLC. Last summer, I met a fantastically beautiful girl there (Sierra Pugmire, would you please stand up? Thanks.) I had a HUGE crush on her, and finally one day while Zak and I were on a beer run, I opened her (industry lingo for starting a conversation). It went quite well. I am sure I was blushing like a humiliated 7 year old the whole time, but we have become friends since then and I have failed (or neglected, not sure which) to put any moves on her.

I have noticed that a new girl has since replaced Sierra in the organic food isle. She is quite different from Sierra, but incredibly charming nonetheless.  (It’s worth noting that neither of these girls strike you as the type that would be working in an organic food isle).   I’m going to call this new girl Cynthia. She looks like a Cynthia to me.

No, I have not “opened” her yet. I have not said “HI” yet. I have not even worked up the nerve to pretend like I’m shopping for organic potato chips so that I can be in proximity to her. I just walk past her isle and go “woooooow…..”.

Again.

And again.

…and again.

She’s adorable, and I have not the faintest idea what I’d even try to talk to her about.  I truly go blank.  I have no problem getting up on stage with my band and doing absurd things up there in front of strangers. I have no problem wearing a short skirt and 4″ heels to fetish night at the local goth club.  I have no problem jumping into crowds of hot girls that I have never met, taking over their conversation, and directing them into a photograph at the club.  I have no problem saying inflammatory religious / political / social things on Facebook that may cost me  the friendship of people I’ve known for 20 years. I am totally comfortable telling a girl to take her clothes off in my studio and then having very frank conversations about things that typically only are shared with close friends.

I cannot talk to Cynthia.

The time has come for a structured intervention.

One of my favorite authors, Neil Strauss, wrote a seminal book called “The Game”. On the surface, it’s about one man’s journey from being totally inept with women, to becoming the world’s greatest “pick up artist”.  What this book is REALLY about, is the psychology of social interactions.  There is a division in the FBI that requires all new recruits to read THE GAME upon hiring, because Strauss does such a good job of deconstructing all of the unspoken rules and rituals that the social animal homo sapiens engages in. It helps them do their job better as agents.  I have read the book and I loved it.

I digress.  We are still at Smith’s in this story. I get my toilet paper, miniature pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, and a 12 pack of diet cherry coke. I walk past Cynthia’s isle a few times, yielding a few quiet, exasperated “wooooooow…”‘s.

I get into a debate with myself:

“Dude, you do things far more scary than this. She’s just a girl, just go say HI”.

“But THEN what? I really have no clue what to talk to her about! The only thing on my mind right now is HER, and the photo editing I’m doing tonight. I’m sure she wants to hear about neither”.

“No, every girl likes to hear about herself. Just go say “Hi. I had to introduce myself. You are beautiful, and I had to say HI”.

“Yeah, but THEN what? I’ve done that a million times, but I got nothin’ after that! NOTHING. I don’t want to be the dopey, borderline creepy mail man that has no game. She’ll remember that”.

“Fine. FINE. Be a pussy. Go get your stupid pop and cookies, go home, ALONE, and edit your stupid pictures, ALONE. Then go to bed. ALONE. Rinse, and repeat for the next 15 years.”

“But I kind of like being alo….”

“Shut the fuck up. You know better”.

As I walk out to the car, I realize that I forgot the dryer sheets.  YES! A chance at salvation. I will take the scenic route… from the organic food isle, to the dryer sheet isle, and this time I will just say HI. Nothing more. I’m just going to make eye contact, smile, and say HI.

Woooooooooow…. there she is.

SHIT.

I have thought about this far too much. She’ll smell it.  I’ll tackle this another day.

$2.94 later, I’m in my car, having made no contact at all with Cynthia.

Neil Strauss IS the man of whom the book “The Game” is written. It’s autobiographical. Neil was that guy. He is one of the most prominent journalists for Rolling Stone, New York Times, and many other top tier publications.  He had a career as a hugely successful (still is) journalist. Many of his friends were the biggest stars in the world. He would be back stage at a Motley Crue concert, hanging with the band, and yet be unable to start a conversation with a girl.  Though our playing fields are vastly different in size, our problems are the same.

Strauss wrote a book called “Rules Of The Game: The Stylelife Challenge”. Rules Of The Game, by Neil StraussBasically, it’s a work book.  The book’s subtitle says it all:  “Master the art of attraction in 30 days”.  Every day, there is an assigned reading and a “mission” to carry out.  Each reading is designed to help you probe deep within yourself and sort out the demons that are keeping you from being better with women. Each day’s mission is designed to be a “baby step” toward having confident, awesome interactions with women that result in dates.

Look, I know what you are thinking. This sounds silly. This sounds stupid.  This sounds totally unnecessary. I know some of you have heard some of my stories. YES, I’ve had some fun… sometimes awesome things happen to me. I’ve had some “success” with women. I’m very proud of the women I’ve dated. They are all beautiful, amazing girls.

But I swear to God…. until I can get this Cynthia thing handled, I will not be able to sleep peacefully at night.

SO… I will be documenting each step of this process here in my blog. Is this a good idea? I have no idea. My spidey sense tells me that perhaps in 10 years, we’ll all be able to laugh about it…. so, I’m going to go ahead and bring you, my reader, along with me on this journey to the top of what we shall call Mt. Cynthia.  Neil Strauss will be our sherpa.

Look for posts named “Day 1” , “Day 2”, etc.

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