Confessions of a PUA: The WAG

Part 2 of our true confessions from an Irish Pick UP Artist...

Typical November night in Dublin last year, cold with a little bit of snow falling. Out with a couple of female friends. Both of them are hot and I have gone there before but somehow they have survived through the bullshit and we're still friends. Girls that get 'it' are a precious commodity and they are the best wingmen you could ever ask for. We head up to a club that won't be named for obvious reasons. Queue is going halfway down the road so we are a little like 'fuck this.'

Ex-promo girl who is now posing as a hostess with the guest list is standing outside the VIP. This is an easy enough situation to deal with if you have some balls. I get the two girls to link my arms and fawn over me a little bit. As I walk up I give the bouncer on the main door a shout out. 'Hey man/bro' will usually suffice. If you can deliver this with enough confidence, he will usually acknowledge and then your set. We walk up to her and say 'Hey babe, its been a while... Plus two tonight' and drop that I work as a DJ in a radio station without mentioning my name. People never know what DJs look like as a rule and are generally embarrassed when they can't remember someone they have met before. So rather than risk a potentially embarrassing situation she just pretends to tick a name off a list and waves us through.

I'm out with my friends tonight so as a rule I'm not out to pull but the VIP is a bit of a playground tonight. Everyone in here has equivalent social value. We are all supposed VIPs in here so it generally comes down to what kind of game you have. Turning around I almost fall into a group of girls and instantly cogs start turning. They start shit testing me (seeing if I'm worth talking to) straight away. I talk to them but never ask them the typical questions and always make it seem like I will have to leave soon. Two of them tell me they are sisters (shit test). I call bullshit and ask to see their hands so that I can prove they are not. Curiosity piqued they hold out their hands. I examine them thus initiating physical contact which ups the ante a little bit. Women’s responses to different levels of physical contact can let you know where you are with them but that is boring so we will continue on. I tell them how this line on their palm proves that they can't be sisters. Pure bullshit but it is the type of thing that people eat up.

Next thing my two lovely ladies appear over my shoulder. They introduce themselves, one as my girlfriend of course, just to ruin me. Part of the fun and sometimes I use it as a challenge and try and recover, but as I wasn't too pushed anyway we go back to just hanging out for a little bit. We are on the dance-floor (the worst place to pull unless your JT and even then most people will assume your gay) just doing our terrible dancer and next thing I catch a serious blonde 9 within range flanked by a tall, handsome guy. I can tell he isn't her bf by his body language towards her. He is what we like to call an AMOG (alpha male of group). He is there to keep all other men away. I thought the obvious in here was to play the gay card. I waited until they had left the dance-floor and moved in. I walked up to her and said 'your friend is hot' pointing at the guy who was quickly getting a worrying look on his face. A few more longing looks from me and he melted into the general crowd.

I turned to her and said 'Now you lost him for me, if I was really gay I would be very upset.' She laughed and I had her opened from there. I noticed that she seemed a little bit more 'energetic' than what you would usually expect. I ran a few more attraction routines all the while getting some sense of vague recognition from her. Soon the ground work was laid and she leaned in asking me if I knew anywhere a little more private. I went and slipped the toilet attendant (along with bar staff the best person to get friendly with) a few quid and he directed me up the stairs. We found a little storage closet that was unlocked and things were about to kick off from there when something clicked and I realised I had recognised her from the front of one of those glossy magazines. An interview about her family life with her footballer husband and two kids. Not my kind of scene so I made my excuses and out of there praying that nobody had seen us. I found out later that her husband was inclined to the same behaviour but still no regrets there.