At the end of my review, I issued a

At the end of my review, I issued a call for wings in Los Angeles, asking
only that they be somewhat confident, intelligent, and socially comfortable.
I knew that in order to become a pickup artist myself, I would somehow
have to internalize everything I had seen Mystery do. This would happen
only through practice—through hitting the bars and clubs every night until
I became a natural like Dustin, or even an unnatural like Mystery.
The day my report on the workshop hit the Internet, I received an
e-mail from someone in Encino nicknamed Grimble, who identified himself
as a Ross Jeffries student. He wanted to "sarge" with me, as he put it.
Sarging is pickup artist jargon for going out to meet women; the term evidently
has its origin in the name of one of Ross Jeffries's cats, Sargy.
An hour after I sent him my phone number, Grimble called. More than
Mystery, it was Grimble who would initiate me into what could only be described
as a secret society.
"Hey, man," he said, in a conspiratorial hiss. "So what do you think of
Mystery's game?"
I gave him my assessment.
"Wow, I like it," he said. "But you have to hang out with Twotimer and
me some time. We've been sarging with Ross Jeffries a lot."
"Really? I'd love to meet him."
"Listen. Can you keep a secret?"
"Sure."
"How much technology do you use in your sarges?"
"Technology?"
"You know, how much is technique and how much is just talking?"
"I guess fifty-fifty," I said.
"I'm up to 90 percent."
"What?"
"Yeah, I use a canned opener, then I elicit her values and find out her
trance words. And then I go into one of the secret patterns. Do you know
the October Man sequence?"
"Never heard of it, unless Arnold Schwarzenegger was in it."
"Oh, man. I had a girl over here last week, and I gave her a whole new
identity. I did a sexual value elicitation, and then changed her whole timeline
and internal reality. Then I brushed my finger along her face, telling her
to notice"—and here he switched to a slow, hypnotic voice—"how wherever I
touch ... it leaves a trail of energy moving through you ... and wherever you can feel this energy spreading ... the deeper you want to allow yourself.
.. to feel these sensations ... becoming even more ... intense."
"And then what?"
"I brushed my finger along her lips, and she started sucking it," he exclaimed
triumphantly. "Full-close!"
"Wow," I said.
I had no idea what he was talking about. But I wanted this technology.
I thought back to all the times I'd taken women to my house, sat on the bed
next to them, leaned in for the kiss, and been deflected with the "let's just be
friends" speech. In fact, this rejection is such a universal experience that
Ross Jeffries invented not just an acronym for it, LJBF, but a litany of responses
as well.3
I talked to Grimble for two hours. He seemed to know everybody—
from legends like Steve P., who supposedly had a cult of women paying cash
for the privilege of sexually servicing him, to guys like Rick H., Ross's most
famous student, thanks to an incident that involved him, a hot tub, and five
women.
Grimble would make a perfect wing.