Here's the Situation (8 page)

I'm not one for using pickup lines to meet chicks. Honestly, I have so many chicks rolling up to me these days that I have to come up with lines to get them to leave me alone. But take heart. All any girl is looking for in a guy is that he's positive, charming, charismatic, confident, honest, rich, world famous, and has thunder abs.

Because life is a battle, and those battle lines are never more clearly drawn than in da club, I'm fond of comparing the tactics of my boys and me to the precision fierceness of our badass U.S. Navy SEAL teams. Though my team also rolls in with military discipline, it's nothing compared to the exacting ferocity of our brother creepers in special ops. In the spirit of their can-do attitudes, and on-the-fly decision-making skills, the term “SEAL” has evolved in clubcraft parlance into “Situation's Evolving Ad Lib.” This acronym is code for when you and your wingman need to run a game, off the cuff, in a head-to-head firefight with two chicks. Like our warrior brothers in the armed services, you must be conversationally limber; able to react and navigate the twists and turns of verbal jujitsu that will impede your progress if you remain determined to close the deal and achieve your objective. A typical SEAL conversation might run like this:

Once you've made contact, you have to identify who's a grenade and who's DTF.

When Sitch is on the road, I love to creep the local talent. A fun trip away from home can be made all the more enjoyable when I am pleasantly surprised by the sheer volume and variety of beautiful women in a given locale. Never have I been more delighted by this than when I first visited the Midwest. Throughout my appearances in Ohio, Michigan, and Minnesota I was blown away by the beauty and charm of the women I met. I remember entering a sold-out appearance at a club in Detroit where the ratio of beautiful girls to guys was at least 7 to 1. Certain cities have an energy all their own and that Detroit event was definitely unique. So many girls were screaming their lungs out and hysterical crying—it was absolutely insane! When I entered, all the women in the club were chanting, “DTF! DTF!” as a take-off on GTL. I had no idea what they were referring to and neither did the rest of my team. The club owner sensed my confusion so he yelled in my ear over the mayhem, “It stands for Down To Fuck.” I confirmed later that night that these chicks were as serious about DTF as I am about GTL.

You don't have to limit your creeping to the club. When your situation is working at a high level, you can creep just about anywhere: at the gym, at the tanning salon, while picking up your laundry, during the ride from the gym to the tanning salon, etc. The whole world gets creepy when you're doing it right.

T
he club, my friends, is a battlefield. And you should treat it as such. You need to roll in there like a special ops platoon on a mission. Your target: banging a chick. Anything that gets in the way of that mission should be dealt with swiftly and with no mercy. But it's never that easy. Because like in any war zone, you can get killed in the club. And death will usually come via grenade.

It's a rule of the universe that, more often than not, there is going to be a good-looking girl and then there's going to be the grenade. A grenade is defined as the least attractive of the pair, or group, of females you are trying to close the deal with. Invariably, the grenade will spend the night complaining, with her arms crossed, and will usually at some point try to leave the club, taking her hot friend with her and out of your target range. Grenades are not to be underestimated, because they can go off at any time, and the collateral damage can take out you and your whole team.

Typical grenade.

Nine out of ten times, the grenade is a grenade because she's ugly and fat. She's mad at you and at life because everyone is more interested in her hot friend. (On rare occasions, a cute girl can slide into grenade status because of a horribly bitchy personality, or for being obsessive and possessive about the guy she wants to be with. But possessive chicks are better described as Stage Five Clingers, which we'll get to in Chapter Eight.)

Scientific researchers at The Creeper Institute for Situationomics have recently charted the most accurate neural map ever constructed of the mind of a grenade. In the spirit of my ongoing commitment to offer all pertinent information leading to the optimum hookup, I now make that map available for the first time:

So what do you do when a grenade rolls in and threatens to detonate in the middle of your situation? Just like when a grenade rolls into a foxhole, a brave team member must pounce on it, absorbing the blast and protecting the lives of his team members. That brave soul is your wingman.

Your wingman is the most important member of your team. He can steer females your way and, most importantly, take out the grenades you will inevitably encounter. Your games should be complementary, enabling you to handle whatever females wander within your coordinates.

Of course, wingman status is a very fluid thing, and there will come times where you yourself, for the survival of the team, may find yourself taking out a grenade.

It's a common misconception that your wingman must be less attractive than yourself. Not true. The ideal wingman is a friend who is good-looking and has style, game, and a swagger all his own. Your ideal wingman can hold the line when it comes to meeting and leaving the club with women. You want a wingman who's a good-looking guy who will attract beautiful women because it increases the odds of you
both
hooking up with hot chicks. It's a game of strategy and numbers with glorious highs and spectacular lows. But that's the beauty of it. You just never know how the evening will play out. Your wingman must pull his own weight both mentally and physically. The perfect wingman is flexible and open to shifting circumstances.