Helping an Asian Bro Pick Up on the Plane

As I become more infamous, I run into people who recognize me in the oddest of places. Now, I've always been a deeply private person. I never actually set out to BE a professional PUA. The role was thrust upon me due to circumstance which is, I believe, something that has always set me apart from my peers. I'm a horrible businessman, but I'm a damn good PUA instructor.

I didn't set out to make money. Or be famous. I just wanted to be more successful with women and somewhere along the way, I found myself leading something that I still don't have the words for. I started off as professional PUA more motivated with helping my fellow Asian bros than I was with anything else.

Don't get me wrong here, it's still a business no matter what, but out of three reasons why PUAs go pro (women, money, and helping), I believe helping my bros comes out on top.

So being recognized as some pseudo-celebrity definitely takes some getting used to. Quite frankly, it's not something I'm sure I'll get used to. The idea of creating a CULT OF PERSONALITY (as most Pick Up companies and methods do) makes my skin crawl. I just teach a system of "Plug and Play" and it's up to you to make the best self that you can.

But I digress...

Take for example a few weeks ago when I was teaching in Australia. While coming home late at night, I was recognized by an Asian bro at 2am in the morning. Seriously, on the other side of the world, someone saw walk down the street and ran over to talk to me in the lobby. Weird, but cool. We talked and I gave him my Aussie number.

Fast forward to this Thursday when I'm on the plane to Dallas. I'm tired and I just want to catch some Z's. A tall Asian man sits next to me and I think nothing of it. I fall asleep and half way through, I wake up parched. I call for the stewardess and the bro, let's call him B-Dog, is looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

As I get my drink, he asks me if he knows me from somewhere. I reply simply that I might have had my picture taken in some newspapers. And then he asks me the QUESTION. You know, THAT question, "Are you part of the Community?"

"Yep, my name's JT."

"Holy shit, aren't you the Asian Playboy?" he says.

I smile and nod. "Just call me JT. All my friends do."

So we talk and he asks me all types of questions. The flights several hours so I'm more than happy to answer them. One of his questions, as is many Asian American brothers also ask, is why does it feel so different living in America and dating versus living in Asia and dating?

As luck would have it, that day I had been furiously scribbling down my thoughts and notes and I actually had two pages that I've been researching for a long ass post entitled "The Social Isolation of Asian American Men" and "The Asian Edge." I show him my notes and we talk for a good hour.

We have a layover and we move to the front of the plane.

B-Dog is a normal, red blooded Asian American male. He's educated, driven, but doesn't have a great deal of social experience or dating. So I freely answer his questions about conversation, confidence, and what not.

It's nice to chit chat over a long, boring flight.

We talk about his life, his goals of being an entrepreneur, and so forth. As luck would have it, next to us was a MidWestern blond cutie playing with a camera the size of her head.

I nudge him, nodding to the girl, and he opens her. Turns out that both of them are amateur photographers. They talk and flirt. She positions herself facing B-Dog as much as possible.

During the beverage break, B-Dog turns to me and says, "Damn, I"m out of material. What else do I say? I've got nothing on the photo front any more."

"Well," I reply slowly, "Weren't you just telling me you wanted to start your own business? And that so was she? Talk about that."

"Seriously? Isn't that, like normal?"

"It's cool to be normal, just don't be boring. You're an interesting guy so just relate to her on a personal basis."

It's 30 minutes until touchdown. They're talking. She goes to the restroom.

"Number close, bro," I say.

"Dude, she's got a HUGE wedding ring!" he says disappointedly.

I shrug, "Well that's too bad. It's up to you if you want to pursue that." I don't make moral judgements, I let each individual man decide how he wants to carry himself.

So we talk some more about his sticking points. The blond comes back and that's when I notice that it's NOT a wedding ring she has on, but a CLASS RING. I make fun of it and she, abashedly, takes it off and puts it on the other hand.

"Number close!" I whisper.

It his first time, I can tell. He's nervous.

"I don't have a pen!"

You know that scene where Will Smith is hiding behind the door? And the guy is standing there stupidly without a clue in the world as the girl stands there? And the pen comes out of nowhere?


"Bro, I got you covered!" The pen comes out of my pocket. This is my job. This is what I do. I ENABLE my Asian brothers to have success. The rest, is up to them.

He fumbles for a bit. Nervous.

I can remember the first time I number closed. If ineptitude was a skill, I had it on lock down. I look out of the corner of my eye as he gets her attention.

She smiles.

He exchanges numbers with her. His first ever number close. On a plane. With a blond.

I'm not saying that I changed his life or that there weren't other non-altruistic reasons and I'm definitely not a saint, but quite frankly, sometimes, my job just rocks.

Happy holidays!

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