And this is what sets The Art of Charm apart within the seduction industry. At their seminars, the coaches focus not on seduction, but on challenging students' negative self-perceptions, teaching them that life is not so scary, that girls are not so scary, that everything will be much easier if they can get over their own self-imposed limitations.
"Other companies," Jordan tells me, "teach guys how to run routines, to go up to girls and make up lies about themselves to start a conversation, and then get the girls into bed. That's putting a band-aid on a bullet hole. If you just learn seduction, you can't ever have a real relationship. You've still got all these other problems. At our seminars, we make the guys do the things that scare them most. I'll take a guy to a bar and make him talk to the cutest girl in the room or the scariest-looking dude. I don't let him plan out what he's going to say. I force him into these scary situations. And then I give him feedback. If a guy's super-shy, I'll make him go out to a bar wearing a kangaroo suit. Then he's the center of attention, which is what he's most afraid of."
"Everyone has all this stuff they want to do," Race says. "A guy will tell me, 'I want to go to Thailand,' and I'll ask him, 'When? How much is a plane ticket?' and he'll have no idea. So I'll tell him, 'Then you don't really want to go to Thailand.'
"Do you know why you play with your hair?"
If he really wants to go, he needs to work out the logistics. If you really want something, nothing should stand in your way."
The beautiful girl has returned from the bathroom and is watching Race, looking starry-eyed and utterly seduced. I start getting ready to leave.
"Do you know why you play with your hair?" Race asks me as I'm sliding out of the booth.
I lower my hands to my sides. "It's a grooming thing," I say vaguely.
"No," he says, "you do it because it makes you more comfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable," I say, and Race laughs out loud.
Like many people, I have always fancied myself perceptive, have always bragged, "I'm such a good listener! Nothing gets by me!" But now I'm starting to think that plenty gets by me. The more I watch Race watch me, the more sure I am that he can read me fluently, and the more I want him to tell me about myself. When he mentions casually, matter-of-factly, that I'm attracted to Jordan, I panic, wondering if I accidentally admitted that aloud. (I didn't.) When he points out that my eye contact improves when I feel more at ease, and that I frequently look downward to access my emotions, it's like he's showing me X-rays of my thoughts.
But simultaneously, I'm starting to think there's a down side to cracking the mystery of social dynamics, to reading body language as easily as other people read the word "EXIT," glowing red in the dark of a public building. You watch someone talk and know when she's lying; you watch someone move and know what she's thinking. If you have a Rosetta Stone for every interaction, you can never again think, This is magical, or, I'm falling so hard, or, Only you can make me feel this way. And without those sensations, without the willingness to relinquish control, without the belief (no matter how juvenile) that chemistry is partly magic, how can you ever fall in love? How can you lose yourself in a moment?
Race demurs: "I can lose myself. It's not like I can't enjoy the moment just because I understand it."
But how? "Think about it like this," Race says. "A flower is beautiful. Right? If you're a botanist, you know everything about the flower. But does that mean you lose the flower? Do you miss the flower as it was before you knew everything about it? No. You enjoy it more. You have a deeper appreciation."
Before I leave, I ask Race one more question, my hands shoved into my pockets so they don't make their way to my hair. "Why haven't you found her yet?"
For the first time since I've met him, Race hesitates for a second. "Maybe I'm not ready," he laughs. "But every day I'm on the path," he says. "I'm getting closer. It's about the journey, not the destination. You have to be able to enjoy the journey." He says it so earnestly, it doesn't even sound corny. And somehow I don't find myself laughing. n°
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Diana Spechler is the author of the novel Who By Fire. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Esquire, Glimmer Train Stories, and elsewhere. She lives in New York City, where she is at work on her second novel. Learn more at www.dianaspechler.com
