The Pick-Up Artist 2: Dork Danger

Peacocking. Negs. DHVs. IOIs. These are just a few of the buzzwords bandied about on VH1's The Pick-Up Artist 2.

On November 30, the surprisingly likable (and even more surprisingly attractive) Pied Piper of Pussy, Mystery, plucked this season's winner from a handful of shrinking guy-lets. But Mystery may be doing much more than play cupid for the stammer set--he may be fucking with the future of the whole human race.

See, by teaching his secrets to dorks whose sexual advances would otherwise be confined to the pixel pastures of The Sims Online (or some other non-reality in which palm sweat, ear hair and bed-wetting are sins indeterminable), one might argue that Mystery is upsetting the balance of sexual power by which humans have propagated for millenia.

Take Greg, for example: the flush-cheeked, baby-faced second runner-up whose tremulous George McFly sotto voce managed to sound at once like a whisper and a scream. (As in: "Hey you -- get your damn hands off her.") This guy should be getting about as much ass as an ice skating rink during a Scott Hamilton performance in the early '80s (and the same quality); instead, we see him kissing girls -- on the LIPS! -- in bars throughout the Phoenix area, where the show was shot. (NB: Phoenix is also the home of ASU, a school so famous for indiscriminate promiscuity that one of its dorms, Manzanita, is commonly known as "the 15 Floors of Whores." Which is to say that the standards for pick-up artistry in Phoenix aren't exactly rainbow high.) After Mystery's mental ministrations, Greg may be able to reach second base (hand up shirt, not hand down pants) by age 35 -- an estimated 7-year bump up in the ranks of the sexually delayed.

Then there's runner-up Matt: he of the decent face and self-proclaimed "gift for story telling" (but not for pectoral muscles or modesty). Unfortunately, Matt's penchant for pontificating to would-be targets brought him more blue balls than booty calls. Indeed, if there is anything to be learned from Matt's field errors, it's that a pick-up artist must know when to shut his proverbial pie-hole and pull the tongue trigger. Although this lesson eluded White Carlton Banks to some extent, he still sucked the face of at least three Manzanita residents--which is three more faces than he would have sucked two months ago.

Which leaves the winner of PUA2: sweet, skinny Simeon with his cowboy hat and Freddie Mercury charm.

All shit-talk aside, Simeon seems a sweet lad--no doubt a result of 25 years spent cultivating his personality and frenching his pillow. While we may not be convinced that he actually wants to snog the targets he so deftly renders supine, $50,000 in prize money and the chance to stare at Mystery's lip piercing on a long-term basis may have been motivation enough.

We hope Simeon won't waste too much time pretending each tow-headed target is Orlando Bloom (as Legolas) before he finally goes in for the real deal. In the meantime, we congratulate him for his pick-up artistry and wish him the best of luck at The Abbey on many Saturday nights to come.