Let’s start with the obvious: Sexism is horrible; lecherous dudes are creepy, and anyone who treats women as objects deserves to have his (or her) toenails plucked out with rusty pliers. So when pickup artist (PUA), overpaid lecturer in the art of seduction, and puddle of garbage juice Jeff Allen made jokes about his “rape van” and promised to help guys score threesomes, and Australia canceled his visa and, by proxy, the Australian lecture stop on his world tour, I applauded. When Asheville coffee shop owners Jared Rutledge and Jacob Owens had to shut down their business following an exposé on their disgusting List of Lays blog (veritable space trash in the constellation of the PUA online community), I cheered along with feminists everywhere. I’d never condone sleaziness or PUA culture in general, even if today’s communities are trying to rebrand the whole thing as a confidence booster for shy, lonely men But then there was Adam, a trained pickup artist whose name I’ve changed because I genuinely don’t hate the guy. Years ago, when I was interning in NYC the summer before my senior year, he, yes, picked me up at a dark Lower East Side bar, leaning over with an opening line I’ve forgotten and a confident smile I haven’t. He shot off compliments like blow-darts ("I can tell you're bright. Like, broke-1500-on-your-SAT bright."), jokingly challenged me to a mini dance-off, and then exited after 20 minutes of chatting.I was flattered, but I wasn’t hooked. He had a nerdy vibe, and shallow, 21-year-old me was still aiming squarely at the most beautiful man in any room. But he texted to set up a date. When I called to cancel, tired from a long day, he cajoled me into meeting up with him, promising to make it an easy, low-key night.I wore my glasses on our first date, that’s how uninvested I was. And over dinner, he revealed he'd trained with Mystery, the goggles-donning Yoda figure who went on to host VH1’s The Pickup Artist later that year. When Adam and Mystery went out to bars together, he relayed, people thought they were brothers. I’m a journalist, a professional curious person, so I asked him about his methodology; with impressive candor, he relayed tactics that make a good first impression, and it was immediately obvious he’d already used some on me: Approach confidently, give her a playful challenge, make an early exit to leave her wanting more.He was openly manipulating me in real time, and without any whiff of embarrassment. I should've been grossed out, but time with him was sort of addictive: Here was someone so good at reading people, so skilled at going after what he wanted, and he'd wanted me.