For my Readers
It’s not 1855 (or even 1955) anymore, so most of us understand that a woman making the first move isn’t a reason to gather a posse and start a witch-hunt. A hot girl hits on you at a bar? Great. She strolls up to you at a show and coolly asks for your number? Even better. But what if she’s a full-on 2013 Don Juan? What if she’s memorized the rules of Neil Strauss’The Game, too, and can play you like a Russian chess champ?