Angry Texts From the 'Rape Van' Pick-Up Artist

After we told you all about prominent pick-up artist Jeff “Jeffy” Allen and his prized “rape van,” we received dozens of comments and emails from women who were also initially intrigued by Allen’s colorful vehicle and offbeat sense of humor. All of them eventually realized that Allen wasn’t a slightly cocky yet well-meaning dude but actually an aggressive misogynist dickwad who waves his junk in women’s faces after they’ve made it clear they’re not interested and lobbies racial slurs at those who decline to fuck him. Here are their stories.

Almost all of the anecdotes we heard about Allen involve the same exact details, sometimes to a ridiculously hilarious point — he apparently takes literally every woman he meets online to Cha Cha Cha, so watch out for a bro with a mullet wearing a deep V-neck and rhinestone “$” pendant next time you’re in the area — but mostly to a disturbing degree. Two women told us via email that Allen got inappropriately, aggressively physical and lashed out at them after they rejected his advances.

Below is part of Jolene Parton’s story. You can read the full recap on her blog, along with screencaps of their texts. (We’ve included a few.)

Being an adventurous and somewhat awkward internet dater in the SF Bay Area, it turns out that I went on a date with this fine specimen of manhood in December. And yes, it was all that you would expect and more. While leaving the house, I told my roommate that it was either going to be the best date ever, or the worst experience of my single life. It turned out to be both, but also an excellent insight into the psyche of the so-called pickup artist (PUA, in their terminology).

…

He’d messaged me on OkCupid a week or so before, and we’d been carrying on a very tongue-in-cheek text exchange. He’d texted me video from Vegas of bros dancing at a Deadmau5 show, and I’d made jokes about time travel, his awful outfits, and bacon bikinis. [Ed. note: You may recall from our first article on Allen that he used that “wear something hot so we match” line on another woman back in 2011. Smooth!] From the tone of our conversation, I knew that I would at least come out of the evening with an excellent story. Finally, the fateful evening arrived. Stuck in traffic, I let him know I would be late, and the warning signs started coming fast and thick. 15 minutes after the scheduled beginning, he was already clearly drinking heavily, and I hadn’t even parked.

I walked into Cha Cha Cha, and sure enough, he’d finished nearly an entire pitcher of sangria. He was also sporting a deep V-neck, a rhinestone “$” pendant, and a slight suggestion of a mullet. Let the games begin, I thought, and I took a seat at the next barstool.

He introduced himself as Jeffy, a writer. I pried a little bit, and he admitted that he also gave seminars to men on how to date women. “Oh, so you’re one of those pickup artists,” I replied, and he confirmed my suspicions. I immediately, without much tact, told him what I thought of his career, and I could see the color start to drain from the broken capillaries in his cheeks. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting a hooker [Parton is a sex worker] to know big words like “misogyny” and “problematic gamification of human interaction”.

…

Instead of just walking out and leaving him to his wine, I decided to milk the situation a bit, using it as a case study in asshattery. I ordered us some tapas, and went out for a cigarette. He followed me outside, and in between bragging about his many cars (including the now-infamous van), begged drags of my Parliament and started to awkwardly invade my personal space. Uh oh, I thought, and headed back inside. We sat back down, and he started to “open up” about his life, trying to put me off my guard by making jokes about his stature (I have a good 5 inches and 40 pounds on him), his lack of emotional maturity, and his crippling loneliness. So now, I figured, he was going for the pity lay. Suddenly, with absolutely no warning, he reached out and started grabbing at my waist, and roughly tickling my ear. I grabbed his wrist, stared him down, and firmly declared that he was invading my personal space, and had absolutely no right or permission to do so. He looked sheepish and confused, and focused on his now-empty glass of sangria.

A few silent moments went by, and then he announced, “Well, at least you got a free dinner out of it.”

“Yes, that’s true,” I said, reveling in his defeat. He glared at me, growling “I think you should go now.” And I did. I grabbed my jacket, spun off my stool, and fairly strutted out the door.

After unlocking my car and getting inside, I heard my phone vibrate. I pulled it out, and to my surprise, I already had 3 texts waiting, and more were appearing by the second. “Kill yourself nigger.” “You’re pathetic.” “The cognitive dissonance must be killing you,” (absolutely no idea how he’s interpreting this phrase). “The funny thing is, we’re actually perfect for each other,” and a final “You’re pathetic.” Wow.

Here’s a similar story from Crystal:

I am ashamed to say I completely fell for all the tricks…in the beginning at least. So here it goes – Captin_derp also messaged me on OKcupid, and I just like all these poor girls who have recently stepped up, fell for all his tricks right off the bat. We met at Cha Cha Cha (this must be his go to spot) for tapas and sangria. When I walked in he was wearing a t-shirt with a rooster on it that said “year of the cock” and a red leather jacket, first red flag, but I went along with the date as planned. We hung out for a hot minute, he too told me he was an author and that the book that made him “successful” was just about living it up in his 20’s and his broken heart. Okay, whatever..keep going. It wasn’t until the following day when I Googled this dirt bag that I found his book “Get Laid or Die Trying” – barf.

The date went on and on and he was very forward and very handsy, but you know, I have been living in this city for 8 years now and have found that all the guys I have dated to be major pussies in the making moves department so since it was so off my spectrum of reality, I let it happen. We made out at the bar and continued our conversation. After the date I was stupid enough to have a drink with him at his house (worst move on my part EVER). He drove us there in a silver mercedes (thank god it wasn’t the rape van – I had no idea at the time this thing even existed).

We get inside and I met his ROOMMATES (I pity the fools that could actually live with this guy) and go up to his room where his bed was made with what looked to be a chinchilla skin bed spread (I wouldn’t be surprised if he skinned the poor thing himself). He changed into basketball shorts and handed me a bottle of water in which he made a joke that he “roofied” (second red flag) and then jumped on top of me. We made out for a couple more minutes and he yanked my shirt off. When I said no sorry, I’m not going to fuck you he quickly stood above me straddling my body with his ankles, pulled out his DICK and waved it back and worth asking “ever seen one of these, ever seen one of these” (THIRD red flag). What they hell was I supposed to say to that!! I couldn’t help but burst into complete laughter, thinking in my head but not saying…”well I’ve never seen one that small before”. I quickly got up threw my shirt back on and walked out the door. Completely horrified by what had just happened I made sure to yell out “HAVE FUN JERKING OFF” as I ran out the door. Thank goodness my friend Marie lived right down the street and I was able to sprint to her house to tell her the wonders of my terrible evening. When I got to her house I too got incriminating text messages of how clearly pissed he was that I wouldn’t fuck him – needless to say, this night went down in history.

Multiple women who’ve gone on first dates with Allen to Cha Cha Cha (seriously, Jeffy, mix it up a bit?) also commented on the story. For example:

I met him at a bar in San Francisco. I figured out he was a pick-up artist and decided not to meet him at that same tapas bar. When I didn’t show up he lost it. He texted me incomprehensible insults that night and ended up texting me continuously for a month. The entire experience was enlightening because it made me realize how much influence women have over these men. It proved men will do anything/everything to get your attention. In a way it’s empowering because we are the ones in control regardless of the pick-up artist schemes.

So… I went out with this motherfucker. The fact hes getting all of this attention would t make me so furious had my experience with him not been something just short of terrifying.

Sadly, he used the exact same intro email with me, and met me at the same stupid restaurant. He’s sort of entertaining in person, at least visually (insecurity immediately comes through), but is a minuscule 5’8″- in shoes. I get to say that because he called ‘poor Amanda’ fat.

We had a vaguely enjoyable meal.. If ‘enjoyable’ means him hogging all of the food and not even making a move for his wallet when the bill came (I still got him to split it with me).

He said he had some weed at home (few blocks away), and being 6+ feet tall, didn’t feel too worried about it.

I walk into his house (cluttered and full of roommates- this dude is like 36 with a successful book deal), and we go to his room. First thing I see- massive vibrator next to the bed. Second thing I see- used condoms in the trash. Yeah, I know, I should’ve left then.

After we smoke (he shares! Amazing), he starts kissing me. I’m sort of amused.. Next thing I know he’s on top of me (he’s so little! Like a baby seal!) and I’m kind of giggling to myself. He’s dying to go down on me, so I let him. And it was fine. Not mind blowing, but ok.

When he comes back up, he has ZERO clothes on. (I still have my dress on). AND he has grabbed a condom and is putting it on. At this point, I’m like OK, BUDDY. LETS TAKE IT DOWN A NOTCH. total time since kissing began- definitely less than 20 minutes.

He FLIPS the FUCK out. Jumps up and starts berating me, gesturing at his (now limp) dick, saying,”LOOK at what you did to me!!” and “are you kidding me? After all that time I spent on you??”. It was now that I started thinking about whether I was strong enough to beat him off me, should it come to that.

Thankfully, I was able to escape unscathed thanks to Uber and being surprisingly good at calming down angry men with promises of ‘calling them tomorrow’.

This guy is a predator and I hope this coverage helps prevent other girls from going out with him. Though I doubt it will.

Many commenters on our original piece apparently think that any woman drawn in by Allen’s boisterous OkCupid profile deserves what she gets. “She’s responsible for her actions and their consequences,” one wrote. “I don’t know who’s the bigger ass, this guy, or this woman who OBVIOUSLY saw how big of an ass he was and still decided to go out with him,” said another. “As much of a jerk as this guy is, it sounds like he at least wasn’t deceptive.”

Sorry, Nice Guys, but no. Women who are attracted to loudmouthed jokers online don’t deserve to be called names and worse for rejecting their advances after a shitty date IRL. (Does waving one’s dick around even constitute an “advance?”) Shocking as it may seem, it is possible to have a quirky, irreverent sense of humor and respect women! Obviously, Allen is not an example of such a person and so, hopefully, Bay Area ladies will now Google him before accepting invitations to Cha Cha Cha for tapas with a whole lot of troubling strings attached.

Earlier: Prominent Pick-Up Artist Drives a ‘Rape Van’ and Harasses Women on OkCupid