Three seconds. That's how long it took. Your shoes. Your posture. The way you held your drink. Whether you looked at the floor or looked at her.
She already filed you away. Interesting. Boring. Safe. Bold. Before you even opened your mouth.
Everything you say after that is just her confirming what she already decided.
So stop rehearsing lines. Fix the first three seconds. Stand tall. Look up. Smile like you mean it. Walk like you belong wherever you're standing.
The words come later. The impression comes first.
You've said it a hundred times. Maybe a thousand. And every time you say it, you train your brain to freeze the next time she walks into the room.
Leagues are a myth invented by guys who are scared of women.
She's a person. She has bad breath in the morning. She picks songs she can't sing in the shower. She overthinks her own texts.
Walk over. Say something. The league dissolves the second you open your mouth.
The chocoloate bar is obviously real though. They probably think they would rather have a sure thing than a worthless hunk of metal.If the silver was fake, you'd only lose out on a chocolate bar. People are dumb.
That's the thing. Nobody actually asked to look at the silver, or asked if it was real. Since they didn't, I'm assuming they thought it was real, and assumed that real chocolate was a better bet than real silver.They probably think they would rather have a sure thing than a worthless hunk of metal.
You've said it a hundred times. Maybe a thousand. And every time you say it, you train your brain to freeze the next time she walks into the room.
Leagues are a myth invented by guys who are scared of women.
She's a person. She has bad breath in the morning. She picks songs she can't sing in the shower. She overthinks her own texts.
Walk over. Say something. The league dissolves the second you open your mouth.
Or they weren't confident in their ability to accurately identify real silver.That's the thing. Nobody actually asked to look at the silver, or asked if it was real. Since they didn't, I'm assuming they thought it was real, and assumed that real chocolate was a better bet than real silver.
I seriously if you did a proper survey and asked the average person, "which would you rather have, a pound of silver or a pound of chocolate," the most people would choose silver. I doubt the average person on the street has any idea that you can actually take a piece of silver somewhere and exchange it for money.Or they weren't confident in their ability to accurately identify real silver.
If that were true then none of them would accept the chocolate. The silver might be fake (assuming they knew what silver was) but why even TAKE the chocolate if it could be easily laced with poison?Or they were suspicious of the entire interaction
That sentence contains at least five follow-up questions she WANTS you to ask. Where in Florida? What brought you here? How long have you been in the area? What do you miss? How does it compare to here?
She handed them to you on a silver platter. And you said, "Oh cool. I come here every week. I love this band. Ummm... pretty crowded tonight."
She smiled politely. Nodded. And never texted you back.
I was that guy for years. Talking too much. Listening too little. Panicking about my next sentence while she was literally feeding me the answers.
Then I found 22 rules that fixed the whole thing. Rule number one: shut up and listen. She'll tell you exactly what to say.