Travel memoir21
Master Don Juan
There planning on bringing MySpace back...I never really had an account back then. Is MySpace worth the hype?
Your buddy Dave has been single for three years and thinks "hey u up" is a valid strategy. Your other buddy Mike just got dumped and told you to "just be yourself."
You showed them her text. You asked them to decode the emoji. You drafted four responses and sent the screenshot to the group chat for a vote.
She's been waiting forty minutes.
Put the phone down. Stop crowdsourcing your love life. Type something that sounds like you. Hit send. Then go do literally anything else with your evening.
Forget the cash, the cars, and the chiseled jawlines. Female desire operates on a completely different frequency. Primal. Subconscious. Triggers that bypass her logic and hit her on a gut level. Most guys are totally blind to them.
I know because I was one of them. The overthinking. The paralysis. The silent drive home kicking yourself for freezing up. Watching average guys walk away with the girl while you stood there stuck in your own head.
Then I decoded the psychology behind what actually makes women tick. 22 hard rules. Subtle behavioral shifts that rewired my entire reality. The anxiety evaporated. Women started leaning in. Investing. Chasing.
Did you have your account back in the day? I know I didn’t.Wasn't aware that it ever vanished completely
Yeah, I did. It may still even be activeDid you have your account back in the day? I know I didn’t.
She calls you when her car breaks down. When she needs help moving. When some guy she's actually dating treats her badly.
You're the listener. The reliable one. The guy who would treat her so much better, if she'd just open her eyes.
She won't. You trained her to see you as the low-effort option — the friend who requires zero risk and zero investment. Every favor dug the hole deeper.
The "22 Rules" break the pattern. You'll stop auditioning for a role she already cast and become the man she chases instead. It starts with Rule 1.
I think the idea was to limit it to .edu so that it could work out the kinks.MySpace made its way back when Facebook required a .edu email to join. Then Zuck realized he could open it up to everyone to farm their data and make himself a billionaire.
They also didnt control spamming. DJs, club promoters, and strippers would send everyone messages constantly.MySpace was basically Facebook before Facebook. The problem with MySpace is that there was too much leeway in allowing users to amp up their pages, and it looked like sheet.
Most guys accidentally kill attraction before they even speak. They assume they need a bigger bank account, a better physique, or smoother lines. They miss the point.
Female desire operates on a specific set of psychological triggers. Break them, and you're invisible. Follow them, and you become magnetic.
I learned this the hard way. Years of freezing up. Getting friend-zoned. Watching other guys walk away with the girl I wanted. Then I discovered a set of 22 simple rules that rewired my entire approach.
Presumably Colbie Cailat is still releasing tunes on this platform alsoMaybe that guy T o m will still be my friend lol.
Hmm, I never got any strippers messaging me. I would have asked if the gal does nightcaps.They also didnt control spamming. DJs, club promoters, and strippers would send everyone messages constantly.
So even back in the 2000s, your enthusiasm for approaching out in the wild was STILL more non-existent than Corey Feldman's "acting" career, post-Licencse To Drive?Hmm, I never got any strippers messaging me. I would have asked if the gal does nightcaps.![]()
Your buddy Dave has been single for three years and thinks "hey u up" is a valid strategy. Your other buddy Mike just got dumped and told you to "just be yourself."
You showed them her text. You asked them to decode the emoji. You drafted four responses and sent the screenshot to the group chat for a vote.
She's been waiting forty minutes.
Put the phone down. Stop crowdsourcing your love life. Type something that sounds like you. Hit send. Then go do literally anything else with your evening.
Commander Keen is the SH1T!!!!I don't remember much about 90s/00s slow dial-up internet. I remember you had AOL online, or you'd use a CD drive, which was the big thing back then to load up programs and connect to the internet. MySpace feels like a dinosaur. Don't feel much nostalgia to early internet days but they made life more interesting as a teenager/young adult. Even extremely low res graphics were a treat in those days.
I went to a high school in Atlanta that was about 60-70% Black, and I ended up in the romanticized “gangster” social circle. My MySpace consisted of pictures of Dwyane Wade and Lebron James, Black models in bikinis because I was in love with Black women, and New York rap. Hindsight is 20/20, but I can see how it was detrimental to my own identity and love prospects at the time lolThe "online now" that would flash next to someone's name was stalkerrific.
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Keep in mind this was in the day and age of desktop computers. So you knew someone was home, and not out with someone else.
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.