Dimebag_Darrell
Banned
Stay blazed motherf*ckers!
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.
You paid for dinner. You drove. You said "whatever you want is fine" every single time. All the effort, no expectations.
And she left anyway — probably for a guy who makes her pick up the pizza.
Painful. Also predictable. Her mind quietly concludes that anything requiring zero effort from her is worth exactly zero. You became a free sample, and free samples get taken for granted.
The 22 Rules flip the dynamic. Small shifts that get her investing effort, money, and time in you — until SHE'S the one afraid of losing YOU.
totally stole that line from tucker max."you arent hot enough to have this much self respect."
Dinner ran three hours. She laughed at everything. You walked her to her car thinking this one's locked in.
Then: nothing. Two texts. No reply. What happened?
You did what most men do on a great date. You filled every silence, answered every question, and left her with nothing to wonder about. No mystery. Nothing to sit with when she got home.
Rule 3 of the "22 Rules" changes the ending: tell her a little, hold back the rest, and let her imagination do the chasing. The ghosting stops too.
Pook?Luke!! said:Yeh guys, this is one fvcked day. This is on a DJ forum. WTF? Chicks dont like fvck ups who smoke weed. You should just get off this forum now and go fvck your crack baby *****s
Well, that explains the "Four-and-twenty Meat Pies" we have in Australia, and the ad campaign that went "Do you reckon they know what they're missing out on?"The second line of the first verse in the children's nursery rhyme 'Sing a Song of Sixpence' reads: "Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie". ("Baked" is also a common euphemism for being under the influence of cannabis). However, this poem was written long before 4:20 or the term baked entered the language.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/420_(cannabis_culture)
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.
I had two pitchers of liquor (liquid dope) and smoked a bunch of weed, what did you expect? Shakespeare? Dostoyevsky?Stud said:totally stole that line from tucker max.
Weed's not just for f*ck-ups anymore! Most people I know have at least tried it, but I know very few people who smoke it regularly - and of them, most are actually living as well as anybody.Luke!! said:Yeh guys, this is one fvcked day. This is on a DJ forum. WTF? Chicks dont like fvck ups who smoke weed. You should just get off this forum now and go fvck your crack baby *****s
Dinner ran three hours. She laughed at everything. You walked her to her car thinking this one's locked in.
Then: nothing. Two texts. No reply. What happened?
You did what most men do on a great date. You filled every silence, answered every question, and left her with nothing to wonder about. No mystery. Nothing to sit with when she got home.
Rule 3 of the "22 Rules" changes the ending: tell her a little, hold back the rest, and let her imagination do the chasing. The ghosting stops too.