You replay the conversation at 2 a.m. She texted back fast yesterday. Today, nothing. Was that smile friendly or flirty? What did the shoulder touch mean?
Every hour you spend decoding her signals drains your confidence and hands her the controls. Women can sense that insecurity from across the room — and it repels them.
One of the "22 Rules" kills the obsession on the spot: assume she likes you, and act accordingly. Sounds too simple. Works anyway.
Her interest tends to rise to meet your expectations. Psychologists call it a self-fulfilling prophecy.
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.
Yes she smokes them.
Will do...can't do weed bcasue I work for the gubmint. What kind of alcohol do young girls like? Just get Swisher sweets or good gars? Suggestion?
You made your case like a lawyer. Stable job. Good guy. Ready for something real. All true. All irrelevant.
She weighed your points, nodded along, felt nothing — then fell hard for some tattooed bartender with a motorcycle and a gambling problem.
Logic is where attraction goes to die. The "22 Rules" work a level deeper, on the subconscious switches that decide within minutes whether you register as a MAN or as part of the furniture.
Stop presenting evidence. Start flipping switches.
Smirnoff?. Are you kidding? I bathe my toe warts in that swill. C'mon, for semi decent booze, move up the ladder a little bit
She is 23 and that is why I asked the board. I have no clue. She has been pester ing me about how much soda i drink. She is the coke police. She even went as far as to say she wanted white men to live longer. I live on the Hispanic side of town. Yesterday she was giving me **** about the coke and I said hey your hair looks different. She said really? Then I said ya I think you brushed it. Pissed her off. I think I will stick with going monk. One more date Friday and then I will work on my issues only.
Ole Rex is going to have to disagree with the Ruler on this one. Being a "Brother of the Leaf," myself and since you said she smokes sticks herself use this as opportunity to expose her to some new sh*t and take her to you local cigar shop.
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.
