penkitten
Master Don Juan
Hey oldtimers, was mystery the one who wore the pirate shirt with puffy sleeves?
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.
Next Monday you'll feel more confident. After the gym you'll feel more confident. After one more drink you'll feel more confident. After you get a better haircut, a better jacket, a better job.
You've been "getting ready" for two years.
She's standing ten feet away right now. She'll be gone in four minutes. No amount of preparation will manufacture the courage that only comes from moving your feet.
Walk over. Stumble through the first sentence. Let it be clumsy. Let it be imperfect. You will feel more alive in those ten seconds than you have all month.
No it wasn't. Guys one this forum will say a lot of things about PUA gurus, however you will never here anybody on here they pulls chicks off their looks. If they could pull chicks just off of their personality alone, then there would have never been The Mystery Method, Real Social Dynamics, or Bang.Because every point you made was pointless.
Yes, you did.I did not dodge anything.
Since when did six paragraphs and a sentence become War and Peace? I have long posts in my approach journal and this my friend isn't a "long," post by any means. Unless of course you have ADHD.I skimmed through your lengthy post
In that rebuttual, you didn't say ****.and summarized my rebuttal in a few sentences.
The DJ Bible is cool, but comparing it to in field instruction from dudes who do this sh*t for a living is a little absurd. It's analogous to saying that you get a 175 on the LSAT simply going to the library and studying an LSAT prep book as opposed to taking a course on how to take the LSAT from Kaplan, Princeton Review, or Blueprint.And to answer your question, the boot camp provided in the DJ Bible was free and I did it independently for a while.
How do scam artists stay in business of over ten years?But to join a flock of sheep who blindly follow these scam artists, no.
1) Who cares?I'm beginning university this upcoming semester so it's busy for me this time of the year.
When did I say or imply anything about you not replying to my posts in a timely manner?I apologize if I'm unable to respond to your posts in a timely manner.
Yet another futile attempt at deflection.I hope that does not pinch another nerve.
I swear he used to wear a puffy pirate shirt.No, Mystery was invented by Dr. Suess in 1957. At that time he was known as "The Cat in The Hat".
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Unless of course you have ADHD.
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 didn't ask, nor did I care. That was your lame ass attempt at ducking the points I brought up.I take it you did not read the posts where I stated that I had errands to run or that I have a busy week.
I didn't and you just realize that there's no logical way you counter any point that I brought, which explains why you brought up sh*t that wasn't even germane to the conversation.What makes you think someone like you who has his head stuck up his ass would even attempt to rebuttal any counter argument claim I give?
It only goes to prove your idiocy.By the way, breaking down each sentence bits by bits only proves how buttmad you are.
Again, going completely and totally off topic with some sh*t that wasn't even in the initial conversation. When did I ever ask for an apology?I'm still not apologizing for insulting your idols.
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.
I did a search and didn't find him in a puffy shirt. You're not thinking of Seinfeld, are you? I know they did an episode on that.I swear he used to wear a puffy pirate shirt.
I didn't ask, nor did I care. That was your lame ass attempt at ducking the points I brought up.
I didn't and you just realize that there's no logical way you counter any point that I brought, which explains why you brought up sh*t that wasn't even germane to the conversation.
It only goes to prove your idiocy.
Again, going completely and totally off topic with some sh*t that wasn't even in the initial conversation. When did I ever ask for an apology?
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.
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.