She says the movie looks dumb; you suddenly agree. She tests you with a little attitude; you apologize for nothing.
You think you're being easy to get along with. She reads something else entirely: a man with no edges. Nothing to hold on to. No friction, no tension, no reason to wonder what he really thinks.
The "22 Rules" taught me to push back — playfully, calmly, without needing her approval. Strange things happened after that.
You've replayed it a hundred times. She stood three feet away, scrolling her phone. You had an opening. You composed the perfect line — after she was gone.
For all you know, she's married now. To some guy who said something. Anything.
Openers are cheap. Almost any sentence works when it's delivered within three seconds. The expensive part is the standing there, drafting and deleting, while the window quietly closes.
The "22 Rules" stripped out my hesitation. What to open with, how to keep it alive, and the one habit that costs guys more women than anything else: waiting for perfect.
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.
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.
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.
Originally Posted by KarmaSutra
Funny sidebar about this particular ex girlfriend. I was hanging out at her Mom's place and GF went to pickup her sister from work. We're chatting about nothing and her Mom switched the tv over to the vcr (this indicates how long ago this was) and on the tv is a chick sucking c0ck like no tomorrow!
I know what's up and pull her Mom over to me and kiss her playing itty biggy t!tty. Of course she starts fumbling with my buttonfly's and gets them off to give me one of the best oral lessons I've ever recieved. Off the hook good.
She recieves my gift and goes to the ladies room to gargle and rinse out my goo. Short while later GF and cvnt jr get there and she can smell it.
She knows.
Something happened but we ain't talking. Never said a word UNTIL I came home from vacation in CT to find half my sh!t gone.
Then, I told her Dad (that's where she moved back with MY stuff) that if I didn't have all of my things back at my house within two hours, his neighbors and everyone at his church would have glossy 5x7's of his beloved eldest daughter taking acupuncture up her dirtchute with my beef injection and
8x10's of her giving me mouth to meatwhistle rescucitation.
After about an hour and a half they roll in to my yard and all of my stuff has been replaced where it had been taken.
Just goes to show that it certainly does pay to keep something from every relationship in your back pocket. There will ulitmately come a rainy day in EVERY relationship.
Interesting postscrip to the ex GF; After my things were back and they were leaving is when I sprung it on them both that every time they had kissed thier Mom/Wife they had sucked my d!ck by-proxy!
"Have a great life." were the last words I uttered to them both.
Not the last time I had fvcked her Mom though.![]()
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.