"I just moved here from Florida."

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.

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Bob Dylan is a Don Juan

Stugots26

Senior Don Juan
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I was listening to some Bob Dylan recently and found a new appreciation for "It Ain't Me Babe." If you listen to the lyrics, it's actually from the perspective of man who chooses to bolt vs. pedestalizing and white knighting what appears to be a self-entitled princess. I'll leave the lyrics here (emphases added) and let you be the judge, but it should be required listening for DJs:

"It Ain't Me Babe"

Go 'way from my window
Leave at your own chosen speed
I'm not the one you want, babe
I'm not the one you need
You say you're lookin' for someone
Who's never weak but always strong
To protect you an' defend you
Whether you are right or wrong
Someone to open each and every door

But it ain't me, babe
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.

Go lightly from the ledge, babe
Go lightly on the ground
I'm not the one you want, babe
I will only let you down
You say you're lookin' for someone
Who will promise never to part
Someone to close his eyes for you
Someone to close his heart
Someone who will die for you an' more

But it ain't me, babe
No, no, no, it ain't me babe
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.

Go melt back in the night
Everything inside is made of stone
There's nothing in here moving
An' anyway I'm not alone
You say you're looking for someone
Who'll pick you up each time you fall
To gather flowers constantly
An' to come each time you call
A lover for your life an' nothing more

But it ain't me, babe
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.
 

"She's Out of Your League"

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.

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