"She Liked You in March. It's October Now."

Attraction runs on a clock.

She flirted for weeks. Touched your arm. Found reasons to be alone with you. And you were careful. Respectful. Waiting for the right moment.

The moment had a shelf life. It expired around month two, and by the time you asked her out, she'd quietly filed you under "little brother."

One of the hardest lessons inside the 22 Rules: women rarely wait. Interest either grows or it decays, and nothing decays it faster than a man who never moves.

Make the move while she's still inventing reasons to be near you.

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Can You Remember When Your Mums Hot Babe Friend Turned You Into An AFC

KoalaKing

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Can you remember those days when you were only 14 and your horny young virgin penis desperately desired to explore the innermost places of your Mummies gorgeous 30 year old long blonde haired bombshell friends vaginal cavity, which was to present her with so much power over you.

She would flirt, smile, tell your Mum how much of a young hunk that you had developed into, she was the prize, she had the vagina, the pretty face, the fully developed breasts, the mature body, and she knew so very well that you would do anything that she demanded of you to do so that you could explore it.

That day when she cuddled up to you, pushed her boobies into your chest and began to hold your hand, your penis grew to its biggest possible size, you became so very frightened, but you desperately wanted so much more of her and she knew that.

From the moment of which your penis nervously entered inside of her vagina, she was to have knowingly obtained complete control and power over you.

You just couldn't get enough of her, as you followed her around like a happy little puppy dog with your tongue excitedly sticking out, you had become her little toy-boy, if she told you to jump you would ask how high, you were now her puppet, as she did as she pleased.

It never bothered you if she went out with or got fu-cked by another older guy, as long as your young penis was pounding itself inside of her once or twice a week, she remained your dominator.

You knew that she just couldn't be replaced, your AFC days had begun, she was the prize not you, and whilst she was fu-cking those older guys in her bedroom, you were doing all of her chores, washing her car, mowing her lawn, cleaning her dishes, scratching her back and fu-cking her yourself after the older guys had gone.

If she had have asked you to steal or to lie or to kill for her you would have done so, as your penis depended upon it.

You had no choice in those days but to be an AFC it was the only way that you could get a regular fu-ck, but you continued to be like this in your older years, as you always believed that your penis depended upon this.

Many years later you realized that you yourself could be the prize, you didn't have to take this sh-it from a hot babe any longer, as your older penis could at last make its way into many more than that beforehand lone vagina, you changed, but you still remember the one who turned you into an AFC, it was your Mums hot babe friend who ruled all over you. :yes:
 

"She Laughed All Night. Then She Ghosted You. Here's Why."

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.

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SamePendo

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Damn I envy you Koala, I wish that was how I became an AFC.
 

mpimpin

Master Don Juan
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wow... dang thats the way to become an Afc!! Lucky man
 

grr

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lol no sh!t, really wishing I never moved in with my Dad, now.

But for me my slightly older sisters were largely to blame for my temporary AFC-like attributes. Like most young girls they spent half their time being nice girls and the other half being destructive witches.

I'm sure having matriarchial families on both sides didn't help, either.
 

Rocker

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If that story wasn't so obviously concocted, it would be very disturbing.
 

"You'll Never Feel READY to Walk Over"

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.

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