"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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Chicks can be fricken evil!!

Don Juanabbe

Master Don Juan
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Nothing shocks me with women anymore. My friend's cousin dropped her husband of 10 years to run off to Michigan to be with some guy she was cheating with. The real shocker is that she gave up her three children to be with this guy. She now has no access to the children, the man has total custody and the kids don't want to know their hor mother anymore. He moved on and has found a new woman who is now basically the kids' stepmother.

Last I heard of her was it didn't work out with the guy from Michigan and her life is an endless parade of men who don't want to be with her 40 something year old arse.

I have another friend who also left him. He provided her with a nice big house, he's a decent looking guy and makes decent coin. She left him wanting her independence. She moved into an apartment, and got a job as a bartender, no doubt jumping on every **** in site. They have two children.

He has since met a 26 year old girl, he's 38. She too, has basically given up her children.

Now she has no man, no children, and no house, all because she though Sex in the City and Desperate Housewives was real. A mutual friend says she's really kicking herself now.
 

"You Can't Argue a Woman Into Liking You"

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.

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