Fenderules
Master Don Juan
i heard about the aussies......... yeah and the meth.
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.
You asked her if she wanted to grab coffee. Then you asked if the time worked. Then you asked if the place was okay. Then you asked if she'd prefer tea.
Four questions. Four chances for her to say no. Four signals that you're terrified of making a decision.
Plan it. Pick the place. Pick the time. Tell her where to meet you. She'll either show up or she won't.
Either way, you look like a man instead of a scared little boy.
exactly what went through my mind!!!!!! hahahahaEntropy4 said:Haha, what a suspenseful thread.
And LOL at a 17 year old giving beer recommendations. ROFL
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.
She asks it casually, mid-sip. And you feel the floor open up, because the honest answer is work, gym, and a couple shows you're half-watching.
Women rarely say this out loud, but a man with a life is attractive before he says a word. The guy who spent Saturday deep-sea fishing and came back with photos and a story — he walks in already interesting.
The "22 Rules" pushed me to build a life worth talking about. Turns out the fastest way to be interesting to women is to be interested in your own life first.
Real talk. This includes bud!!!!A-Unit said:I'm always suspect of women who do ANY drugs, because most of them get drugs for free if they fvck the deal OR did fvck the dealer at one point.
wow that actually sounds like a great nightCentaurion said:Damn.
I'm ****ed up beyond belief right now.
Today was a really boring Sunday and I'd been studying for my finals all day, so I headed out pretty late with a couple of mates just for the hell of it.
Anyways, we get to this club an hour before closing time. Right away I see that a lot of people have hooked up, or were in the process of hooking up, so my chances to score some tail for the night looked really grim. But this did not deter me from carrying out my mission.
Within a couple of minutes I spot this really cute chick (a solid HB8) standing by herself at the bar. But I see that a couple of guys had zoned in on her, so I had to be quick. Without thinking twice I walked up to her, and blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. It went something like this,
Cent : "Hey, I was wondering if you could help me with something?"
HB8 : "Huh? Eeeeh what do you want?"
Cent : "You see, me and a couple of mates mine are having this bet. They said I couldn't walk up to a random chick and get a kiss within 3 mins. And they promised me a case of VB (aussie beer) if I got a kiss. So what do you say? I'll even split it with you.."
HB8 : "hmmm...I'll do it if I get the case"
Cent : "wooow, you're not THAT hot!" <-- c&f tone
HB8 : *shocked*
I leaned forward and kissed her on the lips at this point. Yes I know, it's ultra lame!!!! But I was drunk and this was the first thing that came to my mind. It worked though.
Still it worked.
By this time it was last call, and before I knew it I was really macking on her. It was nuts. I don't know what happened at this point, but soon I was in a cab heading to her place.
At her place she was really into it, and soon we were on the bed fooling around. That's when she brought out this glass-pipe thing. I was like,
![]()
Cent : "what the hell is that?"
HB8 : "it's Ice...real good stuff...try it!"
Cent : *drunk as hell* "OK!"
I know it was ****ing stupid, but the ****ing moment had me. She warmed up the pipe and told me to inhale the smoke (I havnt done alot of drugs beside the usual pot, so I had no ****ing idea what it was). I remember sucking on this pipe while she was sucking my d*ck.
At his point I remember everything, but my inhibition and common sense was thrown out the window. As I said, the moment had me, and she was the bj queen, rubbing my d*ck all over her. And then she suddenly slipped it in without condom.
I just wentagain, and she was, "don't worry, I'm on the pill".
Stupid me didn't get up and b*tchslap the b*tch as she deserved, and I kept going.
A while into it I asked her how much this stuff costs, cause it was really good (ice). And she,
Hb8 : "Don't worry, it's free. I **** the dealer!"
For the third time, I wentbut this time, my spider-sense kicked in. It felt like someone had punched me in the gut while pouring hot lava over my d*ck!
****! ****, this freaked me out. Here I was, drunk, high and ****ing this ***** without a condom, and she'd just admitted to **** a drugdealer on a regular basis. Holy ****ing **** guys!!!
It took me about a couple of minutes before composing myself as I had to fight down this urge to b*tchslap her beyond belief. ****! I gathered my **** and got the hell out of dogde as fast as I could.
So here I am, 5 am in the morning. Holy ****. I've been checking out these std sites, and when the clinic opens, I'll be the first one there.
Moral of the story, take ****ing care guys. ALWAYS use a condom, and don't **** chicks that **** dealers!
Holy ****! I'm staying the **** away from chicks for a while now.
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.