"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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Is it good normie-Beta game to take classes (i.e., as a dateless bachelor) in parenting (e.g., learning how to feed & clean a baby, etc.)?

MatureDJ

Master Don Juan
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I was reading this, and it got me interested:
The man in the traditional kimono is having difficulty with the breasts. The weight of the belly strains his back. Simply walking around the room—a party room in a Tokyo condo building—is more like lumbering. Lying down and getting up again is a struggle. The rest of the men in the Ikumen class laugh as he tries to adjust to the new reality. But then we all have to try on the pregnancy suit ourselves, and one by one, we come to the same conclusion: It’s hard to be a woman.

The class is sort of like the prenatal ones I attended when my wife was pregnant—except that none of my classmates is actually a father or father-to-be. Some of them aren’t even dating. Many of them will list their attendance in this class on their dating profiles with the aim of attracting a partner. The young women they’re hoping to interest want to see some fatherhood credentials up front.
my opinion: The only gal I could see doing this are the ones that have hit the epiphany phase after their decade on the c0ck carousel, and you just know that she knows that she has a desperate man that she can boss around and won't have to sex after pumping out her 2.4 kids. :down:
 

"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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