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.
It's bigger than just feminism. That's just one piece of the puzzle. Keep searching.
That's a loser's mentality. Politically correct bullsh1t. "I really like being poor. I'm not a selfish rotten bastard like those rich people. Top Ramen is delicious and foraging for mushrooms sure is fun."
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.
What is she supposed to say? That she's an ugly motherfvcker? Not exactly a recipe for hot sex. Flirt back with her. Have some fun with it. It's not always "she's a rotten feminist b1tch trying to one-up me." You found an excuse to be offended and it ruined your night.
You're comparing money, and food, to women?... you place way too much value on women to even make that analogy
Says the phaggot who preaches the need of monogamy due to the inability of getting girls.LMAO, you are so mentally ill you can't even string a sentence together. There is little question you are schizo and delusional. I pity you and laugh at the same time. The only pathetic little doggie treat sit and roll boy trick you are capable of is spitting out redpill memes like a spastic robot that short-circuits over and over again.
Your psycho rants are pretty funny though.
The real problem is too much soy in your diet and really low testosterone.LMAO, you are so mentally ill you can't even string a sentence together. There is little question you are schizo and delusional. I pity you and laugh at the same time. The only pathetic little doggie treat sit and roll boy trick you are capable of is spitting out redpill memes like a spastic robot that short-circuits over and over again.
Your psycho rants are pretty funny though.
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.
His pathetic attempt at DJing is pedestal treatment of women, monogamy, and urinating from the seated position.
+1
She calls you when her car breaks down. When she needs help moving. When some guy she's actually dating treats her badly.
You're the listener. The reliable one. The guy who would treat her so much better, if she'd just open her eyes.
She won't. You trained her to see you as the low-effort option — the friend who requires zero risk and zero investment. Every favor dug the hole deeper.
The "22 Rules" break the pattern. You'll stop auditioning for a role she already cast and become the man she chases instead. It starts with Rule 1.
Wasn't offended and it didn't ruin my night. Just stating something about a conversation I had and their oversized egos. Take from it what you will.
LMFAO! Triggered because you have no life or identity outside of your schizo rantings on sosuave.
You've taken too much **** up the ass in the pen to think clearly, kid. I feel bad for you.
Forreal all you fvck are blow up dolls and the palm of your hand.
Your buddy Dave has been single for three years and thinks "hey u up" is a valid strategy. Your other buddy Mike just got dumped and told you to "just be yourself."
You showed them her text. You asked them to decode the emoji. You drafted four responses and sent the screenshot to the group chat for a vote.
She's been waiting forty minutes.
Put the phone down. Stop crowdsourcing your love life. Type something that sounds like you. Hit send. Then go do literally anything else with your evening.
LOL enjoy your schizophrenia mental health disability checks sorry fvcker.
Classic male feminist op.
Shut up schizo. Drop your fake red pills in the toilet where they belong during your next period. Nice pink avatar for a pvssy ranting.
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.