lol! Took me a minute to figure it out...Originally posted by C-Damage
Whats the best thing about screwing 29 year olds?
theres 20 of em
Twenty - Nine year olds!
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.
lol! Took me a minute to figure it out...Originally posted by C-Damage
Whats the best thing about screwing 29 year olds?
theres 20 of em
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.
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.
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.
lolA hippie gets onto a bus and sits next to a nun in the front seat. The hippie looks over and asks the nun if she would have sex with him. The nun surprised by the question politely declines and gets off the at the next stop.
When the bus starts on it's way the driver says to the hippie, "I can tell you how you can get that nun to have sex with you." The hippie says that he'd love to know, so the bus driver tells him that every Tuesday evening at midnight the nun goes to the cemetery and prays to God. "If you went dressed in a robe and glow in the dark paint mask she would think you are God and you could command her to have sex with you."
The hippie decides this is a great idea, so that Tuesday he goes to the cemetery and waits for the nun to show up. At midnight sure enough the nun shows up and begins praying the hippie jumped out from hiding and says. "I AM GOD! I have heard your prayers and I will answer them, BUT ... first you must have sex with me." The nun agrees but asks for anal sex so she might keep her virginity because she is married to the church. The hippie agrees to this and has his way with the nun.
After the hippie finishes he stands up and rips off the mask and shouts,"Ha! Ha! Ha! I'm the hippie!!"
Then the nun jumps up and shouts, "Ha! Ha! Ha! I'm the bus driver!!"
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.
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.