Julius_Seizeher
Master Don Juan
Without reading your exasperatingly long cry for help of a post, I can safely say that your philosophy also prevents you from getting laid or having a life.
Three seconds. That's how long it took. Your shoes. Your posture. The way you held your drink. Whether you looked at the floor or looked at her.
She already filed you away. Interesting. Boring. Safe. Bold. Before you even opened your mouth.
Everything you say after that is just her confirming what she already decided.
So stop rehearsing lines. Fix the first three seconds. Stand tall. Look up. Smile like you mean it. Walk like you belong wherever you're standing.
The words come later. The impression comes first.
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.
Well thats true I have no friends and am a virgin. I'm poison to the gene's survival instinct. But I don't really think my philosophy is personal like my dad claims. I've read a plethora of PUA literature since 2004, and made a few weak attempts to put DeAngelo, Strauss, NLP, mystery etc into practice, but I wasn't really into it. I don't really have a strong eros drive. I only pursued it in a Hegelian sense by accepting what the wider culture commands of me. But the end result of me reading the Roissysphere was just to help cement a biological human nature theory of pessimism which just confirmed my philosophy.Julius_Seizeher said:Without reading your exasperatingly long cry for help of a post, I can safely say that your philosophy also prevents you from getting laid or having a life.
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.
You're a pseudo-intellectual fvckwit who needs to stop pretending that you're smart.enamdar said:Well I didn't graduate college, I just stopped going just short of graduation, and got straight Fs for the semester. I'm currently living on my own burning through my savings. I'm not supported by my folks except to the extent that a large part of my saving came from them originally. I suppose its a game of chicken. I'm just not going to act from any self-preservation. I'm not willing to take conscious action to struggle in the Darwinian struggle for existence and reproduction. Of course females prefer men with a job, and so-called independence. (Although I enjoy the maximum possible independence short of Walden, my only master is the ticking clock, so perhaps "independence" is not the admired trait afterall?) It is pointless to begrudge the mechanical genetic programming of Dawkin's survival machines. The ape-rapist best able to secure resources passes on its genes. There is nothing "conscious" about it. It is simply a tendency most likely to be preserve. If one is to be anthropomorphic one can call such behavior "cruel" or "sadistic", but it is simply a natural tendency to be preserved, even in humans. As Hume said one can not get ought from is. At first I was mystified by the human obsession with sex. For a long while I took a Calvinistic Puritan view that valued the reproductive values of sex against pleasure. Only a biological view, that it was indeed the genetic motive itself that produced such sex-cruelty made it comprehensible to me. So I'm pretty dismissive of the idea that a girlfriend offers any solution to metaphysical despair. Although I understand the genetic origins of such reasoning.
Get a puppy. That would cheer you up. And stop reading existential philosophy. It is useless in regard to puppies.
When a woman says it, guys hear a confession. A heads-up. A scheduling conflict.
Here's the translation: I don't feel anything. Right now. With you.
Watch what happens when a man triggers actual attraction. The busy career, the recent breakup, the "not in a place to date" — all of it evaporates instantly. The same woman who was guarding her freedom is suddenly free every night.
The "22 Rules" explain why. When the right switches flip, her timeline rearranges itself around you.
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.
Most people just forget about their nihilistic views of existence once they start feeling their human emotions, even if they are illogical. You just roll with it, live, learn and love because you can't help it as you are just human animal. Although it's always fun to stare into the abyss from time to time and feel the freedom.Brighty said:I think the smart philosophers that agree with you realize what you are saying about our culture and existence as a whole but choose to dumb themselves down and "play the game" in a sense, because in the long term they realize they will reap more happiness that way.
ThunderMaverick said:What are your thoughts on suicide? Ever thought about using that as an alternative?
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.