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.
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.
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.
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.
Originally posted by -HPNOTIQ-
Some of the guys here take "Master DJ Status" and wear it on their sleeve - like a badge that shows the world that they are the greatest thing to women since Summer's Eve Douch Bags.
Half of the fellas on this site with over a billion posts reply with things like:
"Great post"
"I agree totally"
"You the man"
"Blah Blah Blah"
"My P*ssy Hurts"
"Bump"
Or some other 2 or 3 word reply and after one month hit 500 posts. Wow..what a great accomplishment. A Master DJ? - I really doubt it.
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.
blah blah blah...the one after that had me in tears of laughterOriginally posted by -HPNOTIQ-
Some of the guys here take "Master DJ Status" and wear it on their sleeve - like a badge that shows the world that they are the greatest thing to women since Summer's Eve Douch Bags.
Half of the fellas on this site with over a billion posts reply with things like:
"Great post"
"I agree totally"
"You the man"
"Blah Blah Blah"
"My P*ssy Hurts"
"Bump"
Or some other 2 or 3 word reply and after one month hit 500 posts. Wow..what a great accomplishment. A Master DJ? - I really doubt it.
Pook on the other hand, we've all read the stuff he posts here. Post counts or not, I don't think he really gives a rip if he has status. He's been on here, what, 3 years now. I'm sure he's read every senerio every guy on here has posted over and over again. He's earned his stripes.