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.
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.
Same here.Cure said:Squat for big arms indeed.
Ive not done any direct arm work for several months now, yet my arms are noticably bigger, certainly bigger than they ever were when I was doing 30 bicep curls every other day!! :crackup:
Cure.
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.
insidious said:mrR, thanks for your typically caustic input, but please don't even pretend to presume to understand my private motivations.
If your mental boundaries define your worldview, I think you've quite well displayed that those boundaries are in fact the size of a flea.
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.
Drum & Bass, how dare you post a picture of my body without my consent. I agree tho, my arms have shot up and inch in the last few weeks just by incorporating a little more direct arm work into the scence, that is not to say however that it is not imperative to concentrate on the compundsDrum&Bass said:genetics may play a role in the size of someones arms or how hard someone has to work to get them looking good, but squats dont give you big arms. Upperbody work and direct arm training gives you big arms. Squats are a nice little bonus.
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you're joking... please? tell me you're jokingThreeStorms said:Like the guys carrying dumbells in their car trunks to pump up biceps before hitting the clubs Oo
Don't be one of those guys!
Nay, I heard that from credible sources. Teenage boys driving around with dumbbells, wearing XS muscle shirts and pumping up their arms on the disco parking lot.Cure said:you're joking... please? tell me you're joking![]()
you let them leave?Kerpal said:I've seen guys come into the gym in clubbing clothes on Friday night, do a few set of bench press and curls, and leave.
Yeah right, I was talking about those pretty boys with a ridiculous small frame but (moderatly) big guns - which they always show with some sleeveless dress shirts. You know immediatly that this guy does curls and not much else and has no clue about BB.Kerpal said:^ I think he was talking about people who have disproportionately big arms. If you have big arms, chest and shoulders and small everything else, you're going to look ridiculous.
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.