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.
We so often pretend than manipulation is inherently immoral/evil, despite the fact that civilization itself would be impossible, if we weren't all manipulating each other in some fashion
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.
FFS work on moving out of Italy OP. They are the worst women in the world in terms of attitude.
Worse than Ghetto and Trailer Park chicks here in The US?
I see it like living life by intentionally influencing your luck. For instance, if you want to attend an event with 100 people you like, you can manipulate your actions to make that happen. If you have a crush on someone, you can manipulate your actions to increase the chances of being seen by her and making a move. Similarly, if you're unhappy with your job, you can manipulate your time to study for a new profession.
This is interesting! Why? Do you make a comparision with other women you had?
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.
Would this make you arrogant or look like a "fake" *******?
Another way of thinking about this:
Or, as The Man(Dread, that is)himself calls it: Hide The Mamba in The Kitty
