SELF-MASTERY
Banned
- Joined
- Dec 15, 2004
- Messages
- 1,971
- Reaction score
- 7
The nastiest thing that I have every done is.........
taste my own shyt and my own urine.
taste my own shyt and my own urine.
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.
yeah right...TyTe`EyEs said:This must be Mastery's attempt at getting banned. It was inevitable...
I could talk to any woman I wasn't attracted to. Charming, funny, relaxed. Then a gorgeous woman looked my way and I'd become a sweating, babbling mess.
The fix took me years to find and ten minutes to learn. Nervousness and excitement are the same physical state — pounding heart, adrenaline, flushed face. Your brain just picks the label. And you can pick a better one.
Rule 16 shows you how. You feel the nerves, relabel them as excitement, and let that energy pour out as enthusiasm. Women notice the guy radiating it. They always do.
Did you make it up to her??? I know she was pissed at you.Taviii said:I pucked in a girls bag of clothes right before new years eve so ruining the event for her.
I, for one, don't find this as nasty as many people would.SELF-MASTERY said:The nastiest thing that I have every done is.........
taste my own shyt and my own urine.
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.
Common sense almost made me apologise, but I fought the urge and didnt even look at her.SELF-MASTERY said:Did you make it up to her??? I know she was pissed at you.
Dude, I can beat that. I listened to an entire album by the B-52s.The nastiest thing that I have every done is.........
taste my own shyt and my own urine.
Oh man, I'm a sick fuq then... I've listened to the whole Aqua album.Desdinova said:Dude, I can beat that. I listened to an entire album by the B-52s.
Warm and full-bodied, with earthy, nutty overtones and hints of berries that dwindle to a bitter, smokey finish...pooparu said:What did that c*m taste like though man, I'm too ***** to taste my own lol.
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.
OMG this thread is so funny :crackup:Vulpine said:Hell, I can't go out to eat anywhere without going home and blasting hot, frothy jets of liquid fire through a screen door....
I guess there was this time that I got snowballed during naughty-drunken sex.... I can't really comment on how good or bad it tasted: it's not like I'm a connoiseur and have tasted any other loads to compare it to.... and spit it back out all over her face - like a "3rd hand money shot".
Then I got up and got a big drink of water.
LMAO, nah bro its cool i'll take your word for it.Vulpine said:Warm and full-bodied, with earthy, nutty overtones and hints of berries that dwindle to a bitter, smokey finish...
Come on, dude, what the fuq do you want me to tell you?
It's bitter, salty, and gives you a weird stinging, scratchy feeling in your throat. Everyone has different tastes - some don't like olives, pineapple, or coconut. So, some people spit, some swallow... Mine might taste like pumpkin pie compared to some others - I wouldn't know.
Try your own spunk and get back to us, pooparu. Go. Now. Go shake one out into a shot glass and neck it.
You paid for dinner. You drove. You said "whatever you want is fine" every single time. All the effort, no expectations.
And she left anyway — probably for a guy who makes her pick up the pizza.
Painful. Also predictable. Her mind quietly concludes that anything requiring zero effort from her is worth exactly zero. You became a free sample, and free samples get taken for granted.
The 22 Rules flip the dynamic. Small shifts that get her investing effort, money, and time in you — until SHE'S the one afraid of losing YOU.