Travel memoir21
Master Don Juan
There planning on bringing MySpace back...I never really had an account back then. Is MySpace worth the hype?
Attraction runs on a clock.
She flirted for weeks. Touched your arm. Found reasons to be alone with you. And you were careful. Respectful. Waiting for the right moment.
The moment had a shelf life. It expired around month two, and by the time you asked her out, she'd quietly filed you under "little brother."
One of the hardest lessons inside the 22 Rules: women rarely wait. Interest either grows or it decays, and nothing decays it faster than a man who never moves.
Make the move while she's still inventing reasons to be near you.
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.
Did you have your account back in the day? I know I didn’t.Wasn't aware that it ever vanished completely
Yeah, I did. It may still even be activeDid you have your account back in the day? I know I didn’t.
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.
I think the idea was to limit it to .edu so that it could work out the kinks.MySpace made its way back when Facebook required a .edu email to join. Then Zuck realized he could open it up to everyone to farm their data and make himself a billionaire.
They also didnt control spamming. DJs, club promoters, and strippers would send everyone messages constantly.MySpace was basically Facebook before Facebook. The problem with MySpace is that there was too much leeway in allowing users to amp up their pages, and it looked like sheet.
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.
Presumably Colbie Cailat is still releasing tunes on this platform alsoMaybe that guy T o m will still be my friend lol.
Hmm, I never got any strippers messaging me. I would have asked if the gal does nightcaps.They also didnt control spamming. DJs, club promoters, and strippers would send everyone messages constantly.
So even back in the 2000s, your enthusiasm for approaching out in the wild was STILL more non-existent than Corey Feldman's "acting" career, post-Licencse To Drive?Hmm, I never got any strippers messaging me. I would have asked if the gal does nightcaps.![]()
You've replayed it a hundred times. She stood three feet away, scrolling her phone. You had an opening. You composed the perfect line — after she was gone.
For all you know, she's married now. To some guy who said something. Anything.
Openers are cheap. Almost any sentence works when it's delivered within three seconds. The expensive part is the standing there, drafting and deleting, while the window quietly closes.
The "22 Rules" stripped out my hesitation. What to open with, how to keep it alive, and the one habit that costs guys more women than anything else: waiting for perfect.
Commander Keen is the SH1T!!!!I don't remember much about 90s/00s slow dial-up internet. I remember you had AOL online, or you'd use a CD drive, which was the big thing back then to load up programs and connect to the internet. MySpace feels like a dinosaur. Don't feel much nostalgia to early internet days but they made life more interesting as a teenager/young adult. Even extremely low res graphics were a treat in those days.
I went to a high school in Atlanta that was about 60-70% Black, and I ended up in the romanticized “gangster” social circle. My MySpace consisted of pictures of Dwyane Wade and Lebron James, Black models in bikinis because I was in love with Black women, and New York rap. Hindsight is 20/20, but I can see how it was detrimental to my own identity and love prospects at the time lolThe "online now" that would flash next to someone's name was stalkerrific.
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Keep in mind this was in the day and age of desktop computers. So you knew someone was home, and not out with someone else.
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.