Vantagepoint34
Master Don Juan
saw a HB8 recently she wrote to me and I responded then moved on apparently. Still got her cell number and still see each other 
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.
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.
Waitresses are the worst.saw a HB8 recently she wrote to me and I responded then moved on apparently. Still got her cell number and still see each other![]()
Leave tonight. Who's going to tell her yes. The changes are just starting.Waitresses are the worst.
They are the cratered SMV meme I speak of. I wheeled one years ago who is now a single white mom with bastard children from diff black men. She us also a hundred pounds heavier.
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Its comical running into women from the past. Its like being at the circus staring at the bearded lady. Lulz be had.
This... WTF he just say ?Ah yes...the new trolls...write something incoherent and then reply to responses with more incoherent babbling.
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.