I started to realize at about 25. It would have been earlier but I was a hardcore alcoholic so I was too drunk to notice I was having a shyt time. Having cleaned up my act, the idea of spending more than fifteen minutes in a nightclub fycking digusts me. I worked at one while doing my degree. It's a cesspit of people with literally nothing more worthwhile to do. Harsh view, but having spoken to a lot of club goers, they're fairly vacuous and uninteresting people. My view as an alcoholic (I'm reformed but you honestly never stop being an alcoholic, see Craig Ferguson discussing his drinking problems for more information) is that weekend warriors are purely in it for the escape drugs, booze and sex gives them. They get to run away from their life for the night. I enjoy my life, I don't want to run away from it.
"The Kiss of Death Mistake"
You replay the conversation at 2 a.m. She texted back fast yesterday. Today, nothing. Was that smile friendly or flirty? What did the shoulder touch mean?
Every hour you spend decoding her signals drains your confidence and hands her the controls. Women can sense that insecurity from across the room — and it repels them.
One of the "22 Rules" kills the obsession on the spot: assume she likes you, and act accordingly. Sounds too simple. Works anyway.
Her interest tends to rise to meet your expectations. Psychologists call it a self-fulfilling prophecy.