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.
Most guys accidentally kill attraction before they even speak. They assume they need a bigger bank account, a better physique, or smoother lines. They miss the point.
Female desire operates on a specific set of psychological triggers. Break them, and you're invisible. Follow them, and you become magnetic.
I learned this the hard way. Years of freezing up. Getting friend-zoned. Watching other guys walk away with the girl I wanted. Then I discovered a set of 22 simple rules that rewired my entire approach.
Wow, this sounds just like that South Park episode where the boys go to the "Raisins" restaraunt, which features scantily clad 8-year old girls serving ice cream to boys.Originally posted by RedPill
About the third or so return trip for beer you could tell she was diggin' my refreshing non-caring attitude, which caused a rash of jealous outbursts from these guys. One yelled out as she was chatting me up, "she already told us she has a boyfriend before you got here!" On another trip to the table the other asked her, "hey which one of us do you think is the coolest guy with the most money?" Those guys gave her a ridiculous tip (close to $40 on a $60 bill) and then asked her directly if this was enough of a tip. Even though I've had my share of chump moments in years past, those guys took me to school on supplication.
Originally posted by RedPill
Dino's story takes the cake!
Here's some fresh AFC (in)action I've witnessed.
Last night I went out to hooters to hang out with two old buddies of mine who I haven't seen in awhile. They used to be my best friends, back in the chump days. I was quickly reminded why we don't hang out so much anymore. Our waitress (your average attractive and intentionally chatty hooters girl) kept returning to the table periodically to provide more beer, and my buddies were about the least smooth, geeky, annoying customers trying to impress her. I just kinda sat back smugly and watched the awkwardness take place, ocassionally making witty aside comments to her letting her know (right over their heads) how pathetic they were being, and I teased her for dealing with them.
About the third or so return trip for beer you could tell she was diggin' my refreshing non-caring attitude, which caused a rash of jealous outbursts from these guys. One yelled out as she was chatting me up, "she already told us she has a boyfriend before you got here!" On another trip to the table the other asked her, "hey which one of us do you think is the coolest guy with the most money?" Those guys gave her a ridiculous tip (close to $40 on a $60 bill) and then asked her directly if this was enough of a tip. Even though I've had my share of chump moments in years past, those guys took me to school on supplication.
I'll always be friends with those guys, we go way back, but if we only hang out two or three times a year that would be cool with me. Hopefully I never run into them on a date!
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.
Haha, I can totally relate to that. Man, those were the days (the sad part is that it wasn't that long ago for meOriginally posted by Pantera_man
My AFC moments don't involve me supplicating or being a doormat, or being taken advantage of in any way.
Mine involve me ignoring blatant come-on attempts by attractive women, refusing to look at girls who are obviously trying to get my attention, shoving girls away who tried to get me to dance, shoving a girl who was touching the small of my back because I thought she was trying to push me, thinking that any girl who was showing interest directly was mocking me, and basically shutting myself off as protection/ because I didn't know what to say or do.
It f*cking sucks looking back at all those missed opportunities.
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.
There is a difference between AFC and total psycho pedo.Originally posted by evoke
I have a part time job delivering for this pizza shop, and the manager is the biggest douchebag ever.
Like, first off, he's a blatant pedo. I used to work with him at some Burger King when I was in highschool, and all he ever talked about, besides baseball statistics and pro-wrestling, was 9 year olds, and he still lives with his mother. I cut out the ad for The 40-Year Old Virgin out the paper and wrote "(manager's name) IS..." above the title and tacked it onto the bulletin board. When he saw it he almost broke a vein. He kinda looks like him too.
Anyway..
There're these three teenagers. One works there (16), another used to (18), and the third is a friend of theirs (15). Now, these girls are all kinda cute (especially the 16 year old, legal here too....), but like, the dude's old enough to be their father.
Blah blah, here's a quick list, as I don't feel like writing the essay this guy deserves:
- he buys them all packs of cigarrettes (I think he keeps cartons in his car, and he doesn't smoke)
- he drives them around
- he tries talking to them about their teenager issues
- he let's them drive his car (and no, the girls didn't have licenses)
- the 16 year old gets him to do her work, and he cowers when she yells at him
- I looked through his cell phone (shame on me :nono: ) and he had this like 60+ message conversation with the one, talking about taking her shopping for a new phone and taking her to the tanning salon, telling her to "meet" him somewhere and all this. He even addressed her as "Hey girl!". I confronted her about it, and she says he does that a lot, and she always stands him up. Idiot.
- the only picture on his phone is of the 16 year old
- He tried for like 2 months to get the 16 year old to go to the shore with him. Taking a 16 year old out of state... isn't that like kidnapping? Then he almost cried when he had to go alone. Haha!
- he gave them his "schedule", telling them when and where he was going everday, like to the tanning salon, to the pool, shopping, all this crap, in case they should decide to tag along
- he invited them to a party he claimed he was having, using the allure of free booze. I seriously don't think he knows anyone his own age.
- he turns all red and gets jealous when they flirt with me
- he buys them clothing out of some girly catalog he gets in the mail. Why the **** does he get catalogs for teenage girls clothing mailed to his (mom's) house?
- the absolute dumbest thing he's done thus far, was give the older chick $500 to buy a car. He's not gonna see that ****ing money. Moron.
He also seems like a racist, as I've never seem him act so generous towards the black or latino girls that have worked there.
You asked her if she wanted to grab coffee. Then you asked if the time worked. Then you asked if the place was okay. Then you asked if she'd prefer tea.
Four questions. Four chances for her to say no. Four signals that you're terrified of making a decision.
Plan it. Pick the place. Pick the time. Tell her where to meet you. She'll either show up or she won't.
Either way, you look like a man instead of a scared little boy.
You made your case like a lawyer. Stable job. Good guy. Ready for something real. All true. All irrelevant.
She weighed your points, nodded along, felt nothing — then fell hard for some tattooed bartender with a motorcycle and a gambling problem.
Logic is where attraction goes to die. The "22 Rules" work a level deeper, on the subconscious switches that decide within minutes whether you register as a MAN or as part of the furniture.
Stop presenting evidence. Start flipping switches.