"I just moved here from Florida."
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.
Women Who Walk Dogs
- Thread starter bigneil
- Start date
"She Liked You in March. It's October Now."
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.
A girl walking a dog usually means she has a rotten attitude, hates her dad, and lives in a dilapatated, smelly, often smokey apartment, with a hairy couch. You'll come over and some big dog will run over and get you all wet and she'll say "No! Down!" And dog women are often dumbed down versions of horse women (who are devoted to their pets in an eerie, disconnected way).
If I were you, I would bend myself and reach to the dog, caress the dog, say "so cute" play with it for a few seconds. Then look up to the woman ask questions about the dog "how old is it?, what is it's name?, what breed is it?, da da da." Then introduce yourself and ask questions about the woman herself "if she lives there, if she works there, if she goes to college there, with whom she lives, da da da."
"She's Out of Your League"
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.
Poonani Maker
Master Don Juan
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I did this Very thing today. Almost got me laid on the spot, and I'd just met the (had to me late 20s) woman (in an apartment complex -- close to University). Her dog was big liek one of those Horse dogs. I Reached as you say and petted it. At first I was concerned about it biting me (no leash and kinda jumpy, but leaning on me mostly), but she assured me that it was sweet. I told her that I had been bitten several times long ago and she sounded so concerned (kinda strange, cause she seemed like one of those "Cool" type girls who wouldn't give a sh!t about my being hurt by a dog...she had Old looking eyes but her body was still youthful (t!tties) and not fat and it's Summer so it's hot and people are hornier and fvcking more). Her eyes were saggy, she's probably party hardy a great bit of her college life (though I guessed late 20s on her). She's probably been ran through and beaten up pvssy a bit, but I'd still hit it, quit it, park stop it, neutral slam it, run it through all the gears, and leave it on the lot where I found it.