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.
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.
anyone who knows what those words mean wouldn't message herCan't even believe delusional girls like this even exist. Read about people like this and see videos but it's still so weird to see.
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.
Screams liberal nutcase...Can't even believe delusional girls like this even exist. Read about people like this and see videos but it's still so weird to see.
Good point. You don't have to next her. She warns you upfront not to waste your time.In all honesty, I appreciate bluntness. It's like a rejection before you even messaged her, be thankful for that![]()
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.
Would you settle for being a seagull? You can still drop hot sticky loads and we will still call you Apache. The ball's in your court...lolI sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of soaring over the oilfields dropping hot sticky loads on disgusting foreigners. People say to me that a person being a helicopter is Impossible and I’m fvcking retarded but I don’t care, I’m beautiful. I’m having a plastic surgeon install rotary blades, 30 mm cannons and AMG-114 Hellfire missiles on my body. From now on I want you guys to call me “Apache” and respect my right to kill from above and kill needlessly. If you can’t accept me you’re a heliphobe and need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding.
But, but... I want the guns, especially the Hellfire missiles. Besides, I'm helisexual.Would you settle for being a seagull? You can still drop hot sticky loads and we will still call you Apache. The ball's in your court...lol
haahhaa i know im late but i just saw this thread. this is funny stuff.I sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of soaring over the oilfields dropping hot sticky loads on disgusting foreigners. People say to me that a person being a helicopter is Impossible and I’m fvcking retarded but I don’t care, I’m beautiful. I’m having a plastic surgeon install rotary blades, 30 mm cannons and AMG-114 Hellfire missiles on my body. From now on I want you guys to call me “Apache” and respect my right to kill from above and kill needlessly. If you can’t accept me you’re a heliphobe and need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding.
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.
To be honest I'm not the author of this hilarious parody. It's sort of a meme, Google the text and you'll find a ton of references.haahhaa i know im late but i just saw this thread. this is funny stuff.