She says the movie looks dumb; you suddenly agree. She tests you with a little attitude; you apologize for nothing.
You think you're being easy to get along with. She reads something else entirely: a man with no edges. Nothing to hold on to. No friction, no tension, no reason to wonder what he really thinks.
The "22 Rules" taught me to push back — playfully, calmly, without needing her approval. Strange things happened after that.
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.
Worst advice ever...MacAvoy said:I wouldn't or I would reply I'm busy. Don't get into txt'ing with women, its the devil's candy. They can get into convos without you ever being able to call them out. They can ignore you but if you ignore them, your an azz,
Just don't use it with them.
Ha, that all depends on the phone you have. I have a full keyboard so texting is no problem. I'll tell ya what, ever since I got my new phone with the full keyboard my opinion of texting has gone way up.Nikos75 said:Texting? Who's got the time to write in these tiny phone-keyboards.
Just call her and arrange to meet her soon after her work- or better yet, go and pick her up. Say that you've got plans to reward her for having to suffer at work.
This way she'll be anticipating seeing you instead of being bored.
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.
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.