Some words should never be spoken aloud….unless speaking them aloud is personally advantageous.
Once upon a tingle, I had gotten into a shouting match with a girl I was dating. As is the wont of her sex, she quickly wound herself up to a height of melodrama and hysteria on the flimsiest and stupidest of pretexts, emptying a deluge of emotion that was really about an old resentment having nothing to do with the reason given for her anger in the moment.
But the shrieking and carrying on had cracked my coolasfuckness. Even an Amused Master has a breaking point. My hand slashing the air between us, I growled,
“You don’t get it! I need you less than you need me.”
Boom, drop the shrike.
Now, my statement happened to be true, but it didn’t need to be true for it to hit her id dead center. A silence swept over her, lips trembling, eyes rattling in her sockets, and her face reddened, like a baby caught in a body-quaking anticipatory soundlessness just before unleashing a wicked wail.
But instead of corking off with a femme finale of righteous rage, she physically crumpled and loosed a bitter mewl…if that’s the way you feel about me….is that the way you feel?….cause that’s just an asshole thing to say….
Reading between the lines, I knew she was saying, “I’m not ready to let go of you, so I’ll step off this ledge I walked out on.” When a girl exhales a vulnerability like “cause that’s just an asshole thing to say”, you can be guaranteed two things: she hasn’t stopped loving you, and she needed to hear that from you.
The Game lesson is to remember “I need you less than you need me” by heart, because it’ll be useful if you spend any significant time with the furor sex. It’s a condensed and concentrated form of Dread Game, which when deployed will demoralize even the most combative girlfling. Your reward will be a renewed flowering of her adoring femininity…..for a while. Generally, though, the long term prognosis for relationships that have shared a vitriol to match in vitality any love that might be present isn’t promising. Rut and roam, gentlemen. You’ve only so much life to blow on poison giney.
Filed under: Game, Girls, Psy Ops, Relationships, Rules of Manhood, The Id Monster
