Now I’d promised to tell more about Robert. He is a weasel looking little runt with huge corporate ambition and no business acumen whatsoever. He would often tell me he was interested in a job working in finance. While I said I would keep my eye out for jobs, there was no way I would ever place an ounce of my professional reputation on his abilities. He is completely loony and lacks any notion of social graces. Like I said, he is a pathetic and quite psychotic human being.
In the interim of Mila and I breaking up, I ran into him at a bar. The entertainment he provided and expensive drinks he insisted on buying me made it worth meeting up with him. Furthermore, he provided valuable intelligence. Problem is, his little mouth is constantly so busy spewing out crap that he doesn’t realise everyone else around him can hear the rubbish he’s spouting too.
This night, he was talking shit like usual.
“I was just never interested in girls growing up”, he said.
Probably cause his dick was too small to have any idea what to do with it, I thought.
“I was never interested in guys either” he hurriedly said, “I guess I was just kind of asexual”.
I wondered what every poor person sitting around us was thinking. He’d regularly talk crap about his boss and the people he worked with, so loudly that everyone sitting around us could hear, and so specifically that he could have been fired from his job by the next morning.
“You know, Mila’s been talking a lot about you”.
“Oh yeah, what’d she say?” I asked casually.
“She hasn’t been herself. She was a much happier person when she was with you. She hates how you guys let shit come in between you that you shouldn’t have”.
I let him ramble on, and made a final decision to get back with her. A couple of days later, she messaged me. She wanted to see me. This was my time to strike, and we made plans to go out. Heartiste correctly says:
One of the hardest feats to accomplish is re-igniting an ex-girlfriend’s attraction for you, especially if she initiated the breakup. Unlike guys, who are perfectly OK with return trips to the well no matter how dry, women have a no-looking-back switch that, when flipped, desexualizes the man she had spent months or years enslaving with her body…
Thankfully, this wasn’t the case. At the moment her logical brain had overpowered her hindbrain, so I just had to pass some ridiculous shit tests and reignite her carnal desires. Heartiste continues:
The key is in the timing. A mathematician has shown that the dumper’s loneliness and nostalgia for the broken relationship peak at about 3 weeks after the breakup, unless she has found another man in the interim. Therefore, your job is to let her go and not speak to her for 3 weeks. This will amplify her feelings of loss. Then, at her most vulnerable 3 weeks later, call to say hi. Keep the convo short and friendly. Chances are best right at this moment that she will offer to meet you for drinks.
You’ll notice the common denominator with these strategies. They only work if you do the OPPOSITE of what the typical guy would do. Very few men getting dumped would have the presence of mind to lay low and refrain from trying to talk her out of her decision. But that is exactly the winning formula. Your breezy indifference will win back more exes than all the post-breakup talks in the world. Lean back, reap your bounty, and if you’ve got the balls calmly tell her after the post-breakup violation of all her holes “Eh, you know, I shouldn’t have taken you back. This isn’t going to work.”
The plan was set. We were ready to meet up. Then she started acting flaky. I began to become furious at her actions. She was acting pathetically. Her games were getting to THIS POINT. I channelled my anger. I was about to message her once and for all to end it, when fate intervened. My phone screwed up, and by the time I turned it back on she had confirmed our plans.
Mila and I met up, and went to dinner. I was so nervous, that I actually couldn’t eat. My Vietnamese food went untouched. I was quite literally lovesick, and it almost made me nauseous.
As we left the restaurant, I put my arm around her. She reciprocated, and we walked to my car. I drove us a short distance to a lookout. In the car we uncontrollably began kissing. We got into the backseat, kissing, cuddling (oxytocin galore) and talking about how hard this was.
Deep down we both knew this was headed for disaster, but we couldn’t let each other go. Sometimes your connection with someone is so magnetic, so insatiable, that everything else feels fake. This scene in Like Crazy mirrors it well:
I just have to say one thing and it’s pretty important that you just listen to me. I just…it doesn’t feel like this…this thing is gonna go away, it’s always there. I can’t…I can’t get on with my life… the things that we have with each other that I don’t have with any other person. With any other human being apart from you. We should be with each other, and I feel it so strongly… I don’t wanna have regrets about us and we can make this work if we do that.
I told her we’d figure our differences out. But how were we meant to? She was a new-age hippie vegetarian Buddhist, and I was anything but.
I’ve heard the saying “Love is Sweeter the Second Time Around”. It was absolutely true with Mila. Here we were, completely happy together. She would message me and tell me that falling asleep in my arms was one of the best experiences of her life, and she was so happy waking up to my kisses. The first time we had sex again, I came with such force that I blew my load all over her face. Whoops.
At the same time, she started to shit test me like never before. I responded by upping the ante. Picking her up had been so easy that I’d never needed to run any game on her. I had plenty of game in the tank, and started to run it on her.