A Sociopath’s Guide To Female Rejection

No doubt the number one reason men hesitate to approach women in public is the fear of rejection. This fear, however, can be quelled simply through strategic preparation, quick reaction times and a little bit of luck. Here, the most common ways in which you’ll be shut down, followed by often elaborate and always successful responses to each. “I have a boyfriend.” – This may or may not be true, but that doesn’t matter. Simply respond matter-of-factly, “yeah, I know I’m you’re boyfriend, idiot.” She may think you’re being cheeky and play along, but persist: whenever she eventually tries to “get real,” act offended and tell her to stop messing around. Continue until you’re forced to explicitly state, “I’m your boyfriend, what’s wrong with you?” They key is to throw her into a total mind-fuck where she thinks she’s dipping into insanity. To help this along, contract someone you know to approach her and pretend to be her friend, going on about how she left her keys at their place the previous night. Shit, get everyone at the bar to wish her Happy Birthday, Improv Everywhere style. Eventually, she’ll genuinely believe she’s had a stroke or something, and that you’re the only person she can trust to help her recall her real life. It’s like The Borne Identity, but more molesty.“I just got out of a serious relationship.” – The fact that she’s admitted this means, more than that she isn’t interested in you, that she simply wants to talk about her break-up the whole night, and she’s gauging if you’re an acceptable victim for such torture. Passionately encourage the dialog, but every time she mentions her ex-boyfriend, fart. Oh yeah, try to eat a buttload of gassy food beforehand. Then, clench you asshole like goddamn Iron Fist until she ever says her ex-boyfriends name. Pavlov will lend his hand, and suddenly she’ll associate her ex with putrid airborne shit particles. It’s foolproof. “I’m a lesbian.” – Laugh and apologize sincerely. Turn to walk away, and then pause momentarily, in sudden revelation. Remark at such a bizarre coincidence, as your sister just came out and is looking to start dating. Exchange numbers. Fly to Thailand and receive last-minute sex reassignment surgery. Seduce, court and marry said lesbian. After spending years living together, confess feelings of gender dysphoria. Receive second sex reassignment surgery with loving support of wife. Upon seeing the new (old) you, she’ll experience moment of realization. Explain that you “did it all for her.” Bang with new penis made of old clitoris made of old penis.“I’m just trying to have a girls’-night-out.” – Nod knowingly, and remark under your breath as you turn away that you didn’t figure her as the “slave to patriarchy” type. When she asks what you mean, launch into a brief but detailed “history” of girls’-night-outs. Explain that it was created by misogynistic marketing execs for beer companies in order to get women out of the house so that men could gamble, bang hookers and drink together. Name-drop feminist scholars like Judith Butler and Andrea Dworkin as suggesting that the ultimate end to patriarchy begins with the elimination of the girls’-night-out. If she cares at all about gender equality, she’ll let you raw-dog it in the bathroom stall. “My dog just died.” – “Well we better have a funeral… doggy-style.” Fuck the dog.

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