Dating and Relationship Advice – Why Being Yourself Doesn’t Work

Question: You should be ashamed of yourself! What you stand for and your advice to, “get women into bed,” is inexcusable. You are the perfect example of everything that is wrong with our society today. You have no respect for women or the human body. Your actions speak loudly and show the world that you’re an ugly person inside. I will pray for you and the people you infect with you vile information, so that their soul may be saved. Repent your ways or be cast into hell! We are all God’s creatures, he has a plan for every one of us. Just be yourself, believe in the Lord, and when the time is right he will introduce you to your life partner. No gimmicks, no tricks.

Praying for you,

Linda Q.

Answer: Linda, those are some strong words, and while most hate mail I receive just makes me laugh, you actually brought up a valid point in your rant. “You should just be yourself and in time you will find your soul mate.”

What a crock of shit that statement is, yet this is probably the most common piece of advice you will ever hear from your friends and family about dating and finding the “one for you.” But why is this line repeated so often? It’s because it’s the same piece of advice that’s passed down from generation to generation about dating, “Oh things didn’t work out between the two of you because you weren’t meant to be.” How many times have you heard that before? We tell each other this crap so we can feel better about ourselves as to why things didn’t work out, but also because nobody knows any decent dating advice to give to you. Your friends that are married were lucky. The stars aligned in their favor and they were able to find the one for them, but you’re still alone, still looking, still waiting, and having to listen to everyone’s crap about how to get a date.

The average reader on this site is between 25 and 45, been on very few dates, average about one to three girlfriends in their life, and may or may not still be a virgin. (hard to believe, but it happens) They experience more success with women after one to two months of applying our methods, then they have their entire life. Why is that? Because they realized that by being themselves, they were failures with women, over and over again. They fail not because they’re bad guys, but because they don’t know how to display the qualities that women find attractive. No one ever sat them down and told them how to act around women. We’re all sent out in the world and get to find out for ourselves what women want.  Some get it right away, while others never will. They continue to struggle and never learn what works because after every failure they’re told, “Things just weren’t meant to be,” or “She wasn’t the one for you, be patient and you will find her.” But just how long are you willing to wait? Until your 40 or 50 years old? I don’t think so.

That’s why just being yourself doesn’t work. Being yourself hasn’t worked for you yet, and as long as you continue that path, it will never work. The only thing you can do is make a change in your life. What’s the worst that can happen? You can’t get any worse around women, so any advice at this point is better than, just be yourself.

Here at, Phicklephilly, we don’t want to change you into something you’re not. If your idea of a Friday night is getting together with a group of guys and playing D&D until 4 in the morning, by all means, enjoy yourself. But what these people are lacking is the skills and the confidence around women. They don’t know the hidden signals that women are giving off to them. They don’t know how to tell if that girl next to them is attracted to them or not. They don’t know when they should make a move, how to start a conversation, or go in for a kiss, or ask for her phone number because nobody ever told them how to do all that.

I teach our readers what to look out for, how to act, and how to incorporate this new confidence into their personality, because ultimately their personality is what the cute blonde will be attracted to. No tricks, no gimmicks, those are only used to start that initial conversation, so that we can show the girl our true selves and make a genuine connection. A connection that might eventually lead to a relationship. And wouldn’t you rather be the one in control, making those decisions about who you want to date, who to be with, rather than wait around and let her come to you. If that was how things worked, because you have no experience around women, you’ll blow it when you finally do meet the one.  But go ahead and wait. If you choose to wait, be prepared to do so for a long time, even in today’s world, the man is still expected to make that all important first move. If you don’t ever learn how to make that move, the “one” may just pass you by.

 

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Wildwood Daze – Summer of 1977 – Terri – First Love – Part 4

Whats great about this is… taking a photograph freezes time. Time is fluid. Always changing. But in this moment I still have not only the memory, but an image from my past frozen in time forever.

The next morning was overcast. I was feeling sick. Not a head cold, but actually physically ill. I didn’t know at the time but I sort of knew. This week I had felt the rush of first love wash over me like the sea itself. Warm, soft waves carrying me aloft in euphoric bliss.

And now the crushing reality that my love was leaving to go home today. I was nauseous. This was a mix of anxiety and depression twisting together in my gut like a ball python.

Terri and her family were packing up the car, and I went to say goodbye. I took a seat and her brother took a photo of us together. I’m broken in the picture. She looks lovely, laughing at life.

I kiss her goodbye and I know something has changed in me. I will live with this for the rest of my life. I’ll carry Terri’s memory like a tear inside my heart.

Their station wagon rolls out of the parking lot and she’s gone. I go into the office and tell my boss that’s I’m sick. I don’t know if he senses what’s really wrong with me, and as I write this I wish I knew. He gets some pepto bismol, (A pink liquid that you drink and it’s suppose to settle your stomach) He administers a tablespoon like a parent. I take it and I know it’s not going to work. He tells me to just go home if I’m sick. I thank him, and walk behind the motel and proceed to vomit the pink liquid into the grass.

I’m ruined inside.

I walk west on 10th street. I was afraid to go home because I thought if my mom found out I didn’t work I was screwing up again. I was just love-sick. I cross Surf, Atlantic and get to Central Avenue. I walked to the middle of the block and sit down on the curb. I look down into the dirt on the street. There’s a colony of tiny ants just going about their day in Wildwood. gathering food, tending to young, and building shelter. Completely unaware that they live on a 5 mile island packed with 5000 tourists, and the Atlantic Ocean is just 5 blocks away. They’ve never seen the boardwalk and all its wonder, or ever met a girl, and fallen in love in a week and felt the heartbreak of loss almost in 24 hours. They’re just doing their thing.

Living.

I start to cry.

Is this what love is? Chance, euphoria, anxiety, exhilaration and then crushing sadness?

I didn’t know that at the time, because this was my maiden voyage into the foray of love, but this was to be my litany for the next 40 years. A cycle of highs and lows that would hunt me like a wolf through middle age. A drug I would crave only to become an addict that was always trying to get clean from the rush of love. But I would relapse again and again with different women. The thing I loved most would ruin my life. I would lay upon beauty and it would dash me to the ground and grind me into powder.

Again and again.

And it would all be by my own hand.

Terri and I kept in touch for the next year through letters. That’s what people did back then. They took pen to paper and wrote down their thoughts and feelings to another person. Then they sealed it in an envelope, addressed it, put a stamp on it, and dropped it in a mailbox. Three to five days later the other person got that letter, read it and then in good time responded with the same. Hard to believe that’s how it was done for hundreds of years. Now you can simply text, “Hey.”

I still have those letters. I’m going to dig them out and read them if I can. I’m sure it’ll provide me with some insight to this journey.

I recently uncovered this photo. It was taken of us the day she left. I had to tape the two pieces back together because I cut me out of the photo and carried her picture around in my wallet for a year. Here’s that old photo, and what she wrote on the back when she sent it to me in her first letter! (Look at that lovely girl!)

My first love.

Whats great about this is… taking a photograph freezes time. Time is fluid. Always changing. But in this moment I still have not only the memory, but an image from my past frozen in time forever.

 

I cut the photo in half so I could carry Terri with me in my wallet after she left.

Here’s what was written on the back of that photo.

Here’s a bracelet she sent me.

I wore it every day for over a year.

 

Take it away boys…

 

 

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