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There are a few answers to the question “How do I make a guy want me more?” and one is to act like you don’t care and have something and someone better to do.
I know this seems cliche, but trust me when I tell you that if the chase only lasts for a month, the guy will surely get bored and move on to the next conquest with a better tail.
But it is much harder than it sounds.
One would think if he is the right guy, then being sweet should attract and keep him, eventually leading to that sparkly ring on your finger (your hope is much bigger than all of your friends’.)
In the world we live in, people are all about the game. You are either winning or losing and being a pushover is a sure way to lose. You have to be a little bit of a mystery but not so much that he thinks you are not into him.
This is a dance I have not yet mastered, but I am open to lessons, especially if he looks like that hot back-up dancer for J. Lo.
A woman will lose interest if a guy is too forthcoming and at her doorstep in a moment’s notice with every shrill of a little creepy crawly in the corner of her room.
No one likes an overeager date. It is a turnoff. Do not suffocate. We need air.
In contrast, the old saying “When it rains, it pours” still rings true. For example, when you have two guys vying for your attention, there is always a third or a fourth who wants to join in the game. Am I right, ladies?
“A man wants to be
the man, so let him.”
If you want to attract him, you need to make him feel like you need him (even if you don’t). Being independent is great and being in a chase is good, but don’t be so independent that you seem like you wouldn’t need his help with said-bug in your room.
At the end, you do need (want) him to squish or free that bug. We all want someone.
A man wants to be the man, the provider and the leader, so let him be (especially in the beginning).
For example, I was on a date with my then-boyfriend when we started playing a game of basketball in a bar. I was wearing 5-inch heels and beat him (easily) the first game.
Judging by the look on his face, I backed off for the next two games and let him win. We then laughed that the first win was just purely luck (it made him feel important and more manly.)
At the end of the night, I could have beaten him in 6-inch heels with one arm tied behind my back, but I knew I should probably keep that information between my Manolos and me.
We walked out of the bar happy as clams, with him totally infatuated with me for another month (until I found out he was lying about who he really was, had no home and was sleeping on his sister’s couch, but that is an entirely new blog post, one where the Manolo came in handy for another reason).