[X&Y] Can You Get Just ONE Woman To Like You?

Published: Fri, 07/04/14



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IN THIS EDITION:  Have you ever had even ONE woman like you...ever?
If not, call me immediately because we've got to change that ASAP.
But if you have--at any point in history, even just once--this
newsletter is for you...

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IF YOU CAN JUST GET ONE WOMAN TO LIKE YOU...


I have to admit something to you.  I almost changed the title of
this, mostly because there is a very real possibility you're
already thinking I'm about to write about something completely
different than what I actually intend to address.

After all, there's plenty of mainstream dating advice out there
that repeats a common theme:  "All it takes is one." 

I've even heard certain guys whose work I respect otherwise utter
that one.

And granted, for some people--men and women alike--it's kind of
true.

If they've had little success at meeting and attracting MOTOS
(members of the opposite sex) in the past, then once they actually
meet someone then they can breathe a sigh of relief.

So for the loneliest of the lonely out there, hearing "all it takes
is ONE person" is just the pep talk they think they need.

Notice I used the word "they" in the previous couple of paragraphs
instead of "you".

You see, I have what I believe to be a far more interesting outlook
on that "one woman who likes you" concept than what I just
described. 

I mean after all, you know by now that I'm the last guy on Earth
who is ever going to find "settling" acceptable for me, for you or
for anyone else.  

To be sure, "all it takes is one" is the title of a recipe for
"settling"...and that, my man, ain't "comfort food".

So forget for now the mantra that says, "If you can get ONE woman
to like you, that's all you need."

Instead, here's a different way of looking at the world:  If you
can get ONE woman to like you, I can 100% ASSURE you that there are
others out there who will also.

And they're of equal quality, or even better.

Have you ever thought about it that way?

Admittedly, doing so involved getting outside your head and
thinking like a man who is in control of his own destiny instead of
one who is at the whim of whatever happens around him.

Back when I was in high school, I generally assumed (like most guys
my age, it turns out) that most of the girls couldn't possibly like
me.  

Then one day, this incredibly cute blondie named Cathy walked up to
me at soccer practice.

I'd seen her in the hallways...and in my dreams at night.  And now
here she was, out of nowhere coming over to talk to ME. 

The fact that she was dressed in her field hockey outfit made
things all the more intense. 

For those of you not blessed to have gone to a school with either
field hockey or lacrosse teams for the girls, let's just say that
outfitting the right girl with a ponytail and a kilt in combination
with Adidas cleats trumps a cheerleader uniform...almost every time.

Cathy was one of the cutest girls my 17-year-old mind had ever
comprehended.  And to this day, she probably still doesn't know
that.

Why?

Well, as it turns out, Cathy didn't come talk to me about herself.
And in retrospect, how crazy of an expectation would that have been
of a 16-year-old girl anyway?

Instead, she looked at me with her big green eyes and pouty little
smile and said, "Um...excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute,
Scot?"

For starters, there was just something about how she sort of
called me "Scaw-at" instead of "Scot".  Don't these girls know how
cute that is when they do that?

Dumbfounded, I responded "Hurry...you're sixty seconds are ticking
away" or "Only if you bought me something really nice."

Nah, I'm just kidding.  Actually, it was more like, "Duh...
ummm...ah...[voice cracking and barely audible] yeah...I mean,
um...sure, YEAH."

Cathy smiled brightly, turned and gestured toward the field hockey
practice field about a hundred yards away, as if such an ever-
present distraction needed pointing out.

"Oh good!  Do you know who my friend Christa is?"

Scrambling, I feigned ignorance (the default mode of a guy with zero
game, by the way), and stumbled over the words, "Uhhh...I'm not
sure.  Maybe not."

I lied. 

Christa was Cathy's friend.  Basically the brown-haired version of
her, only with big, bright blue eyes instead of green ones and an
even more irresistibly spunky personality. 

Had I been more creative than most sixteen-year-old boys back in
1983 I may have dreamed of both Cathy AND Christa at night.

Instead, no thanks to my conventional Western mindset, they had to
take turns.

"Well, she kinda likes you.  Omigod, she'd like KILL me if she knew
I was telling you this--but I think you should talk to her.
OK...bye!"

She gave me that little wave with the middle two fingers that girls
her age do, then skipped back over to field hockey practice.

With the fog of what had just happened not having lifted yet, it
failed to occur to me how silly it was that Christa wouldn't have been
aware that her best friend was 100 yards away talking to me, and
how therefore she must have been directly behind putting Cathy up
to talking to me.

So what did I do instead?

I waited a full two weeks before getting the nerve to approach
Christa, somehow rationalizing and over-analyzing the open
invitation I'd been given.

TWO HONKIN' WEEKS, dude.

But when I DID finally meet her, and suggested we hang out sometime,
she giggled and said, "Okay, sure!  I was wondering when you were
ever going to talk to me...I thought maybe you didn't like me."

I'm telling you...even from an early age, female human beings want
US AS GUYS to take the lead.

So Christa became my steady girlfriend...almost immediately.

Having somehow "lucked" into my situation, so I reasoned, I wasn't
ABOUT to let that little chick go.

Soon I obsessed over her, ultimately to the point where she called
me one night after about five months of all this and told me,
"Um...I think we should break up.  But we can still be friends."

We've been over the "Just Be Friends" talk and how "oneitis" causes
it time after time around there.  There's no need to reiterate that.

Instead, here's the real point in this context:  I had automatically
assumed that only PURE LUCK had caused Christa to like me. 

Since it apparently had nothing to do with any REAL reason why a
girl would be attracted to me, it followed logically in my mind
that this was an isolated instance that I'd better milk for all it
was worth.

So when she liked me, I grabbed hold and wouldn't let go.

And when she ditched me, I was a babbling mess in need of
psychiatric help.

But here's the truly weird part.

A couple of days later, I called a girl from another nearby high
school who I had met on a weekend trip a few months prior. 

She had given me her number (probably because she actually liked
me).  Now that Christa had bailed on me, I used it.

This particular girl was another spunky, smiley little blondie with
sparkling green eyes, like Christa's friend Cathy...only she was
named Stacey. 

Stacey was at least as cute as either Christa or Cathy.  Go figure.

But the greatest irony of all was that she said "YES"
enthusiastically when I suggested we should meet and spend some
time together.

I felt flat-out stupid for having thought Christa was my only
option.

And let me tell you, stupidity morphed into flat-out nausea when I
read what some other girls wrote in my yearbook after graduation
my senior year. 

Clearly, I had squandered MANY, MANY opportunities with very cute
girls all throughout high school.

One of these days I should take digital photos of pages from my
senior yearbook, post them on Facebook and let you guys throw
rotten veggies at me and laugh your collective butts off.

You'd see what I'm talking about plain as day.  That's how
BLATANTLY DUMB I'd been.

Why did I let that happen?  Because I didn't think any of them
could possibly REALLY like me.

But all the while the truth had been that Christa wasn't a fluke.

She was a perfectly rational girl, able to decide for herself what
guy she likes and why. 

So were (and are) the others out there.

In fact, it's safe to assume that ALL women are, no matter whether
they're 16 or 116, or anywhere in between.  (Well, 116 is pushing
it, but you get my point.)

Guys, here it is:  If ONE woman likes you, there ARE OTHERS out
there who will also.

Bet on it.

Roll the dice and bet BIG on it.

"Luck" has nothing to do with it, actually. 

If you are attractive to the FIRST woman who comes along, there
WILL be a SECOND. 

And a THIRD.

And a FOURTH.

I already hear some of the excuses you might have.

Save them.

I realize not EVERY woman is going to like you.  That's not an
excuse, that's human nature.

In fact, at least one of my friends back in high school used to be
quick to tell me, "Dude, Christa's not all THAT, man."

His girlfriend was a completely different kind of girl, so it was
all good.  To each his own.

But Christa didn't really care what he thought, as far as I could
tell.  And neither did I.

And nor should you care what those who AREN'T attracted to you
think.

The point remains:  If ONE woman likes you, OTHERS will too. 

In fact, they probably already do.

If you've had at least one woman show interest in you recently,
you're CHEATING YOURSELF by considering that as having been a
"freakish accident".

And hey, looking back, was the LAST time a woman liked you a LONG
time ago?

All THAT means is that YOU HAVE IT IN YOU.

You just have to put aside what's happened recently and GO BACK AND
GET what's rightfully yours.

Maybe you are even brash enough to think that NO woman has EVER
liked you.

If that's the case, you've either been blind to how women indicate
their subtle interest in you or you've completely neglected your
social skills and or personal hygiene.  And that, my friend, isn't
any woman's fault.

My point is that NO MATTER WHAT, you should have at one point or
another experienced at least ONE woman having shown interest in you.

And that means that you should understand yourself as being
INTERESTING to OTHER WOMEN out there also.

Keep your eyes open for the women out there who are digging you.


Be Good,

Scot McKay


P.S.  I'm fully aware that some of you reading this are women and
you like hearing about what a great man should look like. 

(Note to guys:  TONS of women have written me to tell me that what
we talk about in this newsletter is THE YARDSTICK by which they
judge exactly that--how's that for a thought?) 

So with all that in mind, I wanted to make sure to remind you that
Emily has a newsletter also. 

It's written for the ladies, but the same thing's going on over
there that's going on here:  Guys subscribe to get a handle on what
quality women think about. 

No matter who you are, send a blank e-mail to "emily@aweber.com"
to automatically subscribe.  You can unsubscribe anytime with a
single click, like you can for most newsletters out there nowadays.




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