The Center of Attention
She's only happy when she's the star attraction, the top of the bill. She is also the most talkative woman you've ever met, always steering the conversation back around to herself. You have to laugh at her jokes, and listen to her stories. She goes on and on about how great she is, how great/bad her family is, yadda yadda yadda.
It's all about her.
Other than her need to have the spotlight all the time, and putting on a convincing display of self-assurance, it's widely known that the Center of Attention is really the same as Low Self-Esteem Chick. She needs this attention because she isn't feeling good unless other people are letting her know that she's valuable. The Center of Attention is only acting out her need for approval in a way that is easy to recognize.
You'll find the Center of Attraction difficult to talk with, mostly because the conversation will rarely come back to you. You do want her talking as much as possible so that she feels the focus is on her, but you might find it tough to steer the conversation in such a way that you maintain control. Seduction is interactive. You'll have the same challenge as you would with a blabbermouth. She won't let you talk long enough to say anything.
Instead of fighting for control of the conversation, which is an easy trap to fall into, you want to guide her back to the topics that suit you. What you'll have to do is demonstrate complete attention to her, while also planning for your opening when it comes along. Don't answer any questions she throws at you, but steer her into something exciting to talk about. Wait for your break.
Her: "And blabba blab blabba blab blab blab ... sister... blab blab blabba blab ... money... blabb blabba blab ... What do you think I should do?"
You: "I think you should tell me if you really want to talk about your sister or if you'd like to know what your palm told me when you shook my hand. Would you like to know your future?"
That's an excellent way to use a slight pattern interrupt to steer her onto the next topic, something charged that will allow you to continue moving forward with the seduction. If you deliver it with enough mystery, she will definitely take you up on your offer.
Sometimes you have to leap forward and try something ballsy to either pull her in or push her out.
If you find that you cannot control the conversation, or that she is an unstoppable big mouth, you should probably consider moving on. Trying to seduce her will be like trying to herd cats. You'll go nuts in the process.
Anatomy of a Seduction
I am going to give you the point-by-point breakdown of an actual seduction performed with a target who was what most men consider a 9.5 on a scale of 1 to 10. This example is being given to ensure that you understand how these tactics work on real live women, and that you believe that it does not require you to either wimp out (write her love poetry and lick her shoes) or that you have to be a GQ model with a Ferrari or a lot of money. (Just for your knowledge, Mark, in this account, is not a GQ model, nor does he have a fancy car - it's a Jeep Cherokee.)
Note: This is a true account, though, "Mark" and "Betty" are not their real names. I have transcribed the events from an interview with Mark, a close friend of mine. I am also familiar with Betty, and verified the account with her over drinks.
First some background on the target, Betty:
Betty was a former co-worker who I had interacted with many times before. She and I had flirted, but at no time had I ever let on a sexual interest in her. Betty was five foot nine, blonde, and about 110 pounds. She was petite, and very intelligent. She had the body most of the stick-bug models would kill for, and she rarely exercised to keep it that way. She was also extremely arrogant and defensive, which made for some interesting arguments along the way. We would regularly get into contentious discussions about how something should or shouldn't be done at work, and there were times when she ended up storming out of my office, or lashing out in a public meeting. She was what you'd call the textbook definition of "bitch," but it got her what she wanted from other people. In the end, she and I would always come back around to talking again, usually by the next day. She would even drop hints about not wanting to
"dip her pen in the company ink" from time to time, as if to acknowledge that there was some workplace sexual tension.
Betty had some mother issues (not unusual for women as a whole, but this case was pretty obvious.) They obviously had never gotten along, and there was some long-running issues with the rest of her family. So I knew there were some pretty typical self-esteem issues at work with her. Betty also knew she was gorgeous, and flaunted her sexuality with every man she came in contact with. We would often talk about her search for a boyfriend on the Internet, and I saw first hand how every single guy she met screwed up with her from the start. Many of them would send her flowers on the first date, or even before the first date. Others appeared to bow to her every whim. It was entertaining to watch most of the time.
After a while, she was laid off from our company, and I felt a breath of relief. But I also knew I'd miss seeing that perky butt of hers wiggle by my office window every morning. We reconnected via email a few months later, and I told her we needed to hook up for some drinks. She agreed, and we set a time for it on that Friday.
On the night of the seduction date, I knew I was ready for this situation. First of all, I was seeing a couple other women, so I had my bets hedged. This meant that I could go into this date without caring about whether or not I got anything. In fact, I kept her negative qualities up on the front of my mind so that I even went into it with an obvious attitude of reluctance. I didn't need sex or attention from her, and that kept me at a challenging distance. I also had a sure-thing date lined up the next night, so I knew I wouldn't have any problems being satisfied that weekend. (Remember, keep a consolation prize.) It was a lot more relaxing to know that, no matter what happened, I was taken care of. I was in charge of my own good time.
We met at a cocktail bar in San Francisco, a trendy little place in the SOMA area of the city. She was already talking with some other guys when I met up with her, which I made sure to let her know did not bother me one bit. We broke off and ordered a couple drinks and started talking, catching up a bit on what had been going on in our lives. I also made it clear that I wouldn't indulge in a lot of negative gossip.
One of Betty's personality traits is that she likes to stir controversy while demonstrating at the same time that she's superior because of her intelligence. I smiled when she would make catty comments and always questioned her about her assumptions.
"So, I hear that Brad isn't going to get the region when they reorganize," she said, knowing full well that Brad was a very good friend of mine that I worked with. He had turned Betty down for a dating relationship some time back. "That sort of figures, doesn't it?"
I took a sip of my drink and paused. "Really? Hmm. What makes you say that?"
She scrambled to justify her observation. "Well, I mean, after all, he just doesn't have what it takes to do it. He's just not that smart. Those guys from New York will cut him up."
I smiled and took another sip. I waited for the silence to become almost too much to bear. She finally broke it with her impatience. "Don't you agree? You know what I mean, right?"
I shrugged. "No, I don't. I think he's got a lot of promise. John in New York especially likes Mark's understanding of the climate here in California." I waited a beat. "And it sounds like you might have a little chip on your shoulder."
"Me? What do you mean I have a chip on my shoulder.?"
"Are you getting excited? You seem upset."
Betty has a good covering of freckles, but I could see her turning red behind them. I was getting a kick out of this.
"Well, you two were always close, anyway." She put on a sour look, which I ignored, as she changed the subject. I kept a calm expression of tranquility. I wasn't afraid of losing her approval, which was something she was not used to. I'm sure most of the guys she dated would be afraid at this point that they'd upset their chances with the Princess.
Over the next hour or so, we had a few more drinks, loosening her up. Eventually, without my hinting at it, she suggested we get some dinner at a restaurant in the neighborhood that she liked. I agreed, but I told her I'd have to see the menu first before I made a decision. We paid the bar tab and left.
The restaurant was a few blocks away, and we talked as we walked. I made sure to keep my conversation as intellectually stimulating for her as possible, but also as controversial, that way I could be sure to disagree with her on many points. I knew that if I let her think I was going along with her too much, she'd lose interest. I was sure that every guy she ever dated was so into kissing her ass that she never had to hear a contrary thought, and that kind of interaction is an absolute seduction killer. Betty thrived on the competition and banter, and it had to be kept interesting as well. What I found with her personality type (which is common among beautiful women who are used to getting their way) is that when she no longer had a leg to stand on and could not logically win her point, she would resort to more subtle and manipulative methods to try and win. Some of her favorites:
"Yeah, men always say that sort of thing, don't they?"
These are great deflection strategies, which put you on the defense and stir up a bunch of dust in the air so that you forget that she's left the original conversation. Or, another tactic she used would be to suddenly change sides of her argument and make my reasoning sound like I had switched sides, when in fact she had. Betty had some great tactics. It only served to demonstrate how defensive her psychology had become.
In either case, when her conversational defenses appeared it was a warning that she was feeling backed into a corner, and when Betty got cornered, her claws came out. I had also learned that this was a losing tactic, but I did know how far I could push her back before I had to let her get away. By getting her angry, I knew I was also getting her emotions heated.
We eventually ended up at the restaurant Betty had chosen, after I let her think that I was talked into it. This was a nice place, just south of Market Street in San Francisco. We put ourselves on the waiting list, and we ordered a couple more drinks to keep ourselves socially lubricated. We talked some more about what she was planning to do with her life, and Betty seemed to be letting down some of her bitchy guard with me. (I had also learned that she could be worn down with patience. It takes a woman a lot of energy to maintain a strong mask of defense. Eventually, she will let the mask down, even if only from fatigue.)
We got our table and ordered a few appetizers as well as our dinners. I made sure to hear what she recommended, and then ordered something else. (I did let her get away with choosing the appetizers, with a little input.) I wanted to keep showing her that I would act on my own direction, and that she wouldn't be able to control my behavior or me.
We talked some more, and I used a lot of subtle seduction talk to get her interest and curiosity started. At one point, she was looking at me with an obvious attraction, and I asked her what she was thinking.
She said, "I just thought how interesting it was that we ended up here. Like this."
"What do you mean?" I asked. I knew exactly what she was leading up to, but I wanted to make sure she said it out loud.
"Just that here we are, hanging out together on a Friday. Just a couple of friends. It's ... nice."
I sensed that she was eager to label the situation, to tell me what she wanted to make of things, and that she also wanted to see if she could get me to reveal more interest by telling her if I agreed to the "friends" part. I thought it was time to hint at more.
"Is that all you're interested in, Betty?" I asked. "Friends?"
"Well. isn't that what you want?" As usual, she was going to duck the answer, trying to put me on the spot by turning it around. Another female tactic to avoid having to be held accountable.
I said, "I'm not interested in any more 'friends.' I've got a lot of those, and not that you're not good enough to be one. I just know there's more than meets the eye."
She put on one of her fake expressions of surprise.
"Really?" she said. "Me? And You? I didn't know you'd thought about us that way."
"I didn't say I did. But you know you want more than that, don't you?"
"I ... just didn't know you thought that way."
What she was really doing was thinking and wondering, hoping that I'd verbally confirm her suspicions. But I also knew that what I'd had going for me all along was that I presented an incredible challenge to her. I was never in her back pocket, and I never worshipped her the way some of the other guys at work did. I couldn't stop now, but I could relax it a little.
Hope with a little doubt, as they say, creates passion.
We ate dinner and flirted with possibility in our words and looks. We ordered a dessert and shared it, and that's when she sprang her "idea" on me.
"You know, I don't live too far from here. Maybe we could get a movie or something to watch." She threw in a lure: some great wine she wanted me to try. I said it depended on the movie she wanted to see. We talked over a few possibilities, then we agreed to go to the local video shack to see what was out there.
We paid and left the restaurant. Then we walked a few blocks back to where she lived. The video store was right around the corner, and we started comparing movie ideas. Eventually she mentioned a love of old movies (which I do, too.) She asked if I'd ever seen the old version of "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir." I said I'd hadn't. "However," I said, "I need to make sure I'm not getting into a chick-flick situation here." I pretended to read the video case carefully, looking for those chick-flick indicators. After joking with
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her a little more, I said that would be fine. We checked it out and went back to her apartment.
She was sharing a small apartment with a guy, but they were not romantically involved, she told me. I acted like I couldn't care if she was going down on him every week to pay her rent. I knew that if I expressed any jealousy, it could only undermine my posture. When women smell jealousy, it's like blood in the water to a shark. They know where your insecurity is, and precisely how to reach it.
We opened the wine she had been bragging about, and I teased her that it was pretty decent for an "inferior vintage." We took the wine and movie back to her room and sat down to watch it.
As it turns out, her movie was a bit of a "chick-flick," but it was tolerable since it was an old fashioned story that promoted a different kind of dynamic between the lead man and woman, and very much more real than today's romantic comedies. I also went easy on teasing her during the movie since she had told me that it was her "favorite movie of all time." We were sitting on a small couch in her bedroom nestled close together. Her room was cold, and so I made sure she got out a blanket for us to huddle under. All during the movie, I also made sure she felt my body next to her, and I would occasionally brush her leg with my hand, or nudge her with my elbow - some gentle kino. Betty was very reserved, though, and I knew she'd play her hard-to-get game as far as she could. She wanted me to make the first move to show my interest. So I kept holding it back from her. Just as she was getting the thought I might lean over and kiss her, I would wink at her and focus back on the movie (without making it look like I was chickening out). By the time it was over, I knew she was suitably aroused.
(Also, all during the movie, I saw a total transformation in her personality. She had dropped the Bitchy Smart Woman persona and was now the Giggly Little Girl. She tried to be as cute and girlish as she could, laughing in a high-pitched cutesy way. I could tell she was working some kind of "please, seduce me" routine, which was suggesting that there would be no resistance. It's at times like this that I actually get as much pleasure from drawing out the anticipation as I do from getting the success.)
By the time the movie was done, it was after 1:00 AM, and I knew I'd never make the last bus in time. Or, so I told her. It would be too expensive to take a cab, she said. So we agreed that I could stay there. "But no funny business!" I warned her. "This is probably some kind of trap you've laid."
We got into bed and talked for a while, and I kept drawing it out for her as much as I could. At some point when we were just touching each other. Rubbing each other's backs and such, I realized that Betty was one of those women that just wanted to be a Scarlett O' Hara from "Gone With The Wind." She wanted her manly Clark Gable to come along and sweep her off her feet. Seduction for her was merely opening the door to me and closing her eyes so that she could indulge herself in the sensual pleasure.
After that came our first kiss, and I decided we had waited long enough. I slipped my hands down into her pajama bottoms to finally grab hold of that tight little butt she'd been shaking past my office for over a year ...
We didn't get a lot of sleep that night.
Continue reading here: What Worked
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