A Female Player's Strategy: The Preemptive Strike
I recently had a discussion on my Loveawake dating site blog page about enlisting what she termed is a “preemptive strike”. She’d begun seeing a man who was dating etiquette bankrupt. We all know the type- rudely stringing her along, dodging calls and texts and acting aloof and “unavailable”.
I’ve performed the preemptive strike ritual many times and any woman who knows how the gears turn in a jerkoff’s power-hungry fantasy world is unafraid and unhesitant to employ it- as a means of balancing out the disproportionate surpluses and deficits leading up to the relationship’s eventual demise.
The preemptive strike is a series of events that can be used alone or in tandem, that are guaranteed to eliminate a man’s intent to humiliate a woman by maneuvering her around by the nose like a worn out joy stick- while giving him the iron fist in a velvet glove treatment he needs right in his collective gonads. Guys, we don’t do this because we enjoy being assholes (like you do), we do it because we’re sick of wasting our precious fucking time on you because it’s pretty clear you don’t want us that bad anyway.
Men (women do it to men too) who toy with a woman’s affections and leave her dangling like an alien sock midway 5 stories up on a clothesline do it for a number of reasons:
- They’re used to getting everything they want from women they don’t want.
- They want to claim for themselves the biggest ego boner in the history of the world.
- They are doing it to be assholes as a strategy of manipulation.
- They don’t have the consideration, balls or decency to tell us they no longer want to have anything to do with us.
To the asshole-type guys stomping on our toes in the preliminary dating stages- if you’re foolish enough to approach a woman who is a seasoned player in this game, do so at your own peril. You may just bite off more than you can chew and in all likelihood, you deserve it.
Variations of the preemptive strike include:
Knowing We Have Many Other Options at Our Disposal
Dear Unconscionable Emotional Bereft IQ Guy,
I hate to break it to you but, you’re not the only man out there who wants to spend time with us. But in truth, you don’t give a shit regardless otherwise you wouldn’t resort to ignoring us like you do those month-old stained drawers gathered in a pile in the corner of your bedroom. We know that there are lots of other men who’d be happy to treat us the way we deserve and you acting purposefully indiscriminate and unkind towards us just makes them appear that much more appealing.
As soon as you stop taking my calls, I start taking notes. Shortly thereafter, I start examining other options and it won’t be long before I’ll get excited enough to leave you behind to start pursuing them. In the end it’s your loss and my gain- because I’m still going to have a damn great time without you.
Seeing a Relationship For What it Really is Sans False Hope and Empty Promises
I know that what I have to bring to the table is a million times more reliable than anything you could ever accidentally happen upon in the structure of your DNA. That’s the beauty of seeing the truth when it involves skillfully employing the preemptive strike- I see the handwriting on the wall and I’m armed to the teeth with the guts, know-how and the arbitrary determination to venture down that fork in the road and wind up someplace much better off without you.
The preemptive strike serves me in ways that allow me to preserve that special part of myself that I know will always be off limits to people like you. A preemptive strike against you treating me like a disposable rag is my best ally- that’s why you’re standing there with your balls out looking confused- while I’m standing here knowing exactly what you’re up to. You may be able to hide it from all those other women, but I can see crystal clear right through all your bullshit.
Seeing Someone Else Who’s Actually Interested in Seeing Us
While you’re off drunk somewhere texting a bunch of other girls you consistently toss in the dead duck pile, I have a man (maybe even a few) who is calling me faithfully everyday, who wants to show me off to his bros at annual family function-type reunion barbeques, and has a huge thing for me because of the way I sit and read the morning newspaper with my glasses on and just his t-shirt.
This man knows a good thing when he sees its- and it’s really unfortunate that you don’t. Believe me, he knows a lot more about me than you do and he knows that’s what makes him a smart and lucky man. And it’s what inevitably makes you a nobody, nowhere to me occurring at no real time in history.
The Cold Turkey Cut Off Point- No Questions Asked
Morgana knows what’s up. So do I. It doesn’t take the slinging sleight of hand to drop me like a hot potato a few dozen times on my head before I’m going to understand that this thing you’re attempting to wipe your ass with is destined to die- along with any memory of you and any lingering delusion you lay in your bed egotistically jerking off to.
I deleted all your emails. I deleted you on all my social networks. I deleted your number out of my phone and I erased all your pictures because I don’t want to waste a single moment getting rid of you out of necessitation- because it was necessary to drive home the point that I have what it takes to do what the rest of those women you lay up with can’t- see that you’re a total waste of time. You didn’t count on that when you should have and now I can get back to doing what I always do- my thing. That’s what a woman like me does- we don’t stop to wonder what might have been because we know beyond a shadow of a doubt, this shit was never meant to be in the first place.
The preemptive strike should be one of the many tools in a woman’s arsenal that will set the record straight and let people know we mean business when it comes to our time, our feelings and ultimately our lives.
Want to set the message in stone? Try the preemptive strike measure on the asshole who deserves it. He just might wake up (I seriously doubt it) to the fact that what he’s doing is beyond lame.