A common dramatic license in fictional thrillers is the sudden exit of the main character, usually a powerful man, from a scene of heightening intimacy with a woman. He gives no reason why he has to leave, but the viewer knows, or it is implied, that he leaves to rendezvous with his mysterious employer or otherwise shady characters to do business. This disappearing act, naturally, leaves the woman in a state of frustrated, and aroused, curiosity.
This trope taps ancient female longings for a heroic man with a sense of duty who must travel to faraway lands to fight an enemy, pursue a passion, or reach an enlightenment. A man who can tear himself away from a woman, from her trite domestic concerns, to “do what compels him”, becomes an exotic archetype to the woman. His desirability is stamped in the psyche of every woman from an early time in human evolution, when leaders of men gathered hunting parties and left the women and babes behind.
The modern seducer can capture the allure of the disappearing act for himself. Imagine you’re on a date with a woman who, you intuit, has one foot in and one foot out. She’s beautiful, and she’s unfailingly inscrutable. You try an arsenal of game tactics, but nothing sticks. To bag this trophy baby you’ll need a bigger tingle bomb. That’s when you reach for your phone, briefly scan the screen, make a phony excuse — “I have to meet with someone important” — and be gone. Don’t loiter to parry her questions. If she presses, tell her you’ll call her tomorrow, and that you’re sorry you can’t divulge more, and you understand her frustration. Your exit must be fluid and definitive.
Beautiful women expect men to lavish them with attention, and to extend as long as possible the time spent with such women. They are right to expect this effortful courtship, since most men rarely break from the script. Therefore, the man who executes Disappearing Act Game immediately catapults himself into the frantic consciousness that characterizes a sexually fixated woman.
A few clarifications. Disappearing Act Game is dynamite, to be used sparingly, and only on those women with whom the seduction process has tediously stalled. If you’re at a woman’s place, and she’s smiling and tipping back a glass of wine, it would be stupid to suddenly leave when the probability of crack fracking is high. Too, it would be self-defeating to walk out on a date when she’s dropping nonverbal hints of her rising attraction. In pickup lingo, Disappearing Act Game is a nuclear version of the game tactic known as the takeaway; you’re leaving her not just for a few seconds, or even a few hours, but for a whole day, and under enticingly obscure circumstances.
I’ve used Disappearing Act Game ten or fifteen times in my life, if you want a handle on the proper frequency of deployment. It’s best used on very beautiful women who routinely date high status men, and with whom you’d seriously consider a long-term romance. Timing is important; disappearing after the first hello isn’t going to accrue much to your value. Maximum hamster impact is achieved after she’s gotten somewhat comfortable in your company, and a groundwork of intimacy has been built. She has to be a little bit invested in you to feel the loss of your quick exit.
You, for your part, must have a deep reserve of self-control to initiate the Leaving Protocol. Most men reading this post now don’t have it; you will think about leaving on a whim, you may even have at the ready an erotically charged excuse to leave, but her pretty face will keep you stuck in her orbit. To disappear with conviction, you have to be firmly committed to seeing your exit through the back door. Her eyes will look up at you, suddenly liquid with confusion and spiked interest, and it will test the last ounce of your will to sever your precious, if illusory, spatial bond to her. Stay the course. The only bond that matters in a woman’s heart is the one you caulk in her cock vault.
A final tip: What really helps gird your will to disappear like a phantom is having another girl in your dating rotation. Two in the kitty isn’t just a cad’s mission statement; it’s psychological leverage.
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