Female Psychic Attack is written by Ross Jeffries, can be read online here, and on a parallel world where I invented English people don't say his name instead of "creepy delusional loser." The very first word is "Bros" and it's the only time in history when talking about 80s sensations Matt and Luke Goss would be less embarrassing. Using the plural of "Bro" is bad; doing so in writing was thought impossible; but pretending to be a fratboy when you look like Popeye after a few years at Spinach-eaters Anonymous?
Ross Jeffries. On his own site. This is what he uses to represent himself in public where everyone can see.
Ross was raised on a world of Amazonian warrior-bitches who slept with M1 battle tanks, so he acts like every conversation is an arms deal with Basque separatists. He also wages unending war against grammar, apostrophes, and captilization, but since he's already declared the entire X chromosome his enemy that's only a minor skirmish. And expecting the author of a book about girls and their mind-blasting cooties to be good at communication is like demanding an Alien facehugger respect your personal space: by evolution, intent and innate sucks-to-be-near-them they just can't.
The intended audience is announced by the unexplained use of "AFC" in the first sentence. If you don't know what that is? Well done on being a real human being who can approach the opposite gender without a strategy guide. This text is intended for high-level students of online misogyny lectures, since the term is never defined. Googling it results in "American Football Conference", "Asian Football Confederation" (both of which would beat this guy up) and "Ambassadors For Christ in Canada" (who could also likely also beat him up, and probably get laid more often.)
The catalog of disaster that is the Fast Seduction 101 acronym page eventually reveals AFC as "Average Frustrated Chump." Yes, theirs is a world where the average state of males is sexually frustrated. Unsurprising since theirs is world where acronyms are involved in dating and they unsarcastically use "HB" for "Hot Babe."
Here's an example of the advice you'll get from a man who thinks women can telepathically blast your testicles:
- That'd get Robin Williams beaten on the set of a romantic comedy even if it was in the script. And the only things that use "laff" are christmas-cracker joke-writing robots in their quest to destroy human joy.
- It's still better than the second suggested response
My imaginary dungeons & dragons wizard only has ten ranks in fucking insanity so I can't quite follow the train of imaginary thought here - but I can tell it's crashed through a psych ward and into a hall of mirrors. There are levels of desperate delusion here that'd make the Joker try to talk him down, and if I'm reading it right his advice is "If the girl doesn't want to stay late be extra-aggressive about wanting sex." That's not romantic advice, that's Daterape for Dummies.
Here he responds to a lack of phone calls by accusing the girl of being a dumb slut and/or fucking dumb sluts, depending on her ability to parse what happens to grammar after multiple concussions. In Jeffries' fantastic alterna-world this barrage of insults, ellipses and shouting has the woman desperately wondering how she can best please him. As opposed to two timezones away and still accelerating.
(Please be warned that the man who typed "HA HA HA HA!" like that is still at large and should not be approached by either gender.)
The final example in the eight-page opus is a masterpiece of denial insanity, which I can't do full justice without just copying it here and standing behind a lead-lined anti desperation field. It involves a case "sent to me in email by a Bro", the dating-advice version of a letter to Penthouse written by "a friend of mine from Canada youwouldn'tknowher", a recommended reply which would make Bizarro Superman look like a tender lover, and the girl actually breaking up with presented as a successful result.
Jeez, man, if you're going write a book about made-up not-dates at least have her dump you because she found you in bed with fourteen zero-gravity cheerleading rocketeers. That way you're at least pretending your psychic woman-hunting anti-voodoo works.