How to Attract Any Woman

Let’s take a little poll right now. Raise your hands if you’re single, and you’d love to attract the perfect man or woman into your life.


That’s a lot of hands, and that’s exactly what I expected to see. If you’re single, and you haven’t totally given up on the whole dating thing (or even the belief that “I know he/she is out there, and I know we’ll meet each other when the time is right”), then you are one of those people who would be delighted to welcome a perfect lover into your life.

Which brings me to today’s topic. I’m on a lot of email lists to receive information about dating and relationships, because as an author of a book on dating, I want to see what’s being said on the topic. I recently received an email that promises to make any man an irresistible sexual animal. It begins:

IMAGINE THIS:

What if you could SAY and DO a few simple things to automatically, helplessly, irresistibly bring out the "SEXUAL ANIMAL" in ANY WOMAN YOU WANTED?

Well, get this:

You CAN--and once you know how to do it, you can take ANY woman from "just friends" to "take me home now" in a HEARTBEAT!!!

FACT IS, learn the simple secrets of what I call "Power Sexuality," and the women you dream about will start FANTASIZING ABOUT *YOU*!

Learn how to "turn on" your "Power Sexuality" right here:

www.middleagedbabemagnet.com



Ha! I added the link to my own website to see if you were paying attention. But the rest of the quote above has not been changed at all.

This “one solution fits all” approach to dating is NOT what I’m about, even though I do offer 92 Babe Magnet Rules throughout the pages of Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet. What I do believe is that there are many basic things that work for the majority of single men and women, but I would never tell you that there’s ONE MAGIC THING THAT WILL MAKE A WOMAN WANT YOU RIGHT NOW.

But lots of folks are looking for the easy solutions—whether it’s the one perfect thing to say or the one perfect thing to wear or the one perfect rule to follow.

The truth is, the key to dating success—whether you are a man or a woman, is to be yourself. And by that I mean, be the very best version of you that you can be. Guys, sometimes that means getting rid of all those grunge-rock flannels in your wardrobe. (Why? Because women love it when you look like you care about your appearance.)

Women, sometimes that means smiling more and wearing something besides your favorite sweats. (Why? Because men love it when you care enough about your appearance to look your best.)

Now, I’m sure that there’s some value in almost every dating advice book or dating advice package that’s out there. But please don’t think there’s one golden answer or one magic system that will suddenly take you from dweeb to Brad Pitt.

Besides, there’s already one Brad Pitt in the world. What the world really needs is exactly what the very best version of you has to offer.

This is Chad Stone, signing off for now.

 

How to Win Gold ("Approved" Version)

It has come to my attention that the Olympic Committee is very protective of its copyrights, trademarks, sponsorship deals, etc. The Olympic Committee owns full rights to the words "Olympics," "Olympic Games," "olympian" and other variations. When you use any of those words in a non-approved, commercial context and you aren't McDonald's or Coca-Cola or another sponsor that has paid zillions of dollars to be associated with The Games, the Olympic Committee threatens to sue you.

Really. Even if you were to use a line such as "How to Win Gold in the Dating Olympics." Oh crap, that's the headline of my last blog post, isn't it?

OK. In an effort to show the Olympic Committee that I am not blantantly and knowingly using their trademarks for my own personal gain, I present this revised, "approved" version of my previous post.

Here goes:

How to “Win Gold” in the Ultimate Sport: Looking for Love

Santa Fe, NM— After the medals have been awarded in London, another kind of sporting event will dominate the thoughts of 99.6 million single American adults—Looking for Love

Chad Stone, author of a humorous guide to dating called Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet (available at www.amazon.com and www.middleagedbabemagnet.com), says there are many similarities between the sporting world games and modern dating.

“For many single adults, looking for love is a major event,” says Stone. “Men and women train for their dates as if they were competing in world-class sporting events, and many singles aren’t happy until they have won the equivalent of a gold medal in dating.”

According to Stone, there are seven sporting/dating styles used while Looking for Love:

Marathon Dater—A Marathon Dater goes on lots of dates. This is the “kiss a lot of frogs” approach to finding love. Sometimes, out of sheer persistence, this approach works. But sometimes Marathon Daters “hit the wall” and settle for a life of singleness.

The Sprinter—The Sprinter can’t stand to NOT have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Before his cell phone cools from the last breakup call, he is dashing off to find a replacement. When a female Sprinter finds someone she likes, she can’t wait to “cross the finish line.” We used to call a woman like this “easy.” Now we say she is behaving like a man.
Gold Medal Perfectionist—This type is great at first and second dates but never seems to find true love because he or she is holding out for the perfect partner. A Gold Medal Perfectionist is so picky that no mere mortal is ever good enough, so why bother with a third date?
The Coach—These know-it-alls freely share their vast knowledge of the opposite sex with anyone who will listen. But Coaches never take their own advice, and they rarely go out on successful dates.
Perpetual Training Mode—A female in Perpetual Training Mode faithfully reads several dating blogs and always looks great—because you know how important first impressions are. A male in Perpetual Training Mode goes to the gym a lot to work on his biceps. But all of this prep time leaves precious little time for actual dating.
Individual Medley Dater—Just like the swimmers who do four different strokes during a single race, Individual Medley Daters aren’t content to date just one person at a time. It may be fun for a while, but ultimately this type of dater gets himself into trouble when he gets the names of his dates mixed up.
Confident Competitor—The true champion in the Looking for Love competition combines the best qualities of several dating styles. Like the Gold Medal Perfectionists, they are looking for quality—but not perfection. They know that sometimes dating requires persistence. Confident Competitors finish the race at their own pace and ultimately find the man or woman of their dreams.


NOTE: I hope that the term "Win Gold" isn't also owned by the Olympic Committee. I guess if they do own it, I'll hear from their lawyers. :-(

You Gotta Believe It Before You See It

Some people just don't get it, bless their hearts. This is the story of someone who gets it, and someone who doesn't.

My friend, Craig, was having a drink with a mutual friend at a restaurant/bar. I'm going to call this other guy Dufus Dipstick, for reasons that will soon become obvious. Craig and Dufus are sitting in the lounge area of the bar, and Craig notices that an attractive blonde woman is looking at him. He smiles at her, and she smiles back. So he does the friendly, manly thing and walks over to say hello to her.

Her name is Susan, and she and Craig start having an animated conversation. The vibes are good. Craig includes Susan's friend in the conversation, and he finds out the friend is a teacher, just like Dufus. So Craig invites Dufus over to join the conversation.

What does Dufus do? Instead of talking with the teacher, he tries to chat up Susan. WTF? thinks Craig. Why is he talking to Susan? That's not how this whole "talking to women in a bar" thing works. Craig is supposed to talk to Susan, since there's obviously a real attraction there, and Dufus is supposed to talk to Susan's friend, since the two of them have something in common.

But no, Dufus doesn't pay hardly any attention to Susan's friend, and that ruins the whole dynamic. After Craig and Dufus leave the bar (without getting any phone numbers, because the vibe was gone by then), Craig turns to Dufus and says, "What's the matter with you? That woman was really interested in you, and you hardly talked to her."

"No she wasn't," replied Dufus.

"Of course she was," said Craig. "She wanted to talk to you about teaching, and you ignored her. You could have left with her phone number."

"She wasn't interested in me at all," said Dufus. And there was nothing Craig could say to convince him otherwise. Dufus didn't see it because he didn't believe it.

That incident is a perfect example of Babe Magnet Rule #1 from my book (Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet by Chad Stone): To be a Babe Magnet, you must believe you are a Babe Magnet. Dufus is going to continue to travel through life single, without the companionship of a compatible woman, because he doesn't believe that women are interested in him. Craig, on the other hand, fully believes that women are attracted to him, and his experience reinforces that belief.

If only Craig could convince Dufus that there's a perfect woman waiting for him (Dufus), then Dufus would soon experience that reality. But there's no way to change someone else's mind unless they are willing to change.

Dufus, like so many of us, has it backwards. He thinks, "I'll believe it when I see it." Instead, he should work on believing it--then he'll see it. That's the way that dating--and life--works.

In future posts I'll cover more of the Babe Magnet Rules from Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet.

Thanks for reading, and tell a friend!

Getting Back Into Dating Again

I have been asked about my upcoming book, Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet. It’s a humorous memoir about my post-divorce experience in the dating world. Throughout the book, I share dating advice, which I call Babe Magnet Rules. But it’s a difficult book to explain, so I thought I would use this blog post to share an excerpt from the book.

This chapter is from early in the book, when I had just begun my single life. Here we go:



An Excerpt from Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet by Chad Stone
I just did something amazing. I approached a beautiful woman in public and had a nice conversation with her.

I was sitting alone at a restaurant near my apartment, eating at the counter where it’s OK to read the magazines without buying them. In walks an attractive middle-aged woman all by herself. I catch her eye as she sits at a table and then quickly surveys the room.

In the most casual, not-too-obvious way I watch her to see if anyone is going to join her. Apparently not.

All right, it’s pretty obvious that she knows I’m watching her. She takes off her denim jacket to reveal a black tank top and breasts that were not installed at the factory. They are perky and considerably younger than the rest of her body. Her hair is frosted blonde and her skin is pleasantly tanned.

She gets up from her table and walks right in front of me, pretending that she needs extra napkins RIGHT NOW before her food is delivered to her table. I watch her walk back to her table, and she looks over to make sure I’m watching her.

Nice. Very nice.

Well, we’re both checking each other out from a safe distance. Now what? I scan the restaurant again to see if anyone is going to join her.

In my youth, I was never a great pickup artist. Actually, I was never a pickup artist at all. Approaching a beautiful woman who I don’t know is not something that I have done in decades. It’s the worst, most frightening sort of cold call there is. I can make a business cold call, because I have a purpose and I have confidence in my business skills. But a cold call to pickup a beautiful woman? That’s completely out of my comfort zone.

Many years ago, I shared a bachelor pad with Pete, a friend from college who shared my appreciation for the female gender. We were both 21 or 22, single, and we had WAY more hormones than we knew what to do with.

Pete and I used to walk to the supermarket every Tuesday after work because we knew that a drop-dead gorgeous woman shopped there at the same time every week. She was tall and blonde and dressed smartly in a business jacket and a tight but not too-tight skirt. We surmised that she was a lawyer based on her attire and the businesslike precision with which she carried herself.

We used to follow her around through the store, hanging back so she wouldn’t notice us. I always felt that she was out of my league, so the closest I ever got to actually having a conversation with her was the one time I walked beside her and noticed that she had bought some fresh fish from the meat counter.

I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Finally I said, “Fish. I like fish.” She looked at me strangely, like I had just dragged myself out of the ocean and I was attempting to walk on land for the first time. I had no follow-up line, so I slinked away, dragging my tail fin behind me.

That was the first and last time I ever talked to the Lawyer Babe.

So, my history of picking up Babes is not long and impressive. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve seen an attractive woman that I didn’t talk to, I’d be listed right under Bill Gates in the Fortune 400 list of gadzillionaires.

Well, what the hell. I’m more than 50 years old and I’ve never heard of anyone dying from talking to a beautiful woman. Humiliated, for sure. But there is no known case of lightning bolts zapping a poor, unfortunate man who dared to talk to a woman that he didn’t know. I am quite sure that there is nothing in the Bible that specifically forbids it. There’s a commandment against adultery and against coveting thy neighbor’s wife, but there’s no commandment that says, “Thou shalt not talk to Babes.”

I have observed many Babe Magnets over the years. These studly men reek of self-confidence and never seem at a loss for words. When they see a Babe, they pounce. That’s because they know…


BABE MAGNET RULE #3
Babe Magnets always make the first move.


I take a deep breath. I’m going for it. I get up and walk to the Blonde Babe’s table.

As I walk across the restaurant, the room keeps getting larger. A little stroll that should have taken me just seconds is stretching longer and longer. After an hour I am still walking.

Then I am standing next to her and I am forced to speak.

“Excuse me, are you dining alone tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Me, too. Do you mind if I join you?”

She smiles. She has perfect white teeth that are no older than her breasts. “Not at all,” she says in a pleasing tone of voice.

I go back to the counter, grab my plate and glass, and walk them over to her table. As I set them down I say, “Well, this is kind of weird, but I didn’t want to eat alone.”

If it’s weird for her, she doesn’t admit it. We start talking. Her name is Laura. She is a zookeeper. In my entire life, I’ve never met a real zookeeper. Her job gives us lots to talk about, and I ask her a lot of questions because I’m genuinely interested. I feel a little like the late Mr. Rogers, asking the zookeeper about all of the fascinating things she does because it needs to fill a whole segment of his show.

Laura takes care of the large, hoofed animals—everything from rhinos to antelopes. From what she says it’s a bizarre and wonderful job. She even taught the rhinos to stand on a huge scale. It took a whole year of work, but she did it. That’s the kind of story that would make a great quirky item on the local news.

But while I am talking to her, my mind is filling with inappropriate questions:

“Do you ever use whips at work? How about at home?”

“What’s the biggest snake you’ve ever gotten your hands on?”

“What do you do with the peacock feathers you find?”

“How many times have guys used a ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’ line on you?”

“How often do zoo animals have sex?”

I have to focus really hard on our conversation to make all of the wild-animals-having-sex images leave my head.

I tell her a little bit about me and my work. It’s not as exciting as two massive rhinos going at it, but Laura seems mildly interested.

We talk for a while, and I find my eyes glancing at different parts of her body. Her arms are well toned and she is clearly vain enough to take pride in her body. And there are those wonderful, young perky breasts just waiting for a chance to breathe fresh air. Breasts must really hate to be trapped in bras all day where they can’t see the light of day.

How old is she? Somewhere in her early 50s. She has two kids, ages 33 and 31. If she had the first child when she was 18, she’d be 51 now.

She tells me that she’s expecting a friend to join her. I assume that it’s a female friend. I am dead wrong. Carl, a nice-looking bearded man, arrives and suddenly I go from feeling confident to feeling like I have invaded another man’s territory. Crap.

“We were both dining alone and decided to sit together,” I explain.

Carl is very gracious— probably more gracious than I would be in his situation.

The conversation at the table dies. It’s an awkward moment. Carl gets up to go back to the counter to order food, and I get up to find a take-out box to pack up what’s left of my fish and chips.

Laura and I chit-chat lightly while I package my food to go. I say “nice meeting you” and I leave them to their regularly scheduled rendezvous.

I didn’t get Laura’s last name or phone number, so there is no way for me to contact her again.

I think about her later in the evening when I’m back in my bachelor apartment. We had a pleasant conversation, but we didn’t spend enough time together to know if there could have been any magic between us.

It’s not like I closed the deal, but I made my first Babe Cold Call, and I feel good. I am proud of myself for having the guts to get up from my comfortable spot in the restaurant and join her. I actually approached a beautiful woman and proved that I could have a pleasant conversation. Sure, I bolted when her male friend showed up, but I still made first contact.

For the first time as a newly single man, I feel like I am going to do just fine in this brave new world of meeting new women.