GOOD GIRLS AND BAD GIRLS

Why do women aggressively pursue me although I am married?  I am listening to a video pitch from another website tab that is going to teach me how to get beautiful girls to fuck me. When did asking stop working?

Richard is this tiny little fellow who claims he fucks the hottest girl every time. He concedes that his looks do not even hold up to his friends, but he outplays them when it comes to making connections with the female gender.

It seems like it was so long ago when I felt awkward around beautiful women. The homecoming queen also kept stats for wrestling and baseball. Two sports I was active at back then. To assess me at a glance, I was confident. I drove a hot sports car and had a nice build. I was well-known for the 18 strikeouts I pitched  in a 21 out game. It holds the record, but was as close as I have gotten to a no-hitter.

Anyway, I am a junior, and Lisa was a Senior. She was always very nice to me. In fact, I was more popular in the class ahead of me than in my own. I can remember how hard it was to breath when I got up off the bench and headed down to the other side where Lisa and her friend were catching up on game stats.

I stood there in silence. My heart was about to explode. It felt like my words would not come out, just as I was about to say something, the coach called me over to him.

I was going to start next inning playing third base. That meant, that I would bat third when we were back on offense. This time, my mind was partially turned toward  the other team's pitcher, when she looks up at me, pats the spot next to her and invites me to sit down...

I was reluctant. Our team just got the final out and were coming into the dugout. I thought I missed my chance. She  tugs my jersey and said, "did you come over here to tell me something?" I looked at her and slowly nodded. She went on, "Do you want to take me to the Prom? Yes. I will go to the Prom with you."

Her friend came back with sodas. Lisa told her that she has a date for the Prom and her friend was really excited and asked, "But who"

I was outside the dugout and could hear them talking about me, but not what they were saying.

The opposing pitcher was new and left-handed. He struck out both batters ahead of me. I got to the plate and I am smiling to the point I probably looked like I had special needs. I watched strike two fly by, and called time. I stood outside the batter's box and planted my right foot even with the plate, and my left was hugging the front line.

A left-handed pitcher has a natural curve to their pitches. I noticed his broke late. So I moved in and up.

He threw a fast ball to back me off the plate, but I returned to the same stance. All of a sudden his delivery is different. He was trying to through a change up, but it turned out to be a hanging curve.

I fed another ball to the beast-or the swamp area beyond the outfield. We made up stories of a wild beast living their, surviving off of the only thing he can eat-homeruns...

When I rounded the bases, it tied us up. Lisa comes running out and hugs me like I did have special needs...I don't remember if we came back and won that game or not. know I left a winner. 

Sick of Complaining about a Good life.

The subject line appears in a Foo-Fighters song and I notice that is actually impossible. Complaints are negative and when we share our misery we get big doses of misery back from others.

I am guessing that this is truth, knowing it is true in reverse. Happiness causes the corners of your mouth to turn up and you get this feeling in your chest. Right there, where the heart organ is located you get this warm feeling and a secure sense that everything is going to work out perfectly.

I have lived and I have existed.

The difference in the two are polar. Existing: Getting out of bed only to relieve myself and the occasional attempt at hygiene would draw me out of my bedroom. 

I was alone. Just me and my Tivo, dozens of syndicated sitcom reruns of shows that were popular a few years ago, but ran its course.
I would eat and I would smoke cigarettes. So it even stank in that room. I was a burden on everyone and I hated it.
 
I remember back in 2009 when I queried my Free Spirit Fitness manuscript. It only took one mailing and I had a contract with an agent.

Now, that manuscript has add dimension. I will show you the same results doing the same thing, except this time, I realize that what I have stumbled into is valuable information. It has always been there but never made real until I assigned it a name.

My approach to life follows the philosophy of freewill, or the free spirit philosophy, and its application to helping one achieve the body they were visualizing just a few months earlier. No sagging skin at any age.

Age is just bull shit anyway.

Life as a Writer-Take a Glance

Artistic people, or those of predisposed to using right brain functions over left, have the ability to see the abstract. I have a vivid imagination. Concepts swarm my mind until a start grabbing them and begin the process of bringing them to life.

 

 

I am teaching myself how to play the keyboard and am a complete original who excels past adequate to a featured role in a band.



 

I can live with my eccentricities. When I am writing, or doing anything that requires me to assume a persona, then I am living truthfully in fictional circumstances. I am absorbed into what I am doing to the point that I call it the obvious:

 

The peripheral world no longer exists for me

 

I have to engage that deeply into my subconscious to draw out my talents. I have to be connected with this universal energy when I express myself. I fell from having a blog that overwhelmed me to where I lost pace by almost 2,500 unanswered reader comments.

 

So often, I would be asked what is the secret to my success. Readers have proposed to interview me, others have volunteered to be my apprentice.  And, readers constantly asked for my permission to quote me in their blogs.

 

I had almost a dozen other blogs attached to mine looking to share my traffic. I gave without condition and it rained down on me with an overwhelming spike in the volume of readers my blog posts were coming in copious and consistent expressions of gratitude. I was able to help so many of them discover something important about their lives. The spike shows how well intelligent people will flock together.

 

I expect nothing less for this blog site

 

I am happy to have this break from the manuscripts to post a fresh blog. I love living with freewill, or, hence, my free spirit philosophy. When you master control over your minds you will be a powerful being. You will attract those like you to you.

 

Together, we manifest an informal morality contract and will be just the person the other person needs to meet. I accept that I am not writing for much of an audience at the moment. I don't care a whole lot.

 

I had too many "Stumble ons...: and "I don't even know how I ended up here.s" to give concern any energy that I have no purpose in the time I am spending writing this down. But the fact is, I need a plan...

 

Ebooks, manuscripts, websites, photographs, video, editing all, software, I need someone to help me otherwise I will...I will have to wait longer doing it alone. That would bum the shit out of me.

 

I am on a schedule and will be restored when I am finished moving everything to an 3 EXT HD and filtering that to a 1 TB and from their, uploading to my desktop and laptop. They will start off in perfect synchronization. I would be really happy and even more grateful for that day.

 

I think I have the right system, but who is to know.

 

 

If you do, I am begging for advice from an organized writer.  I will get by on talent...I will get by faster on talent and efficiency...lol

 

I will compensate a tutor for their help.

 

Otherwise, I am doing nothing better than moving a whole bunch of data to that one hard-drive, filtering it and sending the edited versions ahead to 1Tb...I will pay someone a lot of money to help[.

(a lot is a relevant and subjective word) It will be more than the effort you need to put in for those weekly or biweekly checks.

 

Get my comments primed and respond that way. I am legitimate, and so is the offer...

What Readers Have said about my Blog-AUTHOR REPLY

BLOG AUTHOR and SENIOR AGENT: J. KRIS HALLEY

KoMeT KrEAtiONs TaLENt, iNc.

Revolutionizing the Way Creative Talent is Discovered

 

UNSOLICITED TESTIMONY AND READER COMMENTS

This link will take you to the Wordpress account that held the top ranking on and off since the year began according to a reader.  I did get a lot of traffic all at once

Main Page

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REPLY

That is so good to hear. I plan on keeping it up at a break-neck pace...I will be announcing my new URL's as soon as they are published.

This account has been blocked off by matadoru and I am still confused as to why...I am not writing erotica here (although I love too). I am discussing issues of such value that they will change millions of lives for the better.

You can be sure that I will update my new URL addresses as soon as they are made public.

Think Well, Be Well

JK Halley

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REPLY:

Do you believe in accidents? Einstein didn’t and I understand he was a pretty intellectual fellow…I don’t believe in accidents either.

ACCIDENTS ARE ILLUSIONS

There is always a reason behind everything we do. We may not always be entitled to know why or how, but something other than coincidence put you here. Whatever or however you found yourself reading through my post is far less relevant than the fact that you are here.

I cannot venture even a guess on how many reader comments begin with “I stumbled upon…” or “I was browsing when I ended up here” and “I have no idea how I ended up on your site…”

I can explain.

We all know and accept the Law of Gravity, right? Watch (in your imagination) as my pen falls from my hand and plummets to the floor. An invisible force, gravity, is behind this amazing feat… Want me to do it again? Lol

The point I am trying to emphasize is the Law of Attraction is busy at work in this case. Like things attract like things. Send out a frequency of love, and love responds by returning to you all that you give back, and in greater measure.

This blog site is a perfect example. I wrote from my heart on topics I know very well. I published my philosophy in an effort to share the love…Suddenly I am being showered by your reader comments reflecting the truth in that statement.

It is never my intention to gloat, boast, or make everything about me.When I learn of someone’s success, I send out empathetic frequencies of love and accommodation. I am not worried they will steal my traffic, or that their success came at my expense.

Envy is listed as one of seven deadly sins. In the Hebrew scriptures of the Bible, the Ten Commandments tells one:

“Be careful as not to covet thy neighbor”

--Moses, by virtue of a higher power

Trust this wisdom and find a way to be happy for others when they succeed…jealous feelings will guarantee that you will not taste the same bliss as the one you curse for succeeding.

There is something that I have posted, or something I will post, that will fit your circumstances perfectly. Open your mind’s eye and the answers you seek will appear.

Change begins with thoughts and beliefs. One who has tried before to effect change are often disillusioned by past failures and resigned themselves to the very vague statement, “That’s just life…It’s a (Warning! The word you choose for this spot is a reflection of how you really feel)

If you followed the saying to conclusion, you would have written, “Life is a bitch, what can ya do?”

Trust me when I tell you that you have just called into reality more reasons to believe that life is a bitch and stronger evidence that supports you are powerless to change-BULL SH*T

However, this is a representation of just how powerful our thoughts and beliefs actually are…It works both ways!

Try, “That’s Life…And, it is freaking awesome!” smile when you say it and muster as much positive emotion as you can to begin believing that what you speak is truth…

That statement is the first of many you should adopt. Life is a reflection of our beliefs and choices. If it is not the ideal life you desire, do not continue as the fool.

A fool is one who expects different results from the same approach…That is a quote from someone, but it poured out as an original thought…I just know somebody said it, not just That One Guy. The whole idea, is when one thing fails, it’s time for fresh tactics.

That One Guy is me. It is an original thought to me, but I can’t take credit if I am not the first to share this observation. I am just unaware of anyone who did use it before me.

Thin Well, Be Well

JK Halley

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THE MOTHMAN PROPHECIES-I GREW UP ACROSS FROM WVA WHEN THE BRIDGE COLLAPSED...ONE OF MY MOST POPULAR BLOGS

I have close to 300 pages of unsolicited testimonies that give my writing skills praise and my philosophy a warm welcome. I spent the time to express myself in a way consistent with my free spirit philosophy. While I did post off-topic inadvertently, this article was about travel, because I returned to Ohio to visit my family.

I first wrote what I expected them to accept as my first assignment for this travel course I am taking with Matador U.
 

I posted about the area I am from. It was called, "I Was Born in the Ohio Valley." It drew interest because I grew up just across the river from Point Pleasant, W. Va. It elicited the most readership and was an intended travel story.

If where I was born means nothing to you, it was the setting for the blockbuster film with Richard Gere, Debra Messing, and Laura Linney, "The Mothman Prophecies." It is set across the river in Pt. Pleasant, W.Va. I have actually spoke to eyewitnesses of the actual event that took place at Christmas of 1967

This is the home of the official Mothman Prophecy museum. The thing I always wondered, is they could have added a whole new dynamic to the story. If you notice the Muriel below. It is new...at least to me. It depicts the story of Chief Cornstalk.

His tribe of Cherokee Indians occupied that area. He had been pushed further and further back. When white men wanted the area where two major rivers meet. They could ship East and West on the Kanawha River and all of the way from Pittsburgh to the Gulf on the Ohio.

Finally, he would bargain no more. He began ordering raids on local settlements. He ordered the wrath of an aggressive US Military pushing west.

The story has it, that just before he was shot down, he stood at the edge of the convergence and cursed the ground before he died.

How can they leave out true shit like that? The Mothman become purveyor's of the curse. You open with a chief whailing out something in his native tongue as soldiers line up with rifles pointing and someone yells, "Aim...Fire!" The full moon reflects in a pool of the dead chief's blood.  Then Let Richard spoon Debra in the closet they were looking to buy.

I am one of only a few who have heard first-hand tales of those times. My own father had used the bridge only a couple of hours before it collapsed. My father has retold the story enough that he remembers how busy it was and that it took especially long to cross that old bridge would shake when you were idle on it due to congestion.

Eyewitnesses reported that a flash and a loud bang was seen on the first tower. I suspect the flash was from the sudden release of kinetic energy by one of the cables breaking. Because they would tell how the bridge would sway like a snake.

They also reported a large winged bird of some kind take flight from the top of that tower and fly south along the surface of the river.

Like they portrayed in the film, these are good, honest people. They are embarrassed about telling others the chilling experience they had with this alleged Mothman.

Another interesting fact that could have added more to the film is an area known as "TNT."

I have no idea how the name came about. But during WWII, the military constructed a hidden bunker base. It is rumored to have a network of tunnels built just below the surface during the height of the cold war.

On the outside, it appeared as just a uninhabited series of gravel roads, with an occasional bunker-type structure. It was this area people rumored most of the siting's.

I remember being told all of these things and about the actual collapse.

Then screams were heard as the bottom dropped out of a section of the bridge. They did get the part about the headlights shining up from the bottom of the river, but Christmas presents would be swiftly taken down stream in a mighty river like the Ohio.

Diver's were on the spot quickly but I cannot tell you whether they were able to save anyone. I know about a week later, post dives came back with reports of catfish the size of Volkswagens lurked in the dark murky waters at the bottom of the Ohio River.

I must admit it is a weird attachment. I never tell people the name of the city I was born in, because it only leads to me repeating it several times.

It is the thriving city known as "Gallipolis." The name is Latin and translates to the  "City of the Gaul's"-or as we know them, the French. The French 500 evidently pitched their tents there and by 1790 declared themselves an independent municipality.

I know, that's the kind of writing that will have you aroused. I just have to fit in the technical stuff.  My mother lives in Rodney now anyway.

Rodney is on the way from downtown Gallipolis  to a small town known as Rio Grande. I hope it wasn't named after Raccoon Creek...


Anyway, we discover another fun fact about the area I spent the first half of my life. A farmer, Bob...Evans, yeah, that's it Bob Evans has his original farm up there.

Now, you find the Bob Evans Franchise still growing as he lasted until his eighties. He died only a few years back. In fact, my mother had talked to him about a problem they shared, because his property bordered my mother's.

My mother was one of his original waitresses. He was a good man with a recipe for good sausage and a dream he watched get fulfilled early in his life and only grew over time. His products are in local supermarkets.

If I was not in the middle of transferring data and could find the pictures, I have some of his farm. I remember that it used to host an apple or foliage festival. They had farm exhibits and tractor rides. It was surprisingly popular considering how dull the attractions were.

I moved away in 1989 to manage a Domino's Pizza location in Steubenville. It was the owner's flagship location and I was in a relationship with his daughter.

It doesn't add up that he would transfer me away if he wanted my relationship to continue with his step-daughter. I lost out in that situation and was working hours that opposed having a social life in every way possible.

Weekends were the busiest time. I worked from 4PM to 2PM both nights. I was off on Sundays and worked the day shift on Mondays.

Going back to the whole premise that humans are hard-wired against sustained dread or prolonged restrictions. I was getting more than my paycheck would even come close to the sacrifices of working that schedule is to a newly single, 19 year old adolescent.

My testosterone levels were peaking and I was handling matters far too often. I quit and moved North to Pittsburgh.

I was there under the premise of getting an education. The truth be told, I was just running scared.  I had lived in a small city my whole life.

Neither of my parents graduated. In fact, I was the only one between them and my sisters who graduated the conventional way. My mother suffered from Major Depression for my entire life as a child. No one ever heard of anti-depressants in the 1970s.

As far as I could tell, they would shock the depression out of you. It had no lasting effects and erased her memory.

One of the major events of my life was the day I confronted her about the affect her parenting had on me. I told her the unspeakable emotional abuse she would employ in my presence and even as her target.

I didn't get the big show of remorse I was expecting. She claimed to have no recollection of any of the events I described. I could tell by her discomfort and rush for me to end this recollection, spoke to the effect she remembered more than none.

I had chose to forgive her in 1999. I wasn't going to carry around resentment for her when the anti-depressants stopped those behaviors. I wasn't going to blame her and let matters go, until she recalls moments of my transgression, and immediately discounted my therapy because they always go to the mother, father, or legal custodian to find events that would trigger adverse effects in their patient.

I remember they all say "blame the mother...It's always the mother." I am thinking, "uh, yeah...the mother, the father, those two people who copulated and now have inherited the obligation to teach a new life the way to live, to parent, to know what it means to be an adult.

Why would she have so much trouble accepting that she has contributed the most to my early development. She stole my security by changing faces so quickly. A smile that turns into a scowl on cue with the sound of a car pulling in was all of the warning I would get.

Get to my bedroom. I have made the mistake of trying to linger in the shadows where I could see the TV, but I was always called out to testify.

I had nothing close to the capacity to understand why they would scream so loud.  I could not connect with how I got involved.  Both of them are calling for me, and in my head, Dad was the lesser of two evils.

He may have been emotionally unavailable, but I felt more secure in his company...I say that just as I remember when he pulled a knife on me once, and when he through a glass vase full of coins at me and through the wall.

I still remember how they believed in capital punishment. My father would rage and hit me with the end with the metal buckle.  They would strip off limbs that were really limber to use as a switch or more like a bull-whip...

Enough talking about the good old days. TBC

 

 

___________________________________________________________________________________ 

Did I GET PLAYED?

We were sunbathing on a Carnival Cruise Ship. It was a day at sea.

We noticed a cliché of coeds nearby and they were very serious about drowning all inhibitions by Noon, I would suspect. Te Sun was bright, and they were a bunch of drunk peaches from Georgia.

Despite the fact that I am a loyal, loving, and very much in love with my spouse, the old adage, "It takes one to know one" still has full application to me on this subject. I am familiar with the science, and I know the art of major seduction, but this was the first time I have observed it from the other perspective.

Earlier that day, one of the young women slapped my ass as I was moving past her in a row of lounge chairs on the Lido Deck. My wife was only a few steps ahead from me, and it would have been obvious to anyone that we were there together.

Her group all laughed at her bold action. One of her friends apologized for her indicating she was very intoxicated. My wife was initially disturbed, but let it go after an apology and explanation had been offered.

However, later that night, I was alone in one of the ship's many lounges. My wife was exhausted and had to call it a day. I stayed there because I had met a fellow passenger that shared many of the same interests as I. I enjoyed the discussion enough that I was not ready for it to end.

The next thing I know, a pretty young girl sits in the seat formerly occupied by my wife. She introduced herself and we shared a brief exchange of pleasantries. I returned to ask the fellow I had been conversing with, and took the last gulp left in my drink. The other man, who was my senior by ten to fifteen years, had also emptied his glass. I raised my hand and the bartender nodded in acknowledgement he would be with me soon.

The girl next to me had been joined by one of her friends by this time. As the bartender approached, she scooted close to me and said, let me buy this round. I was grateful but reluctant.
My contemporary friend told me to loosen up and take a drink when a beautiful girl offers.
By this time, she had already presented her room card, and paid for the drinks, and declared that she insisted. Her friend tells me there is no point in declining her offer at that point. I shouldn't waste alcohol, it's abuse-they laughed hysterically.

That is when they revealed themselves from the event earlier that day. " It is our way to make up for our friend's inappropriate behavior earlier."

That is when it clicked that these were the friends of the girl who had slapped my ass earlier that day.

They apologized again and told me that she was passed out in their room. Suddenly a third girl takes a position between her two friends seated next to me. She acted oblivious of my presence until one of her friends pointed to me.

She acted like she was so surprised and so apologetic. She was evidently the wing girl. She asks me where I was from, what I did for a living, and mixed in among these questions were about my wife.

They wanted to know if she was my wife and why she wasn't with me now. My friend was making attempts to contribute to the conversation, but it seemed like I was the only one capable of hearing him. By this point, two more of their party had joined us, but they were forced to stand.

By this time, my older acquaintance declares he was going to call it a day, and offers his seat to one of the ladies who had been standing. The first girl spots an open booth, and suggests we that we all relocate. I sat on my stool for a moment. I stood up and stretched my arms out, while yawning. As the words, "I probably should call it in for today myself." The first girl grabbed me by the arm and physically pulled me along.

I broke away for a moment, and restated that I should be getting back to my state room, when I was interrupted by a girl that referred me back to my earlier statement that I was still wired and wide-awake. She also repeated what I had told her earlier in a moment of levity when I compared her sleep was so deep it was coma-like.

One of the other girls, who I had yet to be introduced, asked me what I was going to do, just alone in my cabin. Another, notes that is still very early. And the fourth member of their group interjects a reminder that we were all there to party and have harmless fun, not sit alone in a cabin watching TV. The sale was closed when one of them refers back to the earlier incident and that they wanted to apologize the right way according to their compliance to southern hospitality. They were a group who referred to themselves as the Georgia Peaches. One of the took my room card and put in between her breasts and said the least I could do is let them pay for my drinks the rest of the night, and it would not be polite to accept this gesture.

I am beginning to realize that this wasn't all happening at random. After all, how many guys do you know would feel the least bit violated that a young, pretty girl, slapped his ass? If anything it was a nice little ego boost. But they continued to portray it as unforgivable and I had to let them make things right.
I joined them and was cornered inside the booth. Two girls sat across from me, and two sat beside me.

Immediately, they call the waitress over and ordered shots of tequila and Long Island iced teas for everyone. After the order was placed, they asked me if I liked tequila and Long Island iced teas. I do so, so I was on board.

I knew that one of them was attracted to me, but in the chaos of simultaneous conversations, crowd noise, and a live band, I was having trouble trying to identify which of these girls wanted me. It was obvious that the ring on my finger was not an issue for them.
Then the conversation moved to the next level, relationships. All, but maybe one, was involved or had some kind of love interest back home. Clearly, in their absence and protected by complete anonymity, that was no issue either. The girl who was not in a relationship was just coming out of a long-term relationship and was heart-broken. She didn't speak much or laugh as loud as her friends.

I was forming the conclusion that she was the one they were working for. Remarks like she needs to get laid big-time. Rebound sex was the cure she needed. That opened up the arena for the topic of sex. Even I was surprised by how openly and how shamelessly the discussion was getting. On the table in front of me was a number of drinks that I had not yet gotten to. That triggered high intensity peer pressure. Like how can I let a table full of mostly petite females out drink a big, strong man. I downed the rest of the drink I was on, and sipped the next one in line.

As they all revealed their favorite sexual positions and the best orgasms they had and why, the most orgasms they had in the same encounter, they coerced me to share. I didn't say much. Then the discussion was shifted slightly to oral sex. Amazingly, they all loved to pleasure their men and were very good at it. In the midst of it all, was me. My inhibitions had been impaired, and I could not stop myself from becoming aroused.

That is when I noticed, that when one girl would say something suggestive, one or another of them made physical contact with me. They were growing bolder by the moment. The first girl that had approached me earlier, finally came right out and asked. |"Have you ever had sex with more than one girl at a time? The silence was deafening in the moment it took me to absorb the sub-text and realize where this was all headed.

I nod and openly tell them that I have. The girl at her left challenged my ego by saying do you think you could handle us? Another commented do you like to eat peaches? I smiled and found myself in the unfamiliar position of speechlessness.
"I said I love to eat peaches, bu --" a blast of laughter drowned out the rest of my fragmented, incoherent sentence.
"We know, you're married, but there is no way she could ever find out.

Men are far more capable of deploying very clever schemes that serve as the means to the same end than women generally credit them with. A smart, beautiful girl, who underestimates guys in general, make a perfect target. They are often victimized over and over. Sure, they may enjoy the pleasure sex brings, but not the bad taste left behind from a guy who knew all along he was out for one thing - "hit it, and quit it."

I was that guy. I know that guy. I have insight to help you identify that guy.

I am sure that every girl at one time or another have been hurt by that guy. He appears as an angel of light. He has the rock-hard abs and hard body. He has the charm, says all the right things, will look deep into your eyes and speaks exactly the right words. This guy will use the same wit that has served him well and knows how to make you laugh. His timing is precise and has a certain machismo, or rather, a quiet confidence that we all tend to find attractive in the opposite gender..

His package (of schemes) include sincerity, sensitivity, and he knows all of the ways to connect with you on a level you never even realized existed. His focus is on you but not to the point it becomes creepy.

For the sake of setting the stage, you are in a club or bar. He has already successfully ushered you away from the bar to a table. He will always invite your friends along. He knows that to successfully seduce you, he must showcase his charisma to your friends.

This guy will assert his independence. He will periodically leave you alone with your thoughts and depend on a flurry of positive feedback from your friends. He appears oblivious as he chats with his buddies that you and your friends keep glancing in his direction.

He will leave you alone only long enough for you to see him interacting with his buddies. His laugh will dominate the group and he will, by all appearance's, seem to be the Alpha among his peers.
When he returns, he will keep his smile alive, but contribute very little to the conversation. He is looking for clues about the private exchange you shared with your friends in his absence. Once, he has amassed enough data that things are proceeding to schedule, you will find him occupying a position that is noticeably closer to you. He has advanced all the way to the very edge of entering your personal space. That is when he goes to work on your subconscious.
He will initiate a conversation about relationships, which leads to past relationships, and the heartache he has suffered at the hands of some Jezebel he had fallen for. He knows that everyone in the group can relate to heartache and knows that his tale will elicit strong feelings of empathy/sympathy.

Now, he shows you that he has the right attitude. He will use phrases like, "take it one day at a time." or that he will never give up on finding love. His eyes will inevitably find yours during or just after he finishes that line.

His goal is to ultimately bring sex into the conversation. Don't think he doesn't know what number drink you and your girlfriends are on. He knows when inhibitions have been drowned enough to introduce that topic. And, he will not just blurt out, "Hey, so do you girls like sex?"

He will ask questions that are unassuming and most likely direct it toward one of your friends.

Depending on how it is received, you suddenly notice, he has inched his way right into your "personal space." Expect him to touch you on the arm or shoulder often and whenever the topic starts to get hot. He will use words like "passion" and touch you physically on the arm, the knee, simultaneously. The touch is brief and non-threatening, but it connects him with a state of arousal.

He knows that this practice over time will eventually lead to generating a strong association. He wants his touch alone to have a power strong enough to re-stimulate you and return you to that aroused state.

Every time he uses words like this and touches you, he is hoping to generate a relationship between arousal and his touch. He knows how to steer the conversation so that it becomes arousing. He elicits thoughts in you of past experiences of great pleasure and then by setting up a connection that links him with those moments.
You suddenly discover that you are starting to lust after him. He knows that moment like he knows the way home. Your facial expressions, body language, and impaired inhibitions has betrayed your confidence. He has read all of the signals and knows that you will not only agree to sex, but in some cases, you will push for it.
I hope what I just shared exposes guys who get what they want, but leave a trail of broken hearts behind them.

I hope this was helpful. I am not indentured by an bro-code. I realize that not many strait girls have access to a strait guy, especially a long-retired seditionist to pose their questions. Questions a gay male friend is unable to answer.

So, if you want to know about a guy and if he is a player or a legitimate candidate for a relationship, then know you now have a big resource right here.