He Kissed Me Like I

Was His Sister, and I

Knew I
Was Alone Again.
Just two weeks ago he’d been chasing me like he was a
hunter and I was the prize he’d been searching for his
entire life.
“You’re so beautiful,” John would text me out of nowhere in the middle of the day.

A smile would bloom on my face.

I’d blush. I’d feel this heat in my chest and this wonderful, terrible hope growing in me.
I’d feel myself start to fall…

“I could fall in love with you,” he whispered after the first time we “made love,” “had
sex,” “hooked up.”

Whatever you want to call it, it was amazing.

I wanted him from the very first moment we met, but I made him wait. I wanted him to
feel like he “earned” me.

But it was our fourth date and we were kissing on the couch…

And I inhaled the good masculine smell of him and felt the strength in his arms…
CLECK HERE TO MAKE YOUR WOMEN WORESHIP

And I felt so safe and protected and desired…

And afterwards we lay there tangled in each other.

He ran his fingers through my hair…

As I lay my head against his chest and listened to

his heartbeat, I let myself believe in some way that maybe,
just maybe, it was beating for me…
And we had two perfect weeks before “you
know what” happened.

Two perfect weeks of flirty and sexy texts and laughing in

bed and talking in vague terms about the soft-focus far-off
future…
Letting the walls I’d built around my heart – brick after bitter
brick – start to fall.

And then… “you know what” happened.

Twenty passionate texts a day turned to ten boring ones.

And “I can’t wait to see you,” turned to “I’ve been really busy with work.”

And then suddenly, like a bad nightmare I’d had again and again and again…

I was the one chasing him and feeling disgusting and hating myself for it.

And then we got coffee and the table between us felt like the Grand Canyon.

And while he used to pull me towards him, pick me up in his arms and kiss me like a
movie star.
 He just bent down a little and kissed me like his sister and
walked away a ghost.
And I knew I would never hear from him again.

“Kate, I thought you finally learned this

with Sean,”
My best friend Sally said as she hugged me while I sobbed.
Sally, whose idea of a “successful relationship” was a guy remembering her name after
a one-night stand, or paying for the Uber ride home.

She showed up with ice cream and bad advice 33 minutes after I texted her.

“The guy you want, Kate? He doesn’t EXIST. You would have found him by now.”

“You’re better off just being alone.”

I lay there that night, hugging my pillow.

Alone. Just like she said.

Feeling a raw wound where all my hope used to be.

Thinking about Bill who I met at a drunken party back in college.

Or Mark from work who chased me and chased me until I finally agreed to go out with
him. We had three dates and then he wouldn’t talk to me and never looked me in the eye
again.

Or Chris who I was even engaged to. Who I spent 5 years with, only 2 of which were any
good… because I didn’t want to be alone.

So I lay in bed staring at the ceiling and feeling the tub of ice cream rumble in my belly,
and the nausea in my heart…

I thought about starting over again and wanted to sob…

Going on “Tinder” or “OK Cupid” or whatever weird dating “app” people were using
these days since no guys actually just walked up and asked you out anymore.

And I thought about John. And how sincere he had seemed.

And how you couldn’t fake looking at at a woman like that.

And wondering… what happened?

Wondering why he pulled away.

Wondering what I could do to make him want me again…
Wondering what I could do to make him chase
me and hunt me and…

Make him worship me the way I

so desperately wanted him to.
“Hello, it’s Michael,” the deep, kind voice said as I stared at a
bald guy with penetrating eyes on my phone screen.
We were “Skyping.” I’d been working to talk to him for about 3 weeks. I’d tried
everything.

See, his name is “Michael Fiore,” and when I’d scoured the internet trying to find
out WHY John pulled away…

Michael’s name kept on coming up again and again.

He’d written some popular books. He’d created these “programs” you could buy online
about getting your ex back and using text messages to bring the romance back. And how
to understand the truth about men.
 I’d even seen a video of him on “The Rachael Ray Show” and
“liked” his page on Facebook — just like over 2 million other
women.

And I hoped and prayed and hoped again that he could help me…

“Hi, Mike, uhh… my name is Kate and… uhh…” I babbled.

I couldn’t believe I was finally talking to him.

I mean, I’d had to work hard to get this “interview.”

I’d told him I had a blog and a podcast and wanted to interview him.

Because… well, because his staff said that he was really busy. His staff said he didn’t do
one-on-one consulting.

“Hi, Michael. Hi, hi. um. It’s really nice to meet you,” I said.

“Yeah, you too. So, how can I help you? Are we recording? What do you want to talk
about?” he said and I felt ice in my heart.

What was he going to say if he found out I lied?

“Umm. So, I wanted to talk to you about why men pull away,” I said.

“Like, all the women in my… uhh… audience talk about this, like…”

“Like it starts out great and then after a few

months or years or whatever, things
change, and you
become invisible?” he interrupted.
“Yeah, how did you…?” I asked.

He stopped me right away.

“I get this one a lot. A lot. Every day. It’s the big question.

And it’s the question I… uh… What’s the name of your show again? I
know everybody in this niche and I’ve never heard of you, so…”

“Um, it’s uhh…” I scrambled for a name. I’m not creative. I never have been.

I decided to tell the truth and hope hope hope it was OK.
“Um. I don’t actually have a show or anything. I’m just a woman from the Midwest
and…” the tears started flow.

“I just don’t know what to do. I met this guy. And I thought he was different, but he
wasn’t. And it hurts so much and I feel so stupid.”

I told him the whole story. The whole story about John. The whole story about every
man, my whole life.

“Listen, Kate, I feel for you. You’re not stupid. You just fell in
love. And I want to help you. I do. But…”

“Do you want me to tell you what

you want to hear…
Or Do You Want Me to Tell You The Truth?”
I felt confused. He was staring right at me. Right through me.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

I heard defeat in his voice. He suddenly seemed exhausted.

“Look, I’ve been doing this a long time,” he said. “I’ve helped a lot of people. A lot of
women. A lot of men.”

“And a few years ago I decided I wanted to do something scary…

“How to make him worship you like the queen you want him to.”

“That’s perfect!” I said.

“How much? I don’t have much money but if you let me
do a payment plan or something I…”

“No, that’s the thing, Kate…

I don’t sell it. Not to anyone.”
“I made it and I invited a few women to look at it…
and it didn’t go well.”
“It wasn’t what they wanted to hear.”

“They got mad. Really mad.”

“They couldn’t handle it.”

“They wanted the lie and hated me for telling them the truth.”

He paused for moment, like he was thinking.

“I feel for you, Kate. But… uhh… it’s nice meeting you… I need to…” he looked away,
grabbing for the mouse.

He was turning me away.

“Wait!” I said, “I want to hear the truth. I want to hear the truth, Michael. Whatever
it is.”

“No matter how much it hurts. I’m not a little girl anymore. I don’t need fantasy.”

“I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to have to date again.”

He bit his lip. He weighed it in his mind.

“I shouldn’t do this,” he said. “Every guy I know told me I shouldn’t even have created
this thing. They said it would destroy my career.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go. It’s been nice meeting you. Good
luck.”

And then I crawled into bed and cried.

I tried creating a new Tinder profile but every selfie I took
all I could see was the sadness in my eyes.
I tried to write Michael again.
I sent him messages on Skype.
I tried to email his PR people.

I’m not proud of it, but I begged…

And After 3 Days,

Something Wonderful Happened.
 I got an email from an address I didn’t recognize. An email
from somebody at Michael’s company, “Digital Romance,
Inc.”

DR
From: anne@digitalromanceinc.com
to Kate Murray
Kate. Hi. You don’t know me. I work for Mike. I can help you. I can send you the
program Mike talked about.

I’ve been through it. It’s tough. It’s painful. It goes against everything I thought I
knew about men but … it works. It saved my relationship.

I’ll send it to you but you have to PROMISE me you won’t share it with anyone else.

PROMISE me. And you have to PROMISE me you’ll have an open mind.

And you have to PROMISE me you won’t tell Mike.

And you have to PROMISE me you’ll do what it says. I did. It saved my relationship.
I want it to save yours too.

— Anne

I wrote back, “YES!”

4 hours later, I got a link and a login to a website.
She was right. It was hard to watch. Hard to listen to. There were videos and worksheets
and these very specific techniques to use…

All this stuff about men’s psychology.

What it’s really like to be a man. What men really think of women.

And WHY… really WHY they pull away (and my God it is not what I thought at all.)

I felt sick the next day. So nervous.

Like I was standing on a ledge 40 feet up and hoped like hell the bungie cord would stop
me from falling to my death.

I’d tried texting John a couple times over the last few weeks but… nothing.

But this time I tried something different.

I sent him a simple three word text I learned from
Michael and felt my heart in my throat as I hit send.
And this time… just ten minutes later… John answered.
And he asked me if I wanted to get together for a drink.

And instead of being coy or playing games or trying to seduce him, I did what the
program said…

First, I used the “Testosterone

Telepathy” Technique I’d learned…
It’s simple. Just 3 words. But he looked at me confused.

He looked me right in the eye and I saw his jaw relax and he blinked a few times like he
was waking up from a dream.

And suddenly it’s like he was there again.

That night, he came to my place and we just cuddled and talked…

Over the next few weeks, day by day, I used the program. I printed out the worksheets. I
watched the videos over and over.

It wasn’t what I wanted to be true. But slowly, day by day,

doing what it said, accepting that it might be true.
It worked.
Suddenly John was texting me again…
He was chasing me again.

He was looking at ME when we went out to dinner.

He was telling me how beautiful I was…

Over and over I caught him staring at me with hunger in his eyes…

And when he kissed me it was primal and passionate and deep and…

And before I knew it, he and I were

a “we” and I suddenly didn’t feel very alone at
all.

“What the hell happened to you

two?”
Sally asked as I told her all about my new boyfriend.
“Did you drug him, is that it? Because that was OVER. Like, I was ready to stage an
intervention if you even mentioned his name again.”

“I can’t tell you,” I said. “I just… I learned a few things.”

“What things? Tell me.”

I held out. I’d promised not to tell anyone. PROMISED.

Sally is VERY persistent, but eventually she gave up and went home.

I wrote Anne and told her how grateful I was.

But the next day, I felt ice in my veins and fear in my heart like I was being hunted by
an angry tiger.
Because my printouts, my marked-up worksheets, all the amazing techniques and tricks
and methods Michael had created and Anne had risked her job to send to me…

They were gone.

“Do you really buy this crap?”

Sally asked when I got her on the phone.
“You shouldn’t have done that. I can’t believe you!” I whisper-screamed, not wanting
John to hear me from the other room where he was getting ready for work after another
blissful night together.

“This? This is what you did with John?,” she asked with sheer disbelief in her voice.

“Yeah, it works, OK. It worked for me. I was pissed off about it at first, but I’d rather
be happy than right, OK? Now give it back,” I begged.

“I will. I will,” Sally said. “But I’m gonna try it first. With Jeremy. I’ve been seeing him
for a whole two weeks. I want to see what happens when I do this. What have I got to
lose besides some not-bad sex?”

Sally texted me three days later.

I can’t show you what she said, but it rhymes with “Holy Mitt!”

“Jesus, he asked me to go to his brother’s wedding with him.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I asked him if he was high. And then… then I said yes.

“We need to make copies,” Sally said, “We need to give this to your sister . We need to
give this to your mom and Debby and …”
 “No, I promised. I promised I wouldn’t share it,” I said.
“Yeah, you didn’t share it. I stole it. Blame me,” she replied.

And that’s how it got out.

Not too far, at first.

Just eight of our friends.

Eight women who used to get together once a week to complain about our
crappy relationships and our crappy marriages and how it’s impossible to find
guys who wanted to actually commit or treat you the way you deserve to be
treated.

Me, Sally, my friend Amanda whose husband finally put down his
damn phone and looked at her when she learned this one tiny secret…

My sister who got her ex to come crawling back on his knees.

And four more of our closest friends all giggling like school girls and feeling
happy in a way I never thought was possible.