Attraction and Affection in the Age of Information

Online dating is now the most popular way couples meet, and our phones and computers have become vital tools to make connections that hopefully lead to romance, sex, and love. Many men struggle with both the virtual and physical realm of seduction—and that’s where I come in.

This book covers how to:

  • Replace nervousness and anxiety with confidence
  • Make a good first impression online and in person
  • Smoothly flow from talking online to seeing her in person
  • Recognize signs of interest—and produce more of them
  • Increase excitement and close the date successfully (whatever your definition of success may be)
  • Avoid getting played in relationships
  • Avoid playing yourself

Growing up with subpar looks and swagger, I didn’t expect to one day write a book on this subject. I learned minimally about attraction from my parents, I had no siblings to take me under their wing, and I wasn’t very eager to ask my friends for advice. My stubborn tendency to learn things the hard way led to brutal trials and laughable errors throughout my early years.

Later, a nasty breakup spurred my research of seduction into hyperdrive; I spent countless hours intensely studying and training via reading books, watching videos, and perfecting my skills online and in the field. Thousands of matches, hundreds of dates, and a beautiful blend of stinging defeats and clutch wins transform my story into a detailed guide of the valuable (and painful) lessons I've learned about attraction and unlocking your true potential.

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Excerpt from The Evolution of Game © Copyright 2023 Keith Carter


A Breath of Fresh Air

We knew we had a substitute discussion leader this afternoon. A couple minutes before the blow-off class was scheduled to begin, she made her entrance. She was in her late twenties with curly brown hair, soft cheeks and lips, and a small pointy nose. She was a five-foot-six hourglass; her thighs, ass, and breasts were juicy enough to sink your teeth into, while her waist was tight and smooth. She wore white T-strap low heels and a sapphire-blue dress that ended just above her knees.

We also had a quiz scheduled this day, and she told us it would be at the end of class. She started asking us about our reading homework, but I was far more interested in her curvature than the curriculum. In the middle of the discussion, she scanned the room to ensure we were all engaged. She started to her left, then slowly panned right, seeking and receiving nods of understanding. When her hazel eyes met mine, they became locked into place. As we became brighter and more colorful to each other, the classroom around us and the students between us melted into a swirling blur of vapor. We were both mesmerized.

Then I blinked, and she snapped out of it and resumed talking. After the review, she grabbed the quizzes and stood up to begin handing them out. Then she paused, looked up, and announced, “By the way, guys, I’m working with the women’s volleyball team, and we could use some volunteers, so if anyone’s interested in the team after the quiz, come talk to me!”

I was the first one done with the quiz even after double-checking my answers, not because I was in a rush, but because I did my readings in college, and the material of this course was easy. As fun as it would be to talk to her, I definitely wasn’t going to do it in front of the whole class, so we enjoyed another glimpse of each other as I handed it in, and then I exited into the hallway.

The University of Illinois Chicago is notorious for its puzzling architecture, and most students agree that this labyrinth, the Behavioral Sciences Building, is the worst. The ground-floor layout is like looking at a honeycomb through a kaleidoscope, and the higher levels are fractured into various sections, so even if you’re on the third floor, and your class is on the third floor, you might still be on the wrong floor.

As I zigzagged through the hall, I tried to write off my crazy idea of approaching her. I went down two flights of stairs in one corner of the building and continued east to the next set. I took a right around the sharp corner of a stone wall, then a wide left around a railing. With each step and turn in all these different directions, the thought of returning to her bounced around in my mind as well. As I descended the final flight of stairs to the ground level, I assumed most students had turned in their quizzes already, and I started to worry; soon, the last student would turn in their quiz, and the substitute would pack up and be gone forever. I curved right, approached the grey daylight coming from the glass exit door, and pushed it open.

After inhaling one breath of the city’s smoggy air, I spun around and flew back in through the doors before they closed behind me. My footwork was as fast and precise as an NFL wide receiver’s as I dashed through the mountainy maze of hallways. I found myself on the fourth floor in seconds, where I slowed down to catch my breath as I made the last few turns. One male student was exiting past me as I approached the door.

I reentered the room, and there she was, all alone, collecting the tests and getting her things ready to leave. I was still panting as my momentum carried me toward her.

“Excuse me, I’m out of breath,” I let her know.

“Oh, heh,” she tittered. “I … couldn’t tell.”

“You mentioned the volleyball team,” I said, feigning innocence and curiosity. “What’s up with that?”

“Oh!” She got excited. “Sure! Let me show you. Come with me.” Her hands were full as she walked us across the short hallway to her currently vacant staffroom, which appeared to be shared by another teacher. I followed closely behind.

The door closed us in. She sat down and faced her computer and another seat, which was mine to take. As we waited for her machine to turn on, she told me her first name and explained that she was from Dallas, with plans to return at the end of the semester. Once the page loaded, she showed me a couple pictures of the team.

“Oh, cool!” I exclaimed.

Then, before giving me any details about the position, she said, “So, would you like to help?”

“Definitely!” I told her.

“Great!” She slid me a piece of paper and a pen. “Why don’t you give me your … contact information?”

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