How to Make Her Brag About You Again

What to do when she stops looking at you like she once did

By: Day

When was the last time your girl bragged about you?

Called her sister just to gush about something you did.

Had her girlfriends hanging on every word over champagne, wishing they had a man like hers.

Now she doesn’t even look up when you walk in. Her thumb keeps scrolling. The hand that used to play with your hair while you drove is wrapped around her phone.

People used to ask about you and she’d talk and talk and talk.

Now it’s “Oh, he’s good,” and she changes the subject.

You tell yourself this is just what happens in relationships. Getting comfortable, right?

You used to feel like the fucking man. Just the thought of you was enough to make her burst at the seams, like a nuke going off inside the Hoover Dam.

She had to fight for you, and in your arms she felt like the luckiest girl in the world. She watched herself around you. Policed herself. Never disrespected you. You barely had to lift a finger, unless it was to curl one and say “Come here.”

Oh, it was all so easy.

Now you’re out of sync.

And here I come, kicking over the drum set to get your ass back on beat.

Do not listen to what the nice guy internet prescribes for this:

• Say sorry more.

• Buy more flowers when you fuck up.

• Be more available.

• More yes, yes, yeses.

• Text back right away.

A million simps in Target, holding her purse, nodding, next to a million girls who can barely stand them.

I’m going to put that look back on her face.

There are three ways. I’ve run all three. One by accident. One after I fucked up bad with Daisy. One Daisy ran on me, and I took notes.

I woke up at 6:30 to go to a coffee shop in Florida.

*OFF TO THE OFFICE *

Two tables over a boyfriend is sitting with his phone up like a shield. I hear him arguing with his girl as the rain pitter patters on the window.

“I forgot my water in the car, can you get it.”

“Just grab one from the register, water is free here you know!”

She snatches the keys and rushes out into the falling rain holding her notebook over her head, grabs her Owala water bottle and comes back frowning and sits down with a slam like a church bell ringing.

A cat runs by outside.

Daisy rolls in moments later while I’m lost, swimming in the words, and she sits down and startles me.

“What’s up my lady,” I say, getting up and bowing in humor.

She giggles and sits down.

“You want the latte?”

“Indeed!”

I get up, order it, and set it down in front of her with a croissant she didn’t ask for.

The girl two tables over looks up at us.

I laugh. I smirk at my girl and get back to typing.

I live in Hawaii. People look past the beauty here every Day.

That is happening inside her head right now, about you.

Love is a war and I am here to strap the greatest weapon into your clenched fists.

You learn all this for her.

Warning:

In the wrong hands these tools turn the other way and you end up like some stupid fuck samurai falling on his own sword. Just like you shouldn’t sleep with a girl you wouldn’t pray for, you shouldn’t use these on a girl you don’t love.

Your girl is hoping you read this.

WAY ONE: THE CHORUS

When David came home from killing the giant Goliath, the women poured out of every city in Israel, banging tambourines, singing, “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.”

Saul grabbed a spear. His daughter Michal heard the singing and fell in love with David. She never even saw David swing a sword or sling the rock, never saw the proof, but she heard the women praising him.

There’s a lesson in there about girls.

You need to have her see other people appreciate you.

Girls are much more made to copy than men. Other people’s perception of you raises your value in her eyes.

Let her see friends welcome you with open arms and a dap, let her see people trust your judgement, an audience respond to your work.

At the start of Daisy and my relationship I planned a date for us. It was our 3 month anniversary or something, some excuse to take her out. I bought a sparkling absinthe green dress for her and laid it across the bed. She came over.

“Put this dress on. I’m taking you somewhere fancier than fancy.”

She came out of the bathroom sparkling with emerald absinthe madness.

I wanted to drink her up.

I took her to the Restoration Hardware rooftop, the greenhouse with the fountains on top of the furniture store. Fitting, seeing how many men end up as furniture.

Weeks later she recounted this evening to her friends and she said their jaws dropped, they asked her questions all through the night about it.

“HOW DID HE KNOW TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS.”

“I can’t even get a dang foot rub.”

She felt like a million bucks. Lucky… If only those friends knew who I really was she’d laugh even louder.

What to do

Put her in rooms where the chorus can sing for you. Let other people say good things about you. Let her see your value manifest in the world.

That's the first way.

The second I learned after I fucked up with Daisy.

The third she used on me. And fuck, did it work.

I wrote down all three so you can make her look at you the way she used to.

FULL ESSAY ON SVBSTACK// DAYDAYDAY