Page 34 of Falling Off Script

Adrian’s smile sharpens. “Wrong,” he says. “They want connection. Confidence just gets you through the door. Connection gets you the weekend. Or the wedding. Or the 2a.m. phone call where she says, ‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’”

Wow. Did he just recite his own imaginary sext?

The camera catches a wide shot. They’re all watching him. Hanging on every word like he’s Moses, about to lead them out of the dating desert. And Adrian sees it. Feeds off it.

“But today,” he says, “we’re not learning how to pick up women.”

And this bootcamp costs three grand. Just saying.

“So here’s what I actually believe.”

Then, that shift in tone. Like he’s changing gears from content creator to cult leader.

“It’s not about tricks. It’s not about domination. It’s not even about women.”

Blink. Blink.

“It’s about men.”

Oh god.

“We build our confidence with each other. We sharpen our instincts with each other. You want to be dangerous in the right way? Learn how to show up for your own life. Learn how to look another man in the eye and say, ‘I’ve got you.’”

A few guys shift forward like he just unlocked a new cheat code.

“Because the truth is, you can’t connect with a woman until you’ve got something solid under your own feet. You don’t need to be perfect. But you need to be present. You need to be willing.”

I’m ready to roll my eyes. But for some reason, I don’t.

“We train together. We fall apart together. We rebuild together. That’s what this room is for.”

He paces slower now, voice softened like he’s not performing anymore—just remembering. Or pretending to.

And me—

I’m still on my couch, holding my tea like it’s a stress ball, staring at a man who has just made “bros before hoes” sound like a spiritual awakening.

And what’s worse?

There’s a tear in my eye.

An actual, unsanctioned tear.

I pause the video on his face. His eyes are crinkling. The smile’s soft. It’s the kind of look you want to believe in. Trust.

And that’s what pisses me off the most.

He’s gettingbetterat it.

He tells a story about screwing up a date because he was too busy trying to sound smart. About a girl who asked what he was feeling and he panicked and told her his SAT score.

The room laughs. But he doesn’t.

“I didn’t know how to tell her the truth,” he says. “Which was: I’m terrified you’ll like me and then realize I’m nothing.”

I pause the video.

Goddammit.

---