Page 54 of Falling Off Script

“But now?” he continues. “She’s asking questions. Like, ‘What do you mean by that?’ and ‘Where did you learn this?’ And I... I don’tknowwhat I mean. I just memorizedthe videos.”

Ah.

“Okay,” I say. “So now we’ve entered the advanced phase. She’s testing you.”

“She asked if I meditate,” he blurts. “So I said yes. Now I have a meditation app I haven’t opened and I panic every time she mentions mindfulness.”

The guys laugh. I don’t. Because this — this is where guys quit. The first time the persona needs maintenance.

“You listen to me,” I say, voice low. “Womenwilltest you. That doesn’t mean you abandon your frame. That means youhold it. You’re not lying. You’re evolving. You’re becoming the version of yourself whodoesmeditate. Eventually.”

Matt frowns. “But what if she’s not testing me? What if she’s... just paying attention?”

That one lands with a thud.

I pause. Adjust my stance.

“She’s paying attention,” I say carefully. “Sure. But don’t mistake interest for interrogation. Women want to feel you’re solid. That you know who you are.”

“But I don’t,” he says quietly. “I know who you told me to be. I just thought if I acted that way long enough, I’d become it.”

There’s a silence.

Even the guys in the back stop fidgeting.

“That’s the point,” I say, slower now. “Repetition becomes instinct. You’re laying down new tracks. Neuroplasticity. Alpha reconditioning.”

He nods, but it’s shaky.

“I mean...” he mutters, “I literally had to Google what a Syrah was before I ordered it for her. And I hate salmon. Ialmost gagged. But she looked impressed, so I just... kept chewing.”

Laughter. Nervous. But real.

“I ordered for her, like you said,” he adds. “Took the lead. She smiled. But then she asked whatmyfavorite meal was, and I couldn’t remember the last time I had one that wasn’t performative.”

My jaw tightens. Not visibly. But I feel it.

He leans forward. Eyes sharp now, not just anxious. Searching.

“Adrian... how do you know when it’s real?”

The question hits harder than it should.

I glance around. The other guys are quiet. Watching me like I’m supposed to have the answer laminated in my back pocket.

“Real takes time,” I say automatically.

Matt doesn’t blink.

“And... what if the ‘me’ she’s falling for doesn’t exist?”

I freeze for a fraction of a second. Just long enough to register it.

The guy who used to flinch when a woman looked at him is now out here quoting polarity theoryanddismantling his own emotional façade.

He’s doing it. And it’s working. But maybe too well.

And maybe — just maybe — he’s not the only one who’s been faking it so long he doesn’t remember where the mask ends.

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