This song is in my head, and the message is right-on despite the messenger.
Mr. John, Galt-in-Da-Box has learned from research and experiments that the answer to your questions are nothing, you can't, and don't waste your freaking time. "The Crown Jewel of the Colonial Federation" once revealed to me that love is like a river: She said it flows where it wants to, and follows the path made for it. You can choose to step in or out of the waterflow, but you can not wave a magic wand or buy a secret potion that will change ordained topography to bring the floodplain to where you stand. It's a hell of a lot more art than science.
Similarly, I believe those crooks selling books, videos, seminars and the like that are supposed to give you that top-secret, classified formula to make the world fall in love with you and buy your bullshit story/warehouse full of crap are largely singing a siren-song: Everybody naturally wants to believe he or she is the master of the universe and can make the unreal reality just by say-so. These hucksters cater to that part of human nature, and make phat jack doing it! Easy money: They are never asked for proof, just like the faith-healers don't get many invites to hospitals to clear out the oncology ward. Gee, I wonder why *ahem*? Of late comes back to me the adage about "fool me once, shame on you! Fool me twice, shame on me."
Closer to topical home and as a general rule, unrequited affection is almost always misplaced.
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