SCAR Letter 6: The Most Dangerous Word in a Man’s Mouth — Explain

Listen.

She tests you.
Eyes narrow.
Head tilts.

“Why you?”
“You’re not my type.”
“This doesn’t make sense.”

And you answer.
You start explaining.

The second you explain—
you lose the room.

Explanation is weakness in a suit.
It smells like apology.
It reads like fear.

Every sentence is a shovel.
Each reason is more dirt.
You bury her hunger under your paragraphs.

She didn’t want your proof.
She wanted your fire.

She didn’t want your logic.
She wanted your center.

But you handed her a lecture.
You put her on the throne.
You asked for a grade.
You shrank.

That’s why she cooled.
Not because you weren’t man enough,
but because you turned into a little boy.

A boy with his hand raised:
“Did I get it right, teacher?”

Here’s the move you should have made.

She throws: “You’re not my type.”

Don’t explain.
Don’t defend.
Catch it.
Flip it.
Send it into her body.

“Yeah? And how’s your type worked out for you? That’s why you’re here with me right now.”

Logic lands in the ears.
Shadow-talk lands in the spine.
It’s a body touch that says more than reasons ever will.

SCAR Principle #6

Never explain.

Catch.
Flip.
Detonate.

Destiny, not defense.

Because the moment you explain —
you’ve already lost.

That’s the scar.
Cut clean.
So you don’t do it again.

—Uncle Woo

Explain once—and you’re erased.

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