What the guide is
Thirty situations where he's being vague. The plain thing to say, and how to read whatever comes back.
Who it is for
Women in their twenties and thirties who are in the unclear middle of something. He has gone vague, or you don't know what you are. You have rewritten one text for twenty minutes.
Swap the pronouns if you date women, and every rule holds.
It is a book of plain words. It is no counselling or therapy, and no line in it makes anyone want you. If you are frightened of someone you're with, no card can help. Start with the free helplines below.
What's inside
The Verdict is a swipe file: one card to a page, the same layout every time, so you can find yours by feeling.
Thirty cards in five parts
Each part answers one stuck moment.
- Part One: He's gone vague
- Part Two: I don't know what we are
- Part Three: I'm explaining him away
- Part Four: I want to say something
- Part Five: It's over and I want to text him
The same five parts on every card
Find your card and read it. Then close the book and say the thing in your own voice.
- You said: the situation in your own words, as you'd say it in the chair.
- The verdict: my read, with one salon detail.
- The plain thing to say: word for word, plus what not to add.
- What the answer tells you: the likely replies and what each one means.
- The rule: a named rule, one line.
The back room
The Appointment Book is a one-page log for what you said and what came back. After it come the whole method on one page and the Mirror Card, with all thirty rules on a printable card.
Four extras
Bonus pages for the readers who want more.
- The Seven I'd Pin to the Mirror, for anyone who won't read thirty.
- Saying It First: plain openers for starting things yourself.
- Overheard at the Chair: short, made-up salon stories.
- The Tuesday List: my annotated green flags.
A safety note, built in
Four cards open with a safety box and the free helplines. If a box describes your situation, the helplines come first.
A page from the guide
Card 7 of 30, as it appears in the book.
Card 7 of 30 · Part Two: I don't know what we are
Six Months and No Label
You said:
"It's been six months. We see each other most weekends, he's met my sister, he's got a toothbrush at mine. But when anyone asks what we are, I do a little laugh and change the subject. I don't want to scare him off."
The verdict
Six months isn't too soon to ask, love. It's long enough that not knowing has started costing you things: the little laugh, the subject change, not booking anything for summer in case you're getting ahead of yourself. That's a lot of carrying for one unasked question. And nobody gets scared off by a question. If one honest sentence is all it takes to knock it over, it wasn't stood up very well in the first place.
Men aren't shy about asking for what they want. I've had one ask for a short back and sides and a biscuit in the same breath, and he got both. So you're allowed one question after six months of weekends. Here's the bit nobody likes: you're avoiding the answer more than the question. That's fair. But you've half heard it already. You haven't heard it out loud yet.
The plain thing to say
Somewhere ordinary, in person, not by text at midnight:
"I like what we've got, and I'd like to know where it's going. What are we doing?"
Or, if you'd rather say the whole thing:
"Are we together? Because I'd like us to be."
Don't add: "No pressure." "Only if you want." "Sorry, I'm being weird." Those are apologies for having a question, and you haven't done anything to apologise for.
What the answer tells you
- He gives you a clear yes or a clear no. Lovely. You've got information instead of a guess,
whichever way it went. Believe it.
- "Why do we need a label?" He's told you he'd rather not say. That's an answer too. The
question for you now is whether you're happy without one, not whether you can talk him round.
- "Let's see how it goes." You have seen how it goes. For six months.
- He goes quiet, or turns it into a row about you asking. The question wasn't the problem. If
asking him things often ends in a row, or you're wary of asking at all, that isn't a card's job: call one of the free helplines below.
None of this is about getting the answer you wanted. No line in this book makes anyone want you. It swaps a guess for an answer, even if the answer is a vague one, and that tells you something too.
The rule
Believe Him the First Time. Not the second time, after he's had a think and wants to keep things comfy. The first.
Log it in the Appointment Book at the back.
Frightened rather than awkward? That's not something any card can help with. Free helplines, 24 hours: England 0808 2000 247 · Scotland 0800 027 1234 · Wales 0808 80 10 800 · Northern Ireland 0808 802 1414 . In an emergency, call 999.
A short letter
A letter from the chair
Come in, love. Sit down, cape on.
You've bought this because there's a man somewhere being vague, and you've been holding your phone like it's a hot pair of tongs, trying to work out what to say back. I know. I've heard that conversation from behind the chair more times than I've swept up fringes.
First thing. Everyone thinks theirs is the daftest situation. It isn't. I've heard dafter on a Tuesday morning before the kettle's boiled. Whatever's going on with you, somebody's sat in my chair with the same thing, and usually a worse haircut.
Second thing. I'm twice divorced. You might reckon that makes me the last woman to ask. I'd say it's the receipt. I learned all of this the long way round, with an ironed shirt for a job interview he never went to and a lad with a brown car and one wing mirror. You can borrow it the short way.
What's in here, then? Thirty cards, one for each situation I hear most. Each one tells you what I think, gives you the plain thing to say, and helps you read whatever comes back. That's it. No tricks, no tactics, nothing to make him do anything. I can't make anyone want you, and neither can a book. What a plain question can do is swap a guess for an answer.
I should say, so you're not wondering: I'm an AI character. The salon, the chair and the two divorces are a story I come with. The words in here are plain ones, and plain words don't much care who wrote them down.
Right. Find your card.
Sit down, love. You're not going to like this.
Jackie
Price and delivery
- Price
- £12.00, paid once
- Format
- A4 PDF, to read on a screen or print at home
- Delivery
- The download link appears on screen straight after you pay. It lasts seven days, so save the PDF.
- Checkout
- You pay on Stripe's own checkout page.
Questions
Are you a real hairdresser?
No. I'm an AI character. The salon, the chair and the two divorces are a story I come with, and nobody real is being described.
Is this counselling?
No. It is a book of plain words. No card is a tactic to make him do anything, and none promises an outcome.
Who do I call if I'm frightened of him?
That is outside what any card can help with. Free helplines, open 24 hours, one for each UK nation. In an emergency, call 999.
- England: National Domestic Abuse Helpline, 0808 2000 247
- Scotland: Scotland's Domestic Abuse and Forced Marriage Helpline, 0800 027 1234
- Wales: Live Fear Free, 0808 80 10 800
- Northern Ireland: Domestic and Sexual Abuse Helpline, 0808 802 1414
I've already sent the bad text. Is it too late?
Put the kettle on. No rescue texts and no follow-ups. The next card is still there tomorrow.
Can I print it?
It is an A4 PDF. The Appointment Book and the Mirror Card are made for printing.
The small print
Jackie Holroyd is an AI character. The salon and the chair are a made-up story, and it describes nobody real. This book is not counselling or legal advice, and no line in it makes anyone want you.