A True Don Juan

So, I searched online the other day for “A.J. Stanson” to see if my diary still showed up on search engines (it doesn’t) and stumbled across something that I’ve secretly withheld from you readers for a while. Yes, the truth is, I’m a Don Juan.
 
You see, a couple of years ago I (at the time being a disgruntled bachelor) decided to look to cyberspace for help in my dealings with the opposite sex. And, naturally, I was immediately met with thousands of men telling me they knew the answers to all my problems, answers that they would gladly share – some even for free!
 
Honestly, after a bit of filtering, most of the stuff I read wasn’t half bad advice (the worst complaint you could make of it is it being a little objectifying of women), though I was always troubled that it taught you perfectly well how to “pick up” women, but never explained exactly where you put them once you had them. At any rate, after pursuing my romantic education for a short while, I deemed myself a true Don Juan and decided that it was only fair that I started to share my acquired knowledge with the rest of the world.
 
So, as my internet search somewhat embarrassingly reminded me, I joined a “Don Juan” message board (with the member name A.J. Stanson) and helpfully tackled various problems had by still developing Don Juans. Examples of problems I assisted with included “I asked a girl on a date and she told me she wanted to read instead” and “A girl hit my car with a baseball bat” both to which I suggested it might be time to move on to another girl. In fact, during my brief time as a romantic guide (the website reveals it only lasted two days), most of my solutions to romantic difficulty were centered around a basic principle: “This girl doesn’t seem interested in you. There are lots of other girls. Move on.” It’s still a principle I believe in quite strongly. Lots of fish in the sea and all that.
 
Now, I’m sure it’s a bit shocking to all of you that I have such a wide variety of romantic knowledge at my disposal, but as I have previously assured you females, I promise to fully contain my charms inside this diary so as not to create any awkwardness. And, no, I’m not sharing the link I found on here so all of you twats can read my postings. You’ll have to learn how to pick up chicks for yourself.
 
Unrelatedly, Heather moved in to her dormitory on Thursday, and I haven’t heard from her since. Does anyone have any suggestions on what I can do to win her back?