Once Upon A Time, on a comfortably chill December afternoon I was manning the cash register at my job, Panera. Throughout my college career, I have been trying to figure out where the beautiful women were gathered during the day. After much searching I could not find their location. Then, I started working at Panera. Jesus Fuck My Tight Asshole. There are at least 3 HB8.5's here at any given time. Who knew they were all hanging out at Panera?
Anyways, back to my story. In walked in her. A solid HB9. Let's call her Catherine because her beauty and her gorgeous locks rivaled that of Catherine, The Duchess of Cambridge. Also, because her name was Catherine. She walked in and came up to my register. Fuck yes! Or OH FUCK!?
I decide to go for it. While she is ordering I strike up conversation. Playful teasing, speaking with confidence, holding great eye contact, the whole deal. Then, she gives me 'tha look.' I see it in her eyes, she's thinking "Oh Vlad, I'm going to eat your dick after I eat this Bacon Turkey Bravo with no tomato, Bravo Sauce on the side and this Cherry and Cheese Danish." As I hand her receipt, I say "Hm, you seem cool. You know what? Gimme your number" and I print off another receipt, hand it to her and a pen.
She gives me her digits right there. This is kind of an ego boost to me because I've tried this in the past and have been met with failure. But here I am, getting this chick's number while wearing this goofy-ass apron. Sick dawg. Things are going well. Then, I get off of work...
The time is 5:30pm, I'm off work and I'm going to print shit off for a class. Then it hits me, 'Hey Vlad, you've got free time tonight. Call Catherine up and see if she wants to go get some muthafuggin ice-cream or some sheit.' Great idea inner me. So, I call her up but with a slight twinge of doubt because of my recent realization of my overwhelming amount of failures per underwhelming amount of success. What the fuck, I'll give it a shot.
The phone rings. It keeps ringing. It's getting to the point where it's about to go to voicemail. Then, it's answered.
"Hello? Is this Catherine?"
*well shit, she answered*
"I just got off work, I want some ice-cream. Let's go get ice-cream."
"I can't because I'm at the mall right now
"Ditch the mall. Come get ice-cream with me dawg"
"I can't. I'm trying to get a haircut because my head caught fire."
"Oh I see... Wait... what?"
"It's windy, I was smoking. My hair was burned by the lighter and some embers. It just kinda caught fire."
I've been a bit down on myself for the past 24hours because of my recent realization of my lack of success with chicks despite everything. I thought I have heard every reason to not go hang out with me. It's not that I doubt that her hair caught fire. It's that this was the first time a chick said that she could not hangout because her hair caught fire. This is fucking hilarious to me. So, I say "well... that's the first time I've heard that one." It seemed funny to say in my head, but out loud it came across as beta, needy, afc as fuck, as if i get rejected often, everything you don't want to sound.
The moment those words exited my suck hole, I knew I diddly done goofed. I sounded beta affffff. And it didn't exactly get better. We exchanged a few more awkward words. Then she says "ok, I'll text you."
This could mean two things. It could mean that despite me sounding like a bit of a puss, I still had a really good 1st impression and she still wants to hang, she just wants to text me first. Or it could mean that she only wants me to text her when she texts me, and she won't text me, therefore, don't text her.
No matter. I'm at this point where Idgf, so I won't text her first again. Unless I'm compelled to text her in the unlikely situation that I see someone's head catch fire and I'm reminded of her.