Orange-ish
I know this may take away from some of my manliness, but I love a good coffee shop. I’m not one of these assholes whose order requires an outrageous abundance of punctuation, though. When I order I start out by saying “vanilla” and then follow up with some coffee related word I heard on the Travel channel and hope that it actually means something so I don’t look like an idiot in front of the extremely attractive waitresses and patrons. These attractive ladies are the one and only reason I like coffee shops. That and to bring my laptop and act like I’m writing a screenplay like 90% of the male coffee shop douches that spend several hours typing three words at a time then looking around for approval.
I tried hitting on some of these waitresses before and by hitting on them I mean I would try to make eye contact. Then they would smile and I would think “oh, she’s in love with me and she wants to have at least 3 million of my babies. That’s when I would usually freak out thinking that 3 million is way too many babies and I don’t know if I could deal with that kind of commitment, or amount of doctor’s bills.
One night, however, I started hitting it off with a waitress real nice. She was wearing an orange-ish colored sweater and since I didn’t know her name I that’s exactly what I called her, “orange-ish”. I realize waitresses are paid to be nice to you, but I swear this was a different. I was even coming up with great lines like “I’ll take another one of these, but this time try to give me my money’s worth. The last one was at least 90% foam.” She laughed and we made out in my mind before falling in love forever.
You see, before I even thought about asking her out, I was golden. I could have made her run away with me at any time. Then reality started to set in when a friend of mine looks at me and says “get those goddamn cartoon hearts out of your eyes and just ask for her number.” Now, I had never approached a random girl I didn’t really know and ask her out before. Plus she was a waitress, which puts in place a whole new dynamic. I don’t want to just be another creepy customer and if it goes terribly I know I’ll never be able to go to that coffee shop again. Far too much pressure for my stupid head to handle.
So I tried to pull from all these articles and websites I’ve read about picking up women. The first thing that came to mind was to just walk up to her and say “I have a quick question” and when she says “sure” I would say “are you single?” I don’t exactly know what the point to doing that was, but I did it anyways. She said “yes” and I about passed out because I realized I would have to keep faking confidence and awkwardly fumbling over words for at least a couple more minutes.
I also remembered reading about how you should ask for her email address instead of her phone number for some reason. This is where it gets real embarrassing. Before I could ask for her email address she offered her phone number number to me. Instead of just saying “kthxbye” before sprinting out the door, number in hand, I say “oh, just give me your email address”. What. An. Idiot. I realized what I had done almost immediately and already decided that I would never email nor talk to this girl ever again.
After I got home and before I cried myself to sleep I figured I would do what I do best and that is stalk research her further. So I got on Facebook and when I found her I let out a deep sigh of relief. Her profile picture was her at what looked to be a party with a red plastic cup in her hand and her arms around what seemed to be two college football players. I took solace in the fact that I had just dodged the bullet of getting several different STDs, violent threats from other men and a black baby that she would try to convince me is mine.
Category: General Posts
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