I’m a man. A man with very specific needs. These needs are hard to fulfill while working 60 to 70 hours a week. I wake up, go to work, get up and do it all over again Monday through Friday. Then the weekend rolls around and Rich Homie just can’t hang like he used to in college. It’s hard to stay up all hours of the night on the weekends looking for a girl desperate enough to let me seizure on top of her for five seconds. My friends from college would often compare me to a dog with that pink thing hanging out.
I am the most awkward man alive, so face-to-face interactions do not come natural to me unless I have a rapport with someone, especially with women. So I took the dive and downloaded Tinder and Bumble. Once I did, I got my college swagger back, landed some matches, and started hanging out with one lady pretty regularly when I had time. Let’s call her Catie for this story, because that’s her name.
Then, as all hookup-centered relationships go, it got boring. We started losing interest in each other and the sex was starting to get even worse than usual. We started talking less and less until there was radio silence.
I hadn’t talked to Catie in about a month until one day I was sitting at my desk and a fateful text came in: “Hey, what’re you doing?”
I replied, “Working, you?”
Catie fired back, “Sitting at my apartment, bored.”
Now here is what separates the men from the boys. When a girl shoots you a text like the one above, your response will decide your future with this girl. Now it’s on you to ask a question to try and keep the conversation going, not reply, or give a one-word answer. I’m the type of guy that usually wouldn’t reply to a text like that. Normally, I would forget the conversation even happened, but on that day, I was feeling dangerous.
I fired back, “Want to grab something to eat?”
Catie replied with, “Skip lunch and come over ;)”
Catie lives about a five-minute walk from where I work, so going over to her apartment for a quickie was doable. I was flying high, giving out air-fives to all of my nonexistent friends at work. I let her know I would be over at noon and I started to mentally prepare myself.
Then, my low self-esteem kicked in and I started to question the very obvious text. I was playing scenarios in my head. Do I go grab some condoms? Sure, but then I’m that guy who brought condoms and now it’s looking like I’m pressuring her into sex. What if I show up with out condoms? Do I go bare-back and risk giving this girl god-knows-what disease? I was a little nervous. I was off my game. I hadn’t had sex for about a month and I was afraid my stroke was gone. If this was an interview for future hook-ups, I would not allow myself to blow it.
I got out of my head, finished up some business, and started walking to Catie’s. I called as I was walking up to the door and there she was to meet me with a kiss. It was on- straight fireworks. This could have quite possibly been the best lunch break of my life. After we were finished, I got dressed and headed back to work.
I walked into my office 10-feet tall and pump-faked every person I walked past. It was a new day. I sat at my desk, lit a cigarette thinking about this little secret I had and no one else in the office knew about it. It was exciting. Catie was exciting.
Just then I opened my phone and shot Catie a text, “Maybe we should do lunch more often.”
Catie quickly replied, “New phone who dis?”.
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