So a girl came into the store yesterday. Jesus, she was cute. Not another cookie-cutter mallrat teenager, but rather a girl with her own personal style for a change. Great hair. Killer eyes, bespectacled. And a smile that made me want to pull out all my teeth with rusty pliers.
I don't know how to segue from "Do you need a dressing room?" to, "Fuck, you're cute. Can I have your number?" So I didn't try. And she walked out of the store and out of my evening.
But not out of my head. I had a dream about her. Met her at a club. Her name was Sarah. We talked for a spell, then she left, probably due to my aloofness. I'm even too lame to ask girls out in my fucking dreams.
The name Sarah likely came from a chick in one of my classes. There were stars around her when I saw her sitting there. But then, that was 'cause I was about to pass out, I think. I need to eat more.
My god, this is pointless.
I don't know how to segue from "Do you need a dressing room?" to, "Fuck, you're cute. Can I have your number?" So I didn't try. And she walked out of the store and out of my evening.
But not out of my head. I had a dream about her. Met her at a club. Her name was Sarah. We talked for a spell, then she left, probably due to my aloofness. I'm even too lame to ask girls out in my fucking dreams.
The name Sarah likely came from a chick in one of my classes. There were stars around her when I saw her sitting there. But then, that was 'cause I was about to pass out, I think. I need to eat more.
My god, this is pointless.