Restaurant Girls are too Coy, and Other Stories
Why does it seem like you can never get anywhere with girls at restaurants if you work with them? If you casually mention to one of them that there should be some getting together time, she might laugh and say something to the effect of how awesome it would be while walking away and you're standing there wondering if you were taken seriously. That and the fact that all they seem to want to do is get drunk, smoke weed, and have sex anyway makes me wonder if they're worth worrying about at all.
But I digress. I'm much more at home engaging in witty banter over some cheese fries and making fun of the awkward manner of whoever is sitting next to us. Okay, it doesn't really have to be cheese fries, it could be cheese sticks but you get the idea.
I must admit to being a little confused by the hot girl at work feeding me all those lines and then leaving me alone to do all the follow up work if I was interested. I don't know if I was interested, so much as I was intrigued. What kind of time could I really have with the she-devil that didn't involve dirty sex and downing endless series of shots at some non descript bar, or listening to her tell me that she couldn't hang out that night because she was shopping with her friends for furniture. Why wouldn't she take ottoman advice from me?
Rock Star's Sister
So last night I was at Starbucks drinking a tall caramel mocha latte, or whatever they call coffee and chocolate for 4 bucks, and one of my friends was amazed that the resume I sent to a girl got zilch response. He literally said, "What? She didn't respond? That's like the most original idea I've ever heard!" Naturally this requires some back story for you readers.
A few months ago my friend Rock Star's sister came to church. She was flirty, cute, outgoing, and most important of all - seemingly obtainable. The down low was that she wasn't seeing anyone, lived an hour away from the rest of her family, and with her sister. After rocking her world at a local Mexican restaurant that my local church clique and I used to go to on a near weekly occasion I thought I was in. After making her laugh at least 12 times by my humbly inestimatable count I knew I was in. The next night at Cheddars when she started talking about how she was looking for someone "real" who would call her and that she wanted marriage, I was practically seeing stars. On her way out to the car I made my move. Slipping up to her as her back was turned while she was opening Rock Star's car door I told her, "If you give me your number, I'll call you tomorrow."
As she quickly wrote down her number, my heart was filled with Jesus type feelings about our future marriage and what we would name our children. Later when she never returned my calls I had to just imagine what our future dates would be like, and then weeks later I had to imagine what it would be like just talking to her again. After that I imagined a world where you can get numbers from girls who call you back.
Eventually I got sick of her not calling me back and decided to be a little bit shall we say pro-active about it? I had this thought that when you're applying for a new job that you put out a resume and list your accomplishments and what you will do for the company and why they should hire you and so on, and so I thought that if you laid all that out for a girl it would make things a lot simpler. Unfortunately right when I had almost got up the willpower to complete said resume and give it to her somehow, I was derailed for a few months by Massage Demon. The saga of Massage Demon is a blog for another day. Perhaps even tomorrow!
The resume package consisted of letters of character reference from a close personal friend of mine, a close friend's dad, and a pastor. My friend was all for the idea. I told him about, and I had a written letter in my hands the next week. FYI for humanity out there: that's what friends do for each other. My friend's dad, being the old man that he is, was a little cautious and wanted to make sure that I had clear cut intentions. Additionally, he also wanted to let me know exactly how much his opinion was potentially worth to a girl that he had never met, which was zero. As much as I appreciated his vote of confidence, I told him that I would still like to get that letter from him. The "pastor" was actually a friend of mine who used to be a youth pastor and was a licensed reverend so he was technically okay to address the signature portion of his letter with the word "Reverend" at the end.
No one in my family thought it was a good idea. My dad said that I should just write her a short note, and my mom said it was definitely a horrible idea. However, these are the same parents who are convinced that I will end up gay and stabbed to death on a street corner somewhere when I move to New York. They are scared to death of the unknown and tragically paranoid of new ideas and innovation.
I added a mix cd and an 8x10 glossy headshot of me to the overall package in addition to spending about 2 hours on the actual resume itself where I listed my church attendance and missionary trips since childhood, as well as the mentally handicapped kid that I led to the Lord one time. Obviously it was a hard sell, but i just knew that she was buying. I mean, how could she not? Seriously I mean. I'm charming, possess slightly above average looks, and have ambitious drive. What's not to like?
Due to circumstances beyond my control however, the package did not wind up in the hands of Rock Star's sister until she had a boyfriend. I place the great majority of the blame on Rock Star who did not know his sister's address, and was unable to think up any clever schemes to get her address. This would have presented no trouble at all if it was a Three's Company episode.
Note: The previous sentence was devoted to the memory of John Ritter, and any proceeds will be donated to his favorite charity.
Eventually Rock Star greeted me the happy news that his sister loved the package. And that was all I ever heard on the subject, because you know it's not like she would call or write back or anything. I mean, like you know, why would she do that?
So, in the end, the most original idea to snare a girl that has been set forth since the beginning of time failed miserably. I bet Michael Douglas didn't have it this tough.
But I digress. I'm much more at home engaging in witty banter over some cheese fries and making fun of the awkward manner of whoever is sitting next to us. Okay, it doesn't really have to be cheese fries, it could be cheese sticks but you get the idea.
I must admit to being a little confused by the hot girl at work feeding me all those lines and then leaving me alone to do all the follow up work if I was interested. I don't know if I was interested, so much as I was intrigued. What kind of time could I really have with the she-devil that didn't involve dirty sex and downing endless series of shots at some non descript bar, or listening to her tell me that she couldn't hang out that night because she was shopping with her friends for furniture. Why wouldn't she take ottoman advice from me?
Rock Star's Sister
So last night I was at Starbucks drinking a tall caramel mocha latte, or whatever they call coffee and chocolate for 4 bucks, and one of my friends was amazed that the resume I sent to a girl got zilch response. He literally said, "What? She didn't respond? That's like the most original idea I've ever heard!" Naturally this requires some back story for you readers.
A few months ago my friend Rock Star's sister came to church. She was flirty, cute, outgoing, and most important of all - seemingly obtainable. The down low was that she wasn't seeing anyone, lived an hour away from the rest of her family, and with her sister. After rocking her world at a local Mexican restaurant that my local church clique and I used to go to on a near weekly occasion I thought I was in. After making her laugh at least 12 times by my humbly inestimatable count I knew I was in. The next night at Cheddars when she started talking about how she was looking for someone "real" who would call her and that she wanted marriage, I was practically seeing stars. On her way out to the car I made my move. Slipping up to her as her back was turned while she was opening Rock Star's car door I told her, "If you give me your number, I'll call you tomorrow."
As she quickly wrote down her number, my heart was filled with Jesus type feelings about our future marriage and what we would name our children. Later when she never returned my calls I had to just imagine what our future dates would be like, and then weeks later I had to imagine what it would be like just talking to her again. After that I imagined a world where you can get numbers from girls who call you back.
Eventually I got sick of her not calling me back and decided to be a little bit shall we say pro-active about it? I had this thought that when you're applying for a new job that you put out a resume and list your accomplishments and what you will do for the company and why they should hire you and so on, and so I thought that if you laid all that out for a girl it would make things a lot simpler. Unfortunately right when I had almost got up the willpower to complete said resume and give it to her somehow, I was derailed for a few months by Massage Demon. The saga of Massage Demon is a blog for another day. Perhaps even tomorrow!
The resume package consisted of letters of character reference from a close personal friend of mine, a close friend's dad, and a pastor. My friend was all for the idea. I told him about, and I had a written letter in my hands the next week. FYI for humanity out there: that's what friends do for each other. My friend's dad, being the old man that he is, was a little cautious and wanted to make sure that I had clear cut intentions. Additionally, he also wanted to let me know exactly how much his opinion was potentially worth to a girl that he had never met, which was zero. As much as I appreciated his vote of confidence, I told him that I would still like to get that letter from him. The "pastor" was actually a friend of mine who used to be a youth pastor and was a licensed reverend so he was technically okay to address the signature portion of his letter with the word "Reverend" at the end.
No one in my family thought it was a good idea. My dad said that I should just write her a short note, and my mom said it was definitely a horrible idea. However, these are the same parents who are convinced that I will end up gay and stabbed to death on a street corner somewhere when I move to New York. They are scared to death of the unknown and tragically paranoid of new ideas and innovation.
I added a mix cd and an 8x10 glossy headshot of me to the overall package in addition to spending about 2 hours on the actual resume itself where I listed my church attendance and missionary trips since childhood, as well as the mentally handicapped kid that I led to the Lord one time. Obviously it was a hard sell, but i just knew that she was buying. I mean, how could she not? Seriously I mean. I'm charming, possess slightly above average looks, and have ambitious drive. What's not to like?
Due to circumstances beyond my control however, the package did not wind up in the hands of Rock Star's sister until she had a boyfriend. I place the great majority of the blame on Rock Star who did not know his sister's address, and was unable to think up any clever schemes to get her address. This would have presented no trouble at all if it was a Three's Company episode.
Note: The previous sentence was devoted to the memory of John Ritter, and any proceeds will be donated to his favorite charity.
Eventually Rock Star greeted me the happy news that his sister loved the package. And that was all I ever heard on the subject, because you know it's not like she would call or write back or anything. I mean, like you know, why would she do that?
So, in the end, the most original idea to snare a girl that has been set forth since the beginning of time failed miserably. I bet Michael Douglas didn't have it this tough.
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