delicioustacos

Seriously: do not read this if it’s about you.

A little background.  Remember the future wife?  I prayed to God that I meet my future wife at the Short Stop; that night a hot chick talked to me.  I  went out with her, and a) I wasn’t that into her and b) I kind of blew it.

More background:  last week I went out with a girl off OkCupid.  She was kind of (REDACTED), but a) really, really, really beautiful and b) turned out to be literally my next door neighbor.  Like, she told me a bunch of stories about my cat.  I (REDACTED), but God damn she was fucking gorgeous.  One of those girls— like, beauty is just the absence of ugly.  It’s impossible to describe a beautiful woman’s face.  For a guy, you can say “strong jaw,” “high cheekbones,” etc. etc., or “chiseled” features, but for a girl, it’s basically— all beautiful women have the face of a six year old white child. And she does.  And I took her home; it got physical. We didn’t fuck but (REDACTED). But it was a win. I texted her the next day and said come over Friday and have some chicken.

Nothing back.  Nothing for days.  You start thinking– oh shit, did I blow it? Did I have no game, and should have waited, etc.  Well, fuck that.  Fuck “game.”  If you even have to think about game you have already lost.  I text girls when I want to see them.  Or when I think of a funny text.  I call them when I feel like talking to them.  Which is rarely.  The second you start communicating with a script and an agenda you are completely fucked; you are trapped in this counterintuitive, mercenary process, undermining yourself at every turn.
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