Edit: I am sick, like, things are happening that I don’t really want to talk about. This has been this way since yesterday. There’s no way I can write an INAD:ILWMBF episode right now. So, instead, you get the thrilling conclusion of last week’s mystery. Enjoy!
Last week in TMotHGM – TSB, I impressed a girl with my frisbee skills, then went up to talk to her. I was just working up the nerve to take things to the next level by asking her what she majored in, when I was interrupted. But why was I suddenly ignoring her?
This is because one of the most spectacularly hot tennis-playing girls in the history of my college, who happens to also be a friend of a friend, walked by. And naturally I have to say hello. I’m going to be honest: blonde girls aren’t entirely my thing, although I’ve been known to make exceptions in the interest of science. My current girlfriend is deliciously brunette, though. And even if I were interested, which I wasn’t, Tennis Girl had a boyfriend. But spectacularly hot Bench Engineer didn’t know that. And, I might be wrong, but it’s my hypothesis that if you’re hitting on a hot girl and another empirically hot girl just happens to walk up to talk to you, it doesn’t hurt the cause one bit. I think there have been a few scientific studies. Or at least, you know, I read a thing on the internet.
So I chatted a bit about weekend plans, then I shooed Tennis Girl away. I turned back to bench girl.
“What are you majoring in?” Shut up. This is key information.
“Biomedical Engineering.” Ultra hot. Only a chemical engineer could steam up my glasses more than a BME girl.
But as I looked at her, something didn’t seem right. I either had a hunch or a cramp. I guessed hunch, and acted accordingly.
“No, that’s not right at all,” I said, as I visually sizing her up. “You’re too much like me. Sure you’re smart enough for BME, but by the end of the semester you’ll be checking out poetry from the library, and before you know it you’ll be an English major. I can tell these things.”
She looked back at me, eyes slightly wide, and said, “No, I don’t think so. I really like what I’m doing.” But it was easy to see that I had struck a nerve, or at least a lymph node, deep inside her. It was like she was saying lines she’d said before but didn’t honestly believe.
Clearly, I’m at the absolute pinnacle of my game. I’m unstoppable. You can’t invent a scale that I’m not off of. So, what’s my next move? How do I keep this going? How do I get her number? Do I just plan our first date right then and there?
Do you remember what this website is called?
“Well, great to meet you!” I said. And I walked away.
I never post the rest of awkward stories, because generally there’s nothing good happening after the punch line except me feeling embarrassed, but this one deserves some follow-up. About six months later, when I had almost forgotten this girl and the whole incident, I was working a shift at the restaurant where I waited tables to make rent in college when a girl and her mother sat in my section. I knew I recognized the girl, but I couldn’t place her.
When they paid their bill, it finally clicked.
“I know who you are.” I said. “You’re the girl I met on the bench when I was playing frisbee.”
She started. “That’s right!”
I had two questions for her, while her mother sat and stared as though she had never seen carbon-based life forms before.
“Can I have your phone number?” and “I forgot. What is your major?”
The answers were kind of amazing:
“Sure.” Now, of course we didn’t date. Too much time had passed. You just can’t walk away like that and expect to resume right where you left off, even 6 months later. That’s just not how these things work. I think there was one awkward coffee and then that was the end of things.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not a rock star. What was she majoring in, again?
“Actually, I switched to English.”