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A Story About A Dude Who Could Not Say Hi To A Hot Babe

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I am at this famous Indian video library on William Street buying bootleg versions of Modern Family after such a long, hard and hectic day. I am testing it in the DVD player to make sure it is not something else when this blindingly hot chic, i repeat, blindingly hot chic enters and all the bu-video boys rush to tend to her needs( God!! in that moment, i wish i was one of them!!).

But as a sensible adult male, i maintain a cool detachment, give her one more glance and go back to testing my DVDs.

My mind however has not received the cool detachment memo, it tells me, “You freaking coward, get over there, say something cool and ask for her number, this is an exquisite vessel for the birth of your progeny. Do not let the male race down!!”

Me: Okay okay, relax I know what I am doing. I am descendant of Adam who has, through millennia of evolution has developed the tactics to approach a woman and blow her away with my “game”.

Mind: That’s what you keep telling yourself, I have not seen you blow away any lady lately, in fact the only blowing I know of is as you pass gas whenever a hot chic approaches.

Me: hey, that was just one time, let it go!!!

Mind: We will not argue about your competence or lack thereof regarding matters of the fairer sex, let us get back to the task at hand. Go and talk to blindingly hot chic.

Me: I am pondering about employing the blitzkrieg or undercover maneuvers of approach. What do you think?

Mind: what are you jabbering on about?

Me: Are you even my mind? Aren`t you automatically supposed to know what I mean, anyway what I mean is that, should I just walk over and ambush her with my awesomeness or should I pose like these video boys?

Mind: How about you just go, if you can move your feet that is…

Me: I do not appreciate your sarcasm. Okay, I am now going in.

Mind: I don’t see you moving and are you employing the sweating maneuver? Because your armpits are leaking faster that a torpedoed submarine. Tell me, do you intend to overwhelm her with your kavubuka?

Me: Shut up, and let me do my thing.

As I approach her, I cannot choose what to say, hi? hey? Hello? ki? whats up? Excuse me?

And while i ponder endlessly about the right choice of words she’s gone and now consigned to the shadows of my memory.

Mind: *sigh* your mother isn’t getting any grand kids, is she?

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