“That’s not really the kind of connection I’m looking for.” I replied with a wry smile. Angela looked like she was going to say something else for a moment, but then she sighed, and drooped her shoulders.
“OK,” she said sheepishly, “it wasn’t my best line.”
“Hey,” I said, scooting next to her, and letting her rest her weightless head on my shoulder, “I appreciate the effort.”
“Just not the results.” Angela sighed, “You know, I spent hours thinking of that one.”
“I don’t think women really go for pickup lines,” I said, “I think talking to them like actual people might be an interesting tactic.”
“We’ve tried that,” she smiled ruefully up at me, “you’re no good at it.”
“It doesn’t help when you’re hovering over my shoulder, constantly giving me unwarranted advice,” I chuckled, and then changed the pitch of my voice to mimic Angela’s, “Smile, Brandon. Sit up straight! Look her in the eyes, hold the eye contact, hold it… hold it… don’t you fucking blink, you’re killing it! Hold it…Don’t look at her tits! OK, smooth recovery; hey, what’s wrong? You look like you need eye drops, holy shit, they’re red. Oh fuck, she’s getting up; quick, say something clever! Oh god, why did you say that?! Quick, uh… flex your muscles! Sing her a song! Propose to her! And… she’s gone.”
“I do not sound like that!” Angela giggled.
“That was basically a tranion of the last date I went on,” I replied, “and yes, you sound exactly like that.”
“Well, I gave you solid advice,” Angela insisted, “you just didn’t follow it right.”
“Your feminine intuition is a true wonder, Angela,” I said dryly, “clearly, my mind is too weak to comprehend your genius.”
“Clearly.” Angela said, decidedly ignoring my sarcasm and just agreeing with it. I looked over at her and sighed. Angela was beautiful. I could say that objectively, without feeling weird about it. Her face was girlish in features, with big, blue eyes, a pointed nose, flushed cheeks, and a scattering of freckles that accentuate the cuteness of her portrait.
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