I'd scripted out exactly what I thought I should say to her, writing and rewriting those two sentences over and over until they were perfect.
Hey, if you don't have a boyfriend, I'd love to get to know you better. Give me a call if you're interested.
Not too long. Easy to understand. Open ended. No pressure. No
reply necessary. I hated asking girls for their phone number. It's always been
difficult for me to strike up conversations with people, let alone ask someone
out on a date. The awkward silence that inevitably followed, as they searched
for an excuse to decline, always crushed my confidence. As such, most of my
past relationships hadn't been initiated by me.
This time would be different.
Or not.
I gave my Chihuahua a pat on the head before leaving.
"Wish me luck Baxter," I said as I pulled the door
shut.
A crisp November breeze struck my face as I descended the porch steps of the small rambler that I was renting with a friend. The night was clear, and the sliver of visible Moon resembled the piece of fingernail I began nervously chewing on. The restaurant was only a few blocks east, just outside of the local Fred Meyer. I climbed into my car and backed out of the driveway. It should only take me a few minutes to get there, but I found myself going well under the speed limit; my subconscious attempt to delay the inevitable.
As I pulled into a parking spot outside the restaurant, I took my phone from my pocket and opened the digital notepad to where I'd written out my lines. I read it again to myself out loud.
Hey, if you don't have a boyfriend, I'd love to get to know you better. Give me a call if you're interested.
Oh no. What is this trash? This sounds so cheesy and insecure! You can't say this!