It's been so long you don't even know what to wear.
Two hours later you look like crap and still don't have an outfit to wear.
You do your best to look kinda human (¿he'll like that?) and begrudgingly hop in your Uber.
When you get there, he looks nothing like his picture.
"What do you want to drink?" Time to get whiskey-frisky.
"Are you hungry, too?" Duh... could eat a small village and still be unsatisfied.
30 minutes in and you're ready to pass out.
All this small talk... are we back in High School?
Suddenly college comes up and you have to justify your freshman year.
The drinks keep flowing. You channel the dark depths of your mind and question life, itself.
With hours of liquid courage in your system, you say "f*ck it!" and invite him back.
You text him -- discreetly -- to seal a deal.
He comes back home with you. ¡SHIZ IS REAL! All is well until he tries for second base.
Can't blame him.
Still, ya kick him to the curb. You're looking for love... not a good fondle (well, sometimes).
He'll call. It'll go to voicemail. You're not one to be trifled with.
Friends will be skeptical. They'll say you went all the way. You'll insist that you are very, VERY single.
When the words leave your mouth, you realize you're back to square one. Oh dear.
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