When You Hope Your Akwardness is Charming.

In keeping up with my ‘About’ page, my hunt for the perfect man has been pretty sad. After many a dipshit I finally scored a date with a seemingly non dipshit.

A beautiful man in a huge (I mean massive!) white truck always comes through the farthest lane of the drive through [at the bank]. He looks a bit like 1997 Mark McGrath. Swoon.

We always make googly eyes and wave when I’m not in the one helping him. This has been on going for months. Months. 

The flirtatious tension is palpable yet he hasn’t asked me for my number. 

Until Friday. Sweet Friday. The man has never been inside the bank before. He goes through the drive through and completes his transaction with the girl working it. He sees me and waves, I put on the head set and joke that he should come inside. He says “Ok,”and I about lose my shit. 

He pulls around to the front, walks in straight towards me. Meanwhile, I try to breathe like a normal human. 

He comes straight for me and turns me into a puddle with his smile. 

“We should go out sometime.”

Well I’m dead at this point.

“I agree,” I write down my name and number and he said he’d call me later. He did. 

And that’s how I died. 

And got a date.

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7 thoughts on “When You Hope Your Akwardness is Charming.

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