Average Guy wakes up to reality

Do I text or do I not? Smiley face or nothing? Or perish the thought, winky face? The dilemma, which I face far too rarely – the day after the night before.

To be honest I had no idea how I had done quite so well for myself.  I was at a subject ball – the sort of event where the veneer of class is easily washed off after a few drinks.  A beautiful female friend of mine had complained to me that evening that guys never approached her.

I suggested that boys were fearful of rejection.  I could empathise with the never getting hit upon bit…just not the small detail of being intimidatingly attractive. That conversation got me thinking – the most likely course of the evening was that I would be rejected. But why not get rejected by the prettiest girl?

I arrived at the ball and started to scout out the pool of girls.  Ruled out those who I had had a dalliance with…it was the same pool.  After the dinner, I set upon the most beautiful girl there (emphasis on beautiful, not ‘fit’ – see how sensitive I am!).

The music drowned out my shit chat and the dim lights hid my angst of trying not to throw up the three course, which had been nicely mixed together with copious amounts of alcohol.  Man’s best friend alcohol had obviously begun to work…or my attritional charm wore her down.

The next day, after several drafts, I text the girl.  I was rejected in the nicest way possible…but rejected nevertheless.  Then from the ashes of despair, my phoenix of hope arrived in the form of a CV sent in after my last piece.

The CV was most certainly detailed (see picture).  I hasten to add that the skill of anal is rather superfluous since I have yet to master the first hole.  A cheerleader was the claim.  See, I know the profiles of the cheerleading squad well and I had never across a Miss Martinez.  Suspicion, as were other things (have you seen the picture?!), were raised.  I then typed in the name to the Warwick email system and no results.

Bullet points helped with clarity – a nice touch.

My hope was dashed, but it was strangely reassuring that there are other sad guys out there with maybe a little too much time on their hands.  I watch an esoteric range of films, this guy obviously writes fake CVs…