..."Actually no, you should hang on to it."
(Don't worry Mr., I blurred out a digit)
Yep. That was it. The magical line that was delivered with this little shard of paper. Did I say delivered? I meant sling shotted at my face, actually. I was just sitting there, minding my own beeswax when out of no where comes Mr. 5'6'', this piece of shrapnel, and that magic line. I couldn't help but chuckle a "subtle". He kept walking and put both fists in the air. Then when he was out of range, my friend Priscilla and I laughed hysterically.
I have a few pointers for Dude.
First of all: Even if I liked people throwing paper at me, you didn't write your name, kid. I have no idea who you are. And you didn't even allow me the courtesy of Facebook stalking you.
Secondly: I'm not single. Now you're going to be bummed and sad that I don't call or text you. This could have been avoided altogether if you had stopped and actually tried to have a conversation with me.
Thirdly: Let's just pretend that girls actually like the drive-by approach. You should have been much more smooth. Like compliment me then ask me to take your number down. Instead though, I got dive bombed.
Fourthly: You want me to pick that up and call you? You're already bossing me around and making me clean up after you? No.
I mean I'm flattered and all. But also sort of offended that he thought I would go for having something thrown at me. Might as well have had me check yes, no, or maybe.