Okay, i hate the phone. Got that? Hate it. If i ask you for your number, i really don’t want to have an at length phone conversation where i can make a complete ass out of myself for an entire hour without being able to do anything endearingly cute. This is not to say that i don’t want to talk, it’s just to say that it’s hard to have a meaningful silence on the telephone and so i fill them all with a ton of meaningless blather until you contrive a reason to hang up on me.

Not that she contrived a reason to hang up on me; i’m not that inept.

Yes, this means i got up the guts to pick up a phone and call her. No, i do not have an actual time for our lunch date. Yes, i suspect i am absolutely moronic enough on the telephone that any tiny inkling of attraction she might have had has now been flushed down the toilet. Yes, this means i have to call her again some other time if i ever want to see her.


Girls. What was wrong with asexuality, again?