8th
Here’s my problem.
Well, one of them anyway. I have no game. My freshman year of college I made the unfortunate mistake of thinking that I did. I’ve since wised up and realized that I am an inherenetly awkward individual. My flirting is on par with that second grade bully. The one that threw sand in your eyes and as the tears streamed down your face (in part due to the insult just suffered, in addition to the body’s natural reaction to optical irritants) your mom would assure you that this behavior was indicitive that said boy actually liked you. That’s how I roll.
Being a naturally sarcastic individual anyway, my sarcasm heightens to levels some would consider insulting when faced with a social situation involving a member of the opposite sex. In an attempt to not be a cutesy-eyelash batting-head-nodder I tend to fall too far to the opposite spectrum and become more of a scowling-fist clenching-cynic. I’m told it’s a frightening thing to behold, my flirting.
Also, regardless of the topic, I will always choose the opposite opinion of the person with whom I am conversing. To be fair, this has worked out well in some cases, leading to a lively debate in which the potential future boy toy can note my expansive vocabulary and ever-sharp wit. Typically it does not. Mostly because as I said, the topic is irrelevent. Too often I assume the opposite position without any prior knowledge of the subject. 9 times out of 10 that subject is sports. A rational person would see this behavior in herself and you know…stop. But not I. Upon Cuteboy’s mention that he’s a Red’s fan, the words “The Reds? Really? Well I guess if overpaid, dysfunctional ball clubs are your thing…” fly out of my mouth in less time than it takes to make a mixed drink in a Magic Bullet. The problem of course, being that I’m not even sure what sport the Reds even play, much less am privy to any concept of the behind the scenes business drama. In a perfect world this would in some way lead to a discussion on Chicago pizza joints, or James Lafferty vs. Chad Micheal Murry. Something on which I actually have a fairly expansive knowledge base. This has yet to come to pass, instead I just laugh awkwardly, skull my drink and hit the road.
This of course results in my immediate texting of my “I’m socially inept” support group, and drowing my sorrows in some Qdoba queso while watching Jon & Kate Plus 8. At which point I think, what else does a girl really need in life?
