So I definitely did. not. do anything.
I sat there and pecked on my iPhone, trying to work, simultaneously trying to figure out how to work on her, yeeeeeee—
Then after nothing happened, we both retreated to the same Starbucks afterward, super by accident... and I looked like a mad creeper so I bought my coffee and I biz-ailled
Emo girls alone in Mexican restaurants are hella hard targets. Most especially considering my weakness; one, for Mexican food, which makes for stink-breath, and stink-else, and then yeah,
yes I DO have one for these types, all wallowing around town with tall socks and skinny black coats and chucks and in their melancholy states and pouty faces and making up adorable songs on their Hello Kitty guitars. That is FOR ME.
Seriously guys, I'm enjineered to sit there on the couch at their mom's place with my arms wrapped around their frail bodies and do semi-spaced-cuddle-therapy
I think I like these girls because they are smart, but not necessarily productive, and... they do not look like me. I definitely like the thought of getting back to being in a suit, arm-in-arm with some little punked-out tattoo'ed girl who's sort of giving the world The Finger without giving it at all (mom is. cringing. sorry mom.)