Act as if you have a choice ...

I walk into the coffee shop, on a mission, quoting a paraphrased Kerouac line in my head I read years ago, hardly remember, haven't lived by, but can't forget: "Do it, man, do it! Aren't you sick of yourself? Do it or you'll die alone forever!" I try to dig deep, knowing girls like confident men, and she looks great, but the best I can muster is a meekly mumbled I enjoy our conversations very much and maybe you'd like to hangout sometime, do something somewhere that's not here. She reluctantly gives me her number, mentioning first that she's pretty much always too busy all the time, so, you know ... Cool, I tell her, cutting her off before she can finish, one foot already out the door, the other on the gas pedal, car aimed home. I better go, I say, my dog's probably lonely. Walking back to the car, I crumple the tiny piece of receipt paper she's written her number on and toss it into the bushes. It's getting late, the sun's setting, it's already cold, I have to get home, the dog is probably hungry.