We all died broke and most of us lived that way. It was a debilitating game. Just to get your shoes on in the morning was a victory.
I’m a little worried that if you asked her out and she said yes and you went on a nice date and had a lot in common and it turned out you both loved some obscure book that was published in the 1930s and then you went home and you walked her to her door and kissed her goodnight and went home and then you wondered if that was okay because she didn’t call you in the morning and she didn’t call you the next evening either and you wanted to respect her boundaries but you also really wanted to call her but you didn’t want to look like a creeper but then she called you and you said “I was just going to call you” and she asked if you wanted to go to a movie or something and you said yeah and went to see a rom-com even though you don’t really like rom-coms but this one was surprisingly good and she laughed and cried a little and you held hands and you walked her to her door again when the date was over and this time she asked if you wanted to come up and she doesn’t drink coffee but she has tea and she made some for you and it tasted alright but you’re not giving up coffee and then you started making-out and she pulled you into the bedroom and undressed slowly and giggled at you as she did and then she stopped in just her bra and panties and she looked at you and she ran a finger over her breasts and said “I know everyone wants to” and you went up there and you motorboated that shit like a motherfucker but then you felt yourself shrinking and becoming intangible and you couldn’t pull away and soon you were just another freckle on Christina Hendricks’ bosom and your soul was serving to power her cruel ginger magicks.
I mean, it’d be worth it, but still, that’s a concern.
Oh dear god, you win. I cracked up towards the end of that.
One of my greatest fears.