Plan B: My Charming Personality
On my way home from the office, I stopped at a liquor store to replenish my supply of exotic six-dollar wines. As I made my way down the aisle of self-loathing (or “French and Italian wines,” as it is known to most of the population), I spotted a cute guy arranging a display. Although he looked up at me for no more than a moment, it was enough for me to feel that rare but wonderful spark of attraction.
Quickly I ran a self-analysis. Hair: disheveled; face: blemishes and fading make-up; outfit: fat pants, one of the few things in my closet that still fit over my growing thighs, flat shoes; skin; minimal exposed.
SHIT. I did not look hot, not by any stretch of an over-active hornball’s imagination. I’d have to seduce with personality alone.
