Because I Am A Dork

Today on my way home from work I was crossing the street at 40th and 6th. As I neared the other side of the street I was approached by a beautiful woman.

Before I go any further, let me point something out. If you know me then you know that I’ve never been one to ogle girls or whoop and catcall; I like to think I’m a little more respectful than that. So when I say this woman was beautiful, I’m saying she was beautiful.

Across the street in Bryant Park is some kind of fashion show deal and there were a lot of models walking around so I wondered if perhaps she was a model.

So anyhow, this stunning woman approaches me. And when she spoke, she had an accent, Dutch or Swedish, which made her exponentially hotter.And she asked me which way was Broadway.

So I told her I was going that way, I’d show her. She laughed and threw her head back and said “Thanks!” and we ended up stopping for coffee and conversation and it was a wonderful time.

Oh no, wait. That’s what would have happened if this blog was titled “Because I Am A Stud.” And I’m not a stud, I’m a dork, so I must admit that’s not what happened. What really happened, because I am a dork, is this:

I said, “It’s that way” (as I point in the very direction I am walking!) and then keep walking and leave her standing there and the entire rest of the way home my self-hatred abounds.

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