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Day 11: 6/18/18
11/100 UrsulaDay 11: 6/18/18
I head downtown to stakeout the Haily bench in the slim hope that I can claim My Girl before she leaves town forever.
In my head now I say nothing to her, I just jump up on the railing in front of her and do a vertical pushup like a gymnast. “Betcha can’t do this, Hailey. It’s coz’ of this:” *I imitate her gross smoking habit* “You should really cut that shit out,” I smirk at her as I turn away and go into the library to do my own thing. What a great plan! You got the DHV, the negs, the cocky-funny. Oh, and the push-pull: I’m barely talking to her now; it’s like I don’t even care!
Of course it’s also completely retarded. I can’t do a fucking vertical pushup. I will never be able to do a vertical pushup. Also the library is closed for the day… she has no reason to be there now or ever—Spoiler alert: I will literally never see this bitch again. I also have no reason to be there, and I could not go in after my imaginary smoking snub. BUT even if I could get in, and then exited sometime later, she obviously wouldn’t be there to approach yet again, because she doesn’t fucking live on a bench at the library like a crazy homeless person. I literally saw her sitting there twice in two years. A coincidence.
BUT even if she did literally live on this bench like a deranged wino, and I actually did approach her again, I would stutter and fail. I was able to chat her up so easily the first time, in part, because I had spent the entire day approaching other women, so I was talkative and “in the zone”. But now that Hailey-itis has given me approach block, I will not be similarly prepped. Further she was just another rando girl to me when I approached her last time, and so I was carefree and outcome independent. There was no performance anxiety because the stakes were low. My current emotional investment is this girl would now sabotage my ability to convincingly “push-pull”; not that I have the luxury of playing any sort of long-game with her anyway since she’s leaving in like two days.
*Deep breath in*
“Great rebuttals me!”
Unfortunately, even with these airtight self-rejoinders already logged and noted, I repeat these same fantasies in my head and continue to circle the empty library like a starving vulture.
As the sun begins to set I pace on top of a concrete wall between the sidewalk and the street next to the library, like a bedraggled tomcat, and sing the blues out loud. “The blues” here being the chorus to Funky Town for some reason, belted out slowly, sadly, passionately, repetitively, and of course loudly. Everyone must hear the horrible sound of my broken heart!
Occasionally I stop my song to harass passing women with what might be either some sort of rudimentary daygame or perhaps just bored hostility. A blonde woman on a bicycle rides by: “Where are you going? The sunset is THAT way.” She turns her head back towards me and shouts something with a smile, but I have no idea what.
I repeat the line to another blonde bike lady and she actually stops: “You’re supposed to go towards the sunset—TO ADMIRE IT—you absolute philistine.” There is a big lake a block away, behind the library; it is indeed a great sunset location.
“I stop here take peekshoor” she clarifies to me in a thick foreign accent. A 30-something 6. She sets up a camera at the top of some steps and takes a picture of the state capitol building over on the horizon. I wander away a little and then circle back when she’s done: “What accent is that, btw? German?”
“No. Close. I am from Poland.”
“I am from the United States. Cuspid.” *shakes her hand*
“Ursula.”
*still gripping her hand* “Eastern Europeans have such pretty names.”
(… That’s an ugly name tho!)
“Ursula, this is supposed to be a really pretty sunset. Let’s go back to the lake. We gotta see it!”
“I’m sorry, I have to go.”