Preface: what you are about to read is fictional satire. ZWR has never lived any of these experiences in real life whatsoever in any way, shape, or form. Nope. Never.
She just came down the stairs to meet you at the door and—what’s this?!--OMG she's wearing a halter top!! And her parents aren’t home! Yesssssss, tonight is going to RULE. In fact, you're probably gonna freakbone right now on the couch and probably won’t even make it to Applebee's as originally planned!
But then, she insists you see her to the car because she’s starving…and hey what the… she only greets you with just a hug and a peck on the cheek?! Booooooooooooo. That totally seemed like it was going to go way better than it did.
But it’s okay, there’s still time.
Things are going so well--the new Adam Sandler movie was hilarious, you took her out for ice cream, and she let you "show her" how to play mini golf with the whole "standing behind her and practicing the stroke" move. After a hole in one, feeling like you're just about the coolest thing ever in the history of the world, you playfully smack her on the butt. Only her older brother's there, too, and sees it.
The big donkey storms across the FunPlace threatening to beat the crap out of you, his buddies from the Lower Upper St. Prep lacrosse team holding him back. She finally gets him to calm down and leave, but after he goes you're a giant ball of nerves. You didn't really do anything wrong, and he never really "won" the confrontation, but despite it all you know that failing to reclaim the moment immediately killed your mojo. The ride home is terribly awkward, and ends with her saying as she looks out the window to her front door, "I didn't have that bad a time. Maybe we can go out again or something...."
It’s been a crazy Junior Year so far, but you’ve got your license and made varsity so you’re feeling pretty confident about yourself. One Friday night you’re at your buddy’s house, playing poker, drinking some Red Dogs, and random girls show up.
The one who sits next to you isn’t particularly attractive but you turn to her anyway and ask where she’s from. You’re drunk, what do you have to lose? She answers that she’s from Jersey. “You know we have a Jersey shirtless rule in this house, don’t you?” “What’s that mean?” “If you’re from Jersey you have to take your top off!”
You almost did nothing to even deserve even being in this position, Mr. "I don't want to go out this Friday to be totally honest". Your buddy arranged for his girlfriend's friend, who's actually cute, to meet you guys after your game. Then he got the bottle of Goldschlager and the wine coolers for the Jennifers.
You're in the basement making out a little bit, and when you go to whisper into her ear you may or may not puke on her shoulder. Asking "Ohmygod can you see the gold specks?!!?" didn't help matters.
After a long date full of incredible conversation and heavy flirtation, you end up at a house party with her -- the hottest girl of your dreams who you probably normally wouldn't have much of a realistic shot at, but hey, you've been on a hot streak recently--and she has been giving you signs all night. So you think you're golden. But then, someone suggests playing truth or dare, and she's all of a sudden wayyyyy too eager to play. At first you just brush it off as her being silly (remember that one crazy story she told?! OMG, ha! She's so funny and ironic!) But it's still just a tiny bit weird given the circumstances-- a fact that's quickly brought to a cruel head when it's her turn to play and she blurts out "DARE!" without a moment's hesitation.
Then, you immediately want to disappear into the walls. You can only stand and watch as your sense of lingering doom becomes a full force reality...your chances with this girl--your dream girl-- go completely out the window as she starts making out heavily (and open mouth, too-- hey, she had to, it was the rules of the dare!) with that big dumb jock that is a total moron (you know, the one you swore had a full beard in the 7th grade when he beat you out for that position on the basketball team) but still manages to draw a disproportionate amount of attention from all the girls in your school.
You leave the party in separate cars, as she once again all-too-eagerly hops in the passenger seat of said meathead's Camaro (with the No Fear sticker on the windshield and the Megadeth tape blaring) without so much as a goodbye or even a courteous head nod.