The Moment

Roger Porter


                I just saw this girl I went to college with yesterday and I swear to god she was looking pretty as hell. But she looked pretty in a professional stylish kind of way, you know with the purple petticoat and the Bluetooth in her ear. I saw her sitting in her parked car on Telegraph and I immediately recognized her—although I hadn’t seen her in like 4 years—and she recognized me as well.

                So I walked around to the driver’s side and she gets out of the car and we’re just standing there talking in the street. I asked her about some of her friends and she asked me about my daughter. I said she looked good and she said I looked good as well. Everything was cool I mean we were vibing and everything but as I looked at her I felt as though I should ask her for her phone number or give her mine. I mean here was this beautiful educated woman preparing to take the MCAT and she was right there smiling in my face. But then as she’s talking to me I’m talking to myself and I’m saying, Damn I really don’t want to cheapen this moment by asking for a punk ass phone number.

I don’t know if that ever happens to you but I just didn’t want her to think that I was only having a conversation with her because I wanted something else; like a phone number, or a date, or sex. I didn’t want to do the typical thing (you know what everybody expects me to do in that situation). So I just told her it’s always a pleasure and left.

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