I’m a 27-year-old guy, and I want to tell my neighbor that I’m in love with her, and I don’t know how. We’ve spent the last three years always together, walking dogs, and hanging out. She’s helped me through some tough times.
We have tons in common, and she likes my foot massages—that has to be a good sign, right?
Now she’s started seeing this new guy and I’m afraid it’s too late to tell her how I feel. He’s better-looking than me, and more successful... I’m 70 percent deaf, with health issues, including one run in with cancer, but now I’m in remission, I know I’m no prize catch.
I get that you’re busy, but I’d really like some advice,
I’m inside the DMV right now, writing you on my phone. I’ve been here one hour. I’ve taken a number and I’m standing in line. My number is 68. They are now serving Number 07.
Anyway, you did the right thing coming to me. I have extensive experience in the field
of being a big, fat, frightened chicken. Which is exactly what you are. Welcome to the club, Colonel Sanders.
I once spent four weeks building up courage to ask Anna Moody to the movies.
“You wanna go to the movies?” I asked.
She said, “Hey, that sounds fun!”
I almost passed out.
Then she added, “Oh, you mean with YOU? I thought you meant as a group. Sorry, I gotta… Um… Clean the… Um… Freezer...”
Ever since then, I’ve been famously opposed to freezer cleaning.
But enough about me.
You like her, and it’s keeping you up at night. You lie in bed, replaying memories of massaging her sweaty, clammy feet.
It’s time to be courageous.
Now look, I’m no expert, but if you ask me, you are pretty…