Kinda like that one. (Image: props flickr)
I just moved to a new apartment. New place, new life… new routine. I woke up early, visited on the new gym and pool — never really feeling the “exercise bug” — headed back to my room.
The elevator door was about to close, when a hot luscious woman came in. She was sweating! She was moist, wet and hot! Complete with earphones, tight outfit — yeah, I can tell she was jogging.
She carrying a peculiar dog. I like dogs, but I’m terrible with women. Getting rejected all my life wasn’t really a confidence boosting thingy. I tried to strike a conversation, but yeah, I froze, as usual.
One thing I am though, I’m great with Photoshop. I noted her routine, it was 8:47am when she went up the elevator and her dog was a Maltese (how the hell can a small Maltese keep up jogging?). I googled the most adorable Maltese I could find, I photoshopped a picture of me with the Maltese, and I put “RIP Abbie.”
(Abbie is the name of my ex, good choice of name.)
8:47am, like clockwork, I got in the elevator with her. I put on the saddest face and said, “I had a Maltese once…”
“I said, I had a Maltese once. She was my savior…”
“I was in a bad state, I was depressed. I was thinking about suicide when my psychiatrist advised me to get a companion. I went to the adoption center and found the cutest Maltese ever. She was my friend, my companion. I forgot about my suicide thoughts, she saved my life.”
“Really? Where is she now?”
“Gasp! (Took the picture from my wallet) Rest in peace, Abbie.”
“Oh! How sad!”
“Gasp! 10 years! 10 loving years! I don’t know what to do now. Your Maltese really reminded me of her…”
Okay, enough. Did I really need to go through all that BS just to talk to her? Yes. It worked. We had dinner that weekend, we had fun.
I thought I was even going to get lucky, but then… her boyfriend came back from a business trip.
But that’s another story.