My sister’s advice was great, pilule but it was tough to follow. If you asked a few of my close friends who spoke to me on Sunday or Monday, physician they’d tell you that I wouldn’t shut up about my Saturday night encounter. I wanted to know what it meant, doctor what I should do and why he just didn’t ask for my number. To shut me up, one of my friends invited me watch Superbad.
When I got home, I did what I usually do before going to bed. I turned on my laptop and checked my email. It all looked like spam. I was about to delete a message from a sender with a funny looking name, when I realized that the oddly placed X was really an ñ and the subject line looked familiar.
Subject: [cute subject line, inside joke from Saturday night]
[Short and sweet email in which he explained how he got my email (the mutual contact), that he had a great time on Saturday because I was there, cracked up reading the magazines, and that he'd like to call me sometime.]
I fired off my own email a few minutes later to Chispa. The subject line read, “you don’t know how happy I am right now.”