Maybe I should rethink this whole “Friends with benefits” thing

Have you ever been faced with a life problem so difficult, it took several days to figure out?Β  There are two sides to the argument and yet you manage to find logical answers for both. In the end, you do nothing. This is what happened to me. Fortunately (or Unfortunately?), I found the answer in a place I hadn’t looked into: my dreams. Or should I say…my nightmares?

You see, there’s this girl: We’re really good friends and she’s a real sweet heart. We can talk about many things and when we hang out, we always manage to summon up interesting conversations out of thin air. Like Magic… But like all magic tricks, there’s a catch – and this one is no different- She likes me.

However, I already established with her that I am not interested in a relationship. I’m a lone-wolf. I work alone, I eat alone, and I walk alone. (Cue Boulevard of Broken Dreams) The point is, I’m not ready. Okay, I lied. It’s not that I’m not ready, I’m just not ready for this relationship. So right now, our friendship is what it is: a friendship…..with benefits.

I don’t remember how the conversation started. First, we’re talking about laptops and technology, and next, we’re talking about how we’re both in support of the friends with benefits idea. And from there, we gave each other virtual winks, and we knew. WE KNEW something was gonna go down the next time we hung out (no pun intended).

The thought of having a friend like that was making me (for lack of a better term) fuckin HORNY! I WAS HORNY SON! GAAH DAAAMNN! My boner was about to rip from my jeans and I was gonna to turn into Wolfman, beating my chest and howling at the moon. But something was wrong. Something was off. Something didn’t click. And I knew what it was: she didn’t just like me, she liked me.

Even after establishing our friendship-only relationship, I still felt like she was trying to get closer and closer. And here lies the main problem: I was worried that if I got physical, she would gain even more feelings for me. Now sonny, I could savor the moment and stir up a wicked make-out session, whilst caressing her body, and spelling out my name on her inner thighs with the tip of my tongue.

NO! Don’t do it! You’re gonna lead her on and break her fuckin heart!” ” NO! Don’t listen to that bastard! GO FOR THE GIRL! Rip off her blouse and have your way with her jujubees! You’re not a lonewolf Ranier, you’re a PIRATE! NOW GO GET YAAR BOOTY! ARRRGGH!”

In order to reconcile with my competing thoughts, I decided to take a nap. I slipped into some sweats, a sweater, socks on my toes, and oh, why not? I’ll try on my brothers sleeping mask. Oooh! The sleeping mask is very snug. Time to go to bed! WOO! *Initiate dream. Cue the “cloudy” corners effect”

In my dream, I was in the school parking lot, waiting for her. I paced around in circles trying to look for her. ” Where is she, where is she, WHERE IS SHE?!” After what seemed like an hour in dream land, I decided to drive off and head home. At home, I cooked a succulent chicken dinner, watched some T.V, and flipped on my Mad Men DVD.

But when I got up to my room, I looked out my window and onto the drive way. My car was there and it was already night time. Darkness was casting it’s cold embrace around my car and the only light came from the silver beacon in the sky. And just as I turned to walk out of my room, I looked again… and I saw a shadowy figure…. in my car.

It was her…

She was in my car. She must have been waiting in the car this whole time. I could only see her silhouette as she wiped away the tears on her face, grabbed her things, and got out of the car. She sat in the middle of my street, arms around her knees, with her back facing me. I felt terrible. I looked out the window and yelled ” DON’T MOVE! I’M COMING!”

I descended the stairs, down the main entrance and towards the front door. The door started to get blurry and broke apart, almost as if my dream wanted to change into another dream. I concentrated hard, trying to make the door reappear. I unlocked the door and flung it open.

And just as I took a step into the cold air,Β  a song began playing: ” Una notte a Napoli! Con la luna ed il mare! Ho incontrato un angelo! Che non poteva piu volar!I tried running but I was going nowhere. It was almost as if my legs were going 50 miles per hour, but I was going nowhere.

Finally, I ran into the street, ran to her, and held her shoulders. Her face was gone. It was empty with nothing but a shadow in the middle. I took her shoulders and shook her, trying to bring life back into her soul. “hey! HEY! IT’S ME! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!!! WAKE. UP!!!”

Her face turned into a lifeless doll. The mouth opened, but a sound wasn’t made. I stood up, terrified. I wanted to wake up. I had to. GET UP! WAKE UP RANIER! WAKE UP! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! I could feel myself trying to wake up, but there was a strain… WHA…WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY WONT MY EYES OPEN?!

It was the sleeping mask…

The sleeping mask had pressed against my eyes and made it hard for me to wake up. Just as my eyelids began opening, her doll face melted…and I woke up.


It’s been about an hour since I had that dream. And since then, I’ve tried to ponder why I had that dream. What did it mean? What did all of it represent? Then it came to me: In the dream, she was left alone in my car. I forgot about her. She was in there… waiting for me. And because I forgot about her, and her feelings,Β  I wound up breaking her heart, beyond repair.

If I continue to get physical, while forgetting about her feelings, I could really break her heart. I need to stop, and evaluate. But you know what’s the creepiest part about that dream? I translated the song. It’s a real song, by Pink Martini. The song is called One Night in Naples. Here’s one of the verses in English:

” But when he broke my heart,
And Abandoned me in the sky,
I fell back to earth,
And swore I’d never love again… “

I‘m calling her right now…


A woman’s emotional needs are more

important that your sexual wants.

Do you like to fuck, or make love?

To be honest, she wasn’t a unique, or special girl. As a matter of fact, she was actually kind of boring. Aside from her C-cup breasts (that I didn’t care for) nothing stood out. Yea, she was sweet girl, but nowadays, who isn’t? But somehow…when she turned to me in the pale moonlight and asked me “Wanna make out?” I still said, “sure.”

After an hour of deep kissing, I laid back in the passenger seat, and looked out the side of the window, towards the sky. She was on top of me, kissing my neck – which was disrupting my state of contemplation. So I pressed the side of her face against my chest, and began stroking her hair. I didn’t kiss her. She didn’t kiss me. I just held onto her. I felt…sorry for her.

She glanced up at me, with glossy eyes, and just stared. I asked her “What’s wrong?” Her head slowly pillowed against my chest as she sighed and said “Nothing..” I knew she was lying – I could feel a sliver of pain underneath a blanket of happiness. “No really, what’s wrong?”

Her: Nothing…It’s just that… no one has ever done that to me.
Me: Done what?
Her: Held me, like that
Me: Well…what do they normally do?
Her: Ranier, I’ve been with a lot of guys before. Usually, we would kiss, make out, and then… fuck.
Me: Did you not want it?
Her: No no, I did. The thing is.. after making out..the guys I went out with just wanted to fuck. They were fucking me.
Me: Hmm…
Her: Ranier?… When you make love to someone… what is it like?


Sometimes it truly upsets me that guys are still like that. When I hear of those stories, I feel like a scientist looking into a glass box filled with wild monkeys. So how can that be? How can some guys be so selfish? Contrary to popular belief, not all girls want to be ravaged and fucked like rag dolls. Real sex isn’t like your standard porno.

When it comes to gossip, I live in my own Oasis, away from all the drama. The “who fucked who” conversation isn’t a topic I engage in quite often. Being that I am so out of the loop, I like to believe that men nowadays are civil, and caring. I mean come on, hit it and quit it?! I thought that shit was like… five years old?! Who does that?!

Today, sex has deviated into something totally different. Nowadays, It’s not about pleasure anymore. It’s not about her pleasure, and it’s not even about his. It’s all about his ego. Guys don’t want big dicks so they can please their lover, they want big dicks so they can feel more powerful. They want to feel like men so they can go back to their friends and brag about how much he made her bleed.

According to my Sociology class, most men and women believe that Sex is finished when the man orgasms. This means one thing: sex is focused around the pleasures of the man - not the woman.

Has it ever occurred to you that while you’re riding your bitch’s back, she could very well be facing the other way, in tears? Guys fuck girls, girls don’t fuck guys. They call it penetration for a reason. But are you penetrating into her emotions? Are you stealing her dignity and self worth? Stripping away that which makes her a Woman?

Yea, I guess this blog sounds a bit silly, maybe even stupid. I’m sure there are some girls out there who are saying in their head “Jesus Christ! This guy’s a PUSSY!” Although, I could care less. But for those of you out there who don’t feel this way, for those of you that have been treated like a rag doll and were not taken care of, this is for you. We aren’t all like that…I hope.


To some women…

Sex is much more than just fucking.

Did my brain just erase you from my memory?

Have ever you forgot the lyrics to a song, then tried to remember it again? But all you knew was the basic melody, or maybe a few lines that you kept repeating over and over again? Most likely you have. But have you ever forgot how someone’s face looked like?

For the past few days I’ve been trying to remember what Haley looked like. I mean, it’s been awhile since I saw her, so everything is a bit fuzzy. I could recollect how tall she was, her voice, and even what she wore. But as far as her face, her eyes, or her smile, all of it was but a gust of wind blowing through my mind.

Trying to remember someone’s face is quite a difficult task. You find yourself flipping through files and folders, trying to find out where you placed that memory. Names I forget, but faces? No way! I’m a visual thinker so I always remember a face! Always! And of all people, why her?!

Unfortunately I couldnt find a a picture of someone screaming WHYY?!

Unfortunately I couldn't find a a picture of someone screaming "WHYY?!"

At first, I tried replaying the day that I met her. But every time I came to that memory, I replaced her face with someone else. After awhile things started to get ridiculous and I started switching her face with stupid shit: my teacher, Pedobear, and on one occasion, Chewbacca.

After hours of grueling concentration I would stumble across a mental gem. I would remember just a little bit more. Her hair. Her skin color. Her freckles. I tried to hold onto that memory and keep it forever, trying to engrave it into my brain. But every time I got closer, trying to remember her face, I would forget everything, and everything would turn into mist…. as if the memory never existed.

But something strange happened to me this morning. I woke up…and the first thing I saw in my head was her. I remembered her smile. I remembered how it made me feel looking at her smile back at me, and from there, I filled in the lines and remembered how she looked like.

Coincidentally, I saw her at school today. She was walking up the sidewalk and I saw her coming towards me. Her head down, my head up. My heart beating, ready to smile. Here she comes. Alright! DO IT! SMILE! THIS IS YOUR MOMENT! SMILE! SMILE MOTHER FUCKER! SMILE!

She smiled back.

But not really. Something was…missing. Almost as if her smile said “Oh. It’s you again.” I turned back right away and stared back at her. She didn’t turn back to wave hello. Or even goodbye. And just like that, another hopeless dream vanished. One minute she consumes my thoughts, the next, she’s the incubus that sucks the life out of my soul.

To me, it didn’t matter that her smile wasn’t sincere. To me, what mattered most was how worked up I got over a smile. Over some girl, I knew nothing about. So once again, I made something out of nothing. I tried to turn air into gold. But ya know what? At least I have her in my memory, and I won’t let it slip away. But for now, I think I’ll put her in a folder called “to be continued”.


Why do we forget?

I feel like a dirty pig… am I a MANWHORE?

I always hear the phrase “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it” – but I never thought it would one day apply to myself. When I said that I wanted to “meet a lot of girls” I didn’t realize it would actually happen. And now… I’m starting to regret the situation…

Okay, it’s not as if I’m hooking up with total strangers, letting the panties drop and then collecting them in my back seat. No, not at all. In all honesty, I just end up meeting them. Whether they’re close by, and I want to introduce myself, or perhaps they’re in my class. The bottom line is, my wish is becoming more true than I expected. Much more.

Currently there are two girls: one of them is a nice sweet girl who’s very soft spoken, and extremely thoughtful. We have similar interests, but different ways of thinking. And on the other hand, there’s this other girl, who has totally different interests, but we think the same way.

My situation is JUST like that! Only less Mexican...

My situation is JUST like that! Only less Mexican...

The first girl seems very attached, while the second one is more independent. The first girl is easy to get along with, while the other is hard to get. Shit, I might be jumping the gun trying to even consider these two women as “potentials” but I don’t know man… I do find myself liking who they are. I don’t necessarily like them, but I like them. Ya know?

But today put things into perspective. It was like an old memory that came back to bitch slap me in the face and say, “AHA MOTHER FUCKER! Your situation just got ten times more complicated! Facts of life, NIGGA!” But in order to understand what the fuck I’m talking about, let me rewind the clock back two weeks. Last I recall, it was a Monday morning, and I was waiting for my Mandarin Class….

I had fifteen minutes to kill and my ballsy ego decided “Hey! 15 minutes? That’s enough time to meet a nice girl!” So I did. And it worked. She was a sweet, tender voiced cutie who had an adorable smile.

Me: Excuse me, do you mind if I borrow your pen?
Her: Oh, sure! *smile*
Me: Thanks
Her: No problem *smile*
Me: What class ya got next?
Her: English. You?
Me: Mandarin

And just like that, I met Haley. After that, I never saw her again. I tried to, though. I came to school early the next day, and the next, and the week after that. But no sign of Haley. She was like this flying saucer that swooped over my head, shook me up, and never returned. I never knew what happened to her…till today, that is.

As I walked to my class, the sun blinked in my face through the pine trees. I tried to keep my head down while still maintaining my sense of direction. But for a split second, I looked up…and I saw her. And within that split second, she too, looked up at me. And within that microscopic, subatomic second, I’m not sure why, or even how, but I managed to squeeze in a very subtle, yet honest smile.

Ill admit: Asian guys are fuckin GOOD LOOKIN! Too classy, yo!

I'll admit: Asian guys are Handsome as FUCK!

I didn’t know if she saw me but I kept walking and I started to count ” One. Two. Three. Turn” And just as I turned around to see her, she turned around. She smiled that beautiful smile, and waved. It wasn’t a goodbye wave, but rather a hello. It was almost as if she was trying to say “There you are…

In a way I feel kinda dirty. I feel dirty for liking these two girls. I feel dirty for being interested in Haley even though I barely know her. I feel bad for constantly meeting more and more women. Is this what dating is about? The constant collecting of potentials, then weeding out the bad ones? Is this the man that I’ve become?

I‘m better than this. But more importantly…they don’t deserve to be items on my wall. I need to think of a game plan. I need to breakdown, and isolate myself. Which means it’s time to go back to the drawing board, aka, I need to go back to my home: San Francisco.

Okay, I know This isnt San Francisco, so fuck off :)

Okay, I know This isn't San Francisco, so fuck off πŸ™‚


Sometimes I just wish I could take all

the girls that I like, and combine them

into one super girlfriend.

“I” know how to cook…the question is, do YOU?

A few months ago, I stopped working at my job. Not because I quit, but because they failed to book me hours. What was their motive? Their reason for stripping away the companies best dressed male employee? Beats me.

This is me on my lunch break

This is me on my lunch break

Last I heard, they hired some white boy/ ex-life-guard who, most likely, won’t give a damn about these middle class fobs, beaners, and niggas, who shop at that mall. He’s probably some prick who’s gonna blow smoke up the asses of these fine citizens, whilst texting “hot babes”. Don’t cha just hate that?

However,Β  something amazing has spawned from this shitty situation: I’ve learned how to cook. No, I’m not some CIA (Culinary Institute of America) graduate, and I won’t be flambeing anything, anytime soon – but I think I got the hang of this cooking thing. Apparently, I’m a fish kinda guy. I love the taste, texture, and the simplistic nature of cooking the fish – and it’s cheaper too (sometimes).

Note: Ladies, I love the smell of fish :D

Note: Ladies, I don't mind the smell of fish πŸ˜€

You see, I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook. Although I’ve attempted to cook many…many times, I would fail miserably. With testosterone driven blood cells coursing through my veins, I would stand against the fires, and whip up something with my honest, rather soft hands. And to my surprise, it would taste like shit. Basically, I just cooked scrambled eggs and I “experimented” with various condiments. Today’s special: Mustard covered eggs with chopped peperoni! YUMMY!….

But now, my culinary boner is …. HUGE! Due to my interest in cooking, our family Dinner night – where we would go to a new restaurant, every Tuesday – transformed into “Ranier cooks something” night. Whether it’s Dover sole with a butter basil caper sauce, or Pasta sauce made from scratch, my confidence was getting up; which is to say, I was swinging thatΒ  boner around the kitchen like it was nobody’s business.

Cocky bastard

Cocky bastard... Too bad his career failed! ROFL!

Although I started cooking because of my lack of money, I also wanted to start for more important reasons: dating. Sure, at this stage in my life, a proficiency in cooking isn’t on the checklist of many girls my age. If anything, girls my age are more concerned with your knowledge of restaurants, and your ability to take them places – which I am already experienced at.

But I mean shit, I’m looming towards my twenties and beyond. By that time, knowing how to cook is mandatory. Not even for money purposes, but for dating. How are you going to win the hearts of beautiful Women, if you’re still taking her place to place? What are you gonna do after? Have sex in the restaurant cellar, on a bag of potatoes? No! You gotta take that shit home,Β  homie!

UGH! I hate it when naked, underage girls are taking a rose baths in my tub!

UGH! I hate it when underage blonde girls bathe in my tub!

Besides, with the increase of Women turning feminist (which I am myself) Women almost refuse to cook. It’s almost as if they’re trying to escape that deadly gender stereotype – and I congratulate them. But that just means us hairy backs need to step it up! Right now, Women put men in two categories: Men vs Boys. But in the future, it will be: Men who can cook vs Men who still buy frozen pizzas.

Okay, I think I’m done ranting. Originally, this blog was supposed to be about me cooking an Italian Quesadilla for my dinner earlier this evening. Instead, it transformed into this weird, constantly off topic, anti-white “BLOGettin” that quite frankly, was very therapeutic to write. But yea, bottom line: Guys, learn how to cook. Why? Simple: You don’t wanna end up in a cellar, having sex on a sack of potatoes.

That would be bad for everyone.

Having sex in a cellar creates angry children 😦


Food is like sex: It’s better when eaten

with Rice….wait, what?

How I got a (Black girl’s) phone number today

Falco, you SLUT! You dirty, filthy, suave, too clever for your own good, SLUT! You should be ashamed! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!

hahaha :)

hahaha, no comment πŸ™‚

In all fairness, I’m not some shlub trying to waltz his way into the panties of respectable women, only to leave immediately after “success”. This is just me, trying to find my way to love – or at least the idea of it. But enough mushy talk, let’s get down to bidness.

Another day, another one hour break. Where would you like to go fishing today, Falco? AHA! Look over there! No, no! On the bench! Oh. My. God. She’s GORGEOUS! Will you look at that honey brown hair that seems to fall effortlessly on her immaculately kept white pea coat?! I MUST go to her! GO FALCO! GO! GO YOU! GO…

Oh no… NO!! WHY?! Chubby little Asian girl, WHY! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SIT NEXT TO HER! AGHH! It would have been perfect! WE COULD HAVE GROWN OLD TOGETHER! After lingering around the vicinity of pea coat lady, I decided to leave. Apparently, Chubby-little-Asian-girl was in a deep trance between herself, and a tuna sandwich. DAMN THOSE THINGS!

In order to kill time and hopefully return to find the bench half empty (or half full?) I decided to go somewhere else. In the distance, there was a girl. Perhaps she was Indian, or maybe African American. I wasn’t sure. But after a quick exchange ofΒ  “Is this seat taken?” I noticed that she was much more. She’s was probably a mixed woman – very beautiful however. However, she was trapped in the abyss of a good book.

At this point, It’s very difficult to decide what to do. Do I make my approach whilst ruining her study session? What if she’s REALLY into that book? What if she’s waiting for a class and she’s doing a little bit of last minute reading? Generally, if the woman fidgets around, and takes visual breaks from reading her book, you can tell that she’s not that concerned with reading it. In that case, I tend to make a move. But i didn’t.

Instead, I kept thinking about the pea coat girl. But who do I talk to?! This girl, or the pea coat girl?! Falco, go for the pea coat girl! DO IT! DO IT! NO! DON’T! YOU SHALLOW BITCH! THIS GIRL OVER HERE IS PERFECT! SHE’S OBVIOUSLY SMART, AND VERY CUTE! And in typical Falco fashion, I decided to leave.

I couldnt find a picture of Craig David in his Im walking away music video.

I couldn't find a picture of Craig David in his "I'm walking away" music video. So here's George Clooney instead.

Me: Excuse me, do you know what time it is?
Her: 12:55
Me: Cool, thanks πŸ™‚

I swooped up my things, got up, and started to walk. And just as I started to walk away I heard her speak:

Her: Bye! πŸ™‚

Aggghhhh SHIT! SHIT! MOTHER FUCKIN SHIT! YOU FUCKED UP FALCO! YOU FUCKED IT UP! SHE WAS A GOOD GIRL! AND YOU WANTED TO LEAVE, JUST SO YOU CAN GO FOR THE OTHER GIRL! Falco….I’m disappointed. You need to go back. GO BACK AND TALK TO THAT WOMAN! DO IT! Luckily, when I checked up on pea coat woman, she was being comforted by Chubby-little-Asian-girl and her tantalizing sandwich. I walked back to the book girl.

Me: Eh, false alarm πŸ™‚Β  << Smooth
Her: πŸ™‚
Me: Are you reading that for a class, or for fun?
Her: Oh, it’s for my English class.
Me: Is…that the class you just had? Or the class that’s coming up next?
Her: I just had it. But the next time I have it is next week
Me: What the heck? Next week?!
Her: haha I know right?!
Me: So are you an English major? Or….
Her: I’m actually doing three things
Me: Oh wow. What are those?
Her: I want to major in Child development, minor in Sociology, and become specialized in massage therapy.
Me: Wow. You’re going for the ultimate package, eh?
Her: Haha, yea kinda.

I 3 Rochelle Aytes

I ❀ Rochelle Aytes

We talked about school, sociology,Β  jambalaya, and the fact that she’s never been to a noodle house. She was a very fun girl to talk to. Sweet voice, gorgeous smile, and the most tender vibe to ever emit from a single body. I was really connecting with her. Despite our differences in interests, we still managed to coexist gracefully. She offered me Pizza flavored Pringles, which I accepted. We even talked about flying.

Me: Okay, serious talk. If you could learn how to fly, but you ran the risk of messing up, thus falling to your death, would you do it?
Her: No way!
Me: WHAT?! Oh come on! It’s FLYING! You can fly ANYWHERE!
Her: Haha! No no, it’s too risky.
Me: Well I for one, would do it. I mean hey! I can just fly to school. I don’t know about you πŸ™‚
Her: Okay, MAYBE! Maybe I would…. haha

After expressing my feelings about the sun beaming on my face, I asked her if she wanted to take our conversation elsewhere, and perhaps go for a walk. For some reason, the conversation flowed so effortlessly. It was as if our personalities were complimenting each other, making for great chemistry.

The girl I just met is a mix of: African, White, Portuguese, Two types of Indian, and a few parts of Asian. *ETHNIC JACKPOT!*

The girl I just met is a mix of: African, White, Portuguese, Two types of Indian, and a few Asian ethnicities. *ETHNIC JACKPOT!*

Me: So what do you have planned for the week? Any plans? Concerts? Big parties to attend to?
Her: Haha no no. Well, I’m going to the school football game this Friday. Other than that, that’s it.
Me: Okay, I have a confession to make: I’ve NEVER been to a school football game before.
Her: What?! Really?! Why not?
Me: Well, when I was in High School, the school was divided between students who had spirit, and those who didn’t. I didn’t.
Her:Well…my friend and I are going this Friday… so if you don’t have any plans…you can come with us if you want.
Me: That….that sounds Great! πŸ˜€
Her: Really?!
Me:Yea! I mean, I’m free that day so that works out perfectly!
Her: Awesome!
Me: Just give me a call sometime this week to confirm where to meet and all that.
Her: Sure, that works!
Me: Do you…. wanna change contact info? πŸ™‚
Her: What’s your number?
Me: 555-5555 . And yours?
Her: 555-5555
Me: Yea, I’m pretty excited to go now πŸ™‚
Her: Me too πŸ™‚
Me: And if you want, we can grab a bite to eat after. I’ll bring you to a good noodle house around here.
Her: How cool! πŸ™‚


It’s really starting to dawn on me: not only do nice girls exist, but sweet, and smart girls exist! You just have to be a nice guy, with good intentions. These kinds of women don’t sway to the winds of lesser men. You can’t “Holler” at them, nor can you “tap that”. They’re too clever for that kind of shit. And although the highly masculine, muscle tee bros are getting laid left right and center, they won’t last. They will dry the earth of all the hot girls, and all that will be left are the real women, who only date real men. And for all you nice guys out there, you’ll get your chance. I promise you.


Tip 1: Don’t be a one trick pony.

The more things you are interested in,

the more interesting you will become.


It’s true: Nice girls do exist.

Yesterday, I had my first “threesome”

When I was in High School, dating was impossible. My offbeat yet mature-for-my-age personality didn’t appeal to the majority of the High School girls – most of which wore Baby Phat sweaters and Juicy Couture bracelets. I fantasized about going to college and wondered if it would be swimming with better, higher quality fish. And you know what? It is.

High School Girls = Rubios

High School Girls = Rubios

College Girls = 3 Michelin Star Seafood restaurant, Le Bernadin

College Girls = 3 Michelin Star Seafood restaurant, Le Bernadin

Yesterday, after ditching one of my classes, I decided “Hey! What better way to spend my free time than to walk around campus and talk to nice girls?!” So I strolled through the campus, trying to give off a nonchalant vibe, whilst looking for half empty benches, with pretty girls sitting down. And just like fishing, it always takes awhile before you get any wiggling action…

I saw her: a cute, humble looking Asian girl, all by herself.

Me: Is anybody sitting here?
Her: Oh no, go ahead!

I sat there, thinking about what to say. Looking at her, observing and studying her body language to find out if there was anything I could comment on. Aha! Inside her hands was a barbie doll, dressed in a gown that she was sewing.

Me: Is that for a class?
Her: Oh! Yes! It’s for my speech class
Me: Oh wow, that’s pretty good!
Her: Thank you! I’m almost finished
Me: Are you trying to become a designer?
Her: Yes actually
Me: What kind of fashion are you interested in?
Her: Well…I want to get into couture
Me: Couture! Very nice! Who’s your favorite designer?
Her: John Galliano
Me: Haha! Me too!
Her: Really?! Oh my…

So we sat there, talking fashion, style, and plans for the future. I want to be an advertiser, and she wants to be a nurse/designer. She was smart, down to earth, and very pretty.

Her: I saw you walking earlier and I thought to myselfΒ  “Wow…he dresses so nice! I wish I could talk to him, but I’m too shy..”
Me: Awwww….. (By then, my heart had already melted, and was dripping out of my ass)
Me: Well I like your style as well. It’s simple and very sweet.
Her: Hmm…before, I used to care so much about what other people thought when it came to my sense of fashion. But now I don’t. I just wear what I want. This is me, and that’s all that matters.

And although her choice of a zebra print sweater, a pink corduroy jacket, and a purple skirt didn’t impress me, her answer did. She had this amazingly sweet vibe. And I could almost feel it. And it was beautiful. I sat there realizing how refreshing it was to meet a girl with such intelligence and grace. She was like a daisy that sprouted from the cracks of the sidewalk, available only to those patient enough to look.

Her: Well I better get going, my class is going to start soon…
Me: Oh yea, of course! It was nice meeting you Anna!
Her: Maybe I can get your contact information?
Me: ..uhh…Yea! Of course! May I see your phone?
Her: Oh sure!

Just as I was typing my number into her phone, a guy, who used to be in my Astronomy class, stood before us.

I think he was gay. But either way, he dressed very well.

I "think" he was gay. But either way, he dressed very well.

Guy: Heyy! Weren’t you in my astronomy class?
Me: Yea
Guy: Okay, don’t take this the wrong way but… You. Have. FLAWLESS style.
Me: Oh jeez, thank you so much!
Guy: (he turned to Anna) Like okay, this guy would always walk into class with the nicest clothes, shoes, and briefcase, and it was always so perfect!
Her: I know right! He dresses so nice!
Me: (oh god….) Pfft! You dress nicely too! I always considered you my stylistic competition. I was very jealous of your shoes!
Guy: Me?! Yea right! I dress okay I guess. But you dress amazing! You have the style, the attitude, and the hair!
Her: And he also has perfect posture!

Okay, at that point, I started to feel very awkward. It was like this massive orgy of compliments, mainly directed towards me! What’s going on! This is unhealthy for my ego! NO MAS! NO MAS! After a few more minutes of playing “make Ranier feel awkward”, he left.

Me: Well it was nice meeting you Anna!
Her: Nice meeting you too Ranier! (we shook hands)

Then she got up, picked up her bag, looked at me, and said the sweetest thing:

” Oh…. I’m sorry if my hands were cold…I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable..”

My god… a girl who is that considerate, and that sweet, might as well be illegal – she was too amazing. She walked away, and for a second, she looked back at me, and smiled. And I smiled back.

I sat on the bench for awhile trying to regroup my thoughts. Then I tilted my head back,Β  looked at the sky, and said…nothing at all..


It’s true: Nice girls do exist.