Personal Narrative: My First Three Stages
“What’s going on Tre,” he sat down beside me and said. ‘Whatcha doing, checking out the new transferred students?” “Nah, nothing like that. Just thinking about something,” I replied.
“Oh that’s too bad. Heard that there are some real hotties attending here now,” he said, grinning like a buffoon. “And you know I can’t turn down the ladies.”
There’s only one phrase of words that could describe Mike; an unsuccessful player. He’s one of those guys that believe every woman should fall in line to have the opportunity to join his imaginary play mansion. Unfortunately, this is reality and such things doesn’t happen to us unfortunate ones. Especially a tall scrawny guy like him who can’t barely even afford to keep his hair cut or put food in his refrigerator. “Too bad they don’t think the same,” I joked.
“Nah, this year gonna be different. I got a secret weapon that will have the ladies falling in line for your boy.”
“Which is?” I asked uninterested, for all of his plans usually ends in failure.
“This,” he said, stupidly wiggling his fingers in my face, which strangely were painted hot …show more content…
What kind of secret weapon is that?”
“See you’re not thinking outside the box Tre. Chicks love when men do this kind of thing. It shows that you’re not afraid to be yourself and don’t care about what others say.”
“What the hell you’re talking about and wipe that shit off before people get the wrong idea,” I said, throwing him a napkin and some hand sanitizer.
“Women goes for the guys who are in touch with their sensitive side and those nothing more sensitive than a man painting his fingernails,” he argued, pushing the napkin and sanitizer back towards