MISCHA AND THE IMPOSTOR

What's the dealio, yo? I mean, I'm a good guy, right? Why don't I find that girl? You know, that one. Sometimes is baffling. I see her, maybe. And she's with someone that she shouldn't be with. He's not that funny. Not so charming. Not even good looking.

So you sit across the bar from me. Stealing glances with every chance you get. Yeah, I see you looking, most likely cause you see me looking at you. You look like you belong on my arm. Surely you can see that you are clashing with his. Just be bold baby. Walk right over, whisper something in my ear. Drop me a note. Have the bartender send me a beer. Download the situationist app, and come freaking high five me.

You're killing me.

While I may have enjoyed these cat and mouse games in the past, these days they make me ill. Maybe I am over "the chase." It's never really worked out for me before, so forget it. YOu can chase me. That's why I am not getting up and walking over to you. Even though I can tell this is your first, maybe second date. There's no touching. Barely any eye contact between the two of you.

Maybe you thought this was your best option at the time. But look. I walked in. You caught my eye, and I know that I caught yours. You can do better. All you need to be is bold. I know what you're thinking. "Why is he not chasing me?"

I'm done with that. You make the first move. I guarantee you'll like what you find. I'm so sorry that you had to meet me now. I mean, a few weeks ago I would have walked right up to the both of you, and just introduced myself. However, that wouldn't have gotten me any farther than this, so what's the worth? It's no worth. If you're worth it, it'll happen. Somehow, someway. Right? That's what they say. I guess for now, I'll try and listen…