Does the three day rule still exist? If it does, it shouldn't. I'm going to propose an uprising against it and replace it with a new, improved 24-hour rule.If you don't contact me within that time or I don't contact you then you're out of the game. 99% of people have their phone on them at all times. I want someone to be excited about seeing me and I want him to know I'm looking forward to getting to know him too. It's as simple as that.
In reality, no one has time to wait for calls anymore. We as a generation meet people all the time, at work, online, at different bars. I'll presume that if I met you in the street and wanted to date you, other women will too. I'm not going to treat you like I'm your only option. If I saw a bag of cash lying on the ground I wouldn't go back three days later to find out if it's still there. The same definitely applies to me.
On Sunday I gave my phone number out twice. One guy was a confident loud type (we'll call him Man A) and the other was painfully trying to play it cool (Man B). They were equals in terms of looks and intelligence but had different approaches. I wasn't that interested in either of them, to be honest, but I saw this was an opportunity for a bit of an experiment...
I actually got a text from Man A on Sunday night which said "Guy from _____ here. Forgot to ask. Do you eat food?" but I didn't see it until Monday. It made me do that horrible half-laugh-snort thing. No sign of Man B (of course). I replied with my thumb and he phoned me straight back. We live in the same part of town and met while buying cigarettes potpourri. "Come meet me for a drink", he said. Even though it was two minutes away, I had friends over so I declined. He asked about organising something properly which I agreed to. Man B was completely forgotten about.
It wasn't that Man A was chatty, it was just nice that he was forward thinking. I got a couple of messages asking if I would rather go bowling or to Seaworld. I'm now presuming he doesn't eat food. Luckily he had a beard so I didn't need to worry over whether or not he was in fact eight-years-old.
In the morning, I got a call from an unknown number. "Hey..." he said. I replied, "Sorry, who is this?" After a bit of awkward explaining it turned out to be Man B. I was amazed he thought I would know who it was. I nearly made a sarcastic comment about how I'd been waiting for him my whole life but bit my tongue like a pro. "Free tonight?" he asked, not so coolly. Sadly, I was still making plans to go to Seaworld (really) with Man A. "I'll call you," I said, knowing I never will. He should've picked up that bag of cash while he had the chance.
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