Imagine that we are in a crappy Hollywood movie. The next morning, you wake up, stand in front of the mirror and … Oops! You see the best tits, the best ass and the cutest face that you have ever seen — like you became a bikini model or something. Put that cucumber down — we’ll have plenty of time to play later … A lifetime actually! You will soon stop thinking like a man and learn to think like a woman.
There are some messages waiting for you on the answering machine, so check them. “Hey, Jude, it’s me, Rob, from Club Maracuya. Remember, we met yesterday. I thought … errrrr … if it wouldn’t really be a problem for you … that we could actually … errrrr … meet? This is my number. Please call me back! Will ya?” How cute. Here comes the next one: “Hi, honey, it’s Jack. What’s up with you, sugar-pants? You were so rude yesterday … I had to get your number from your friend — you don’t mind, do you? Call me back, sweetheart! Bye!” The third message: “Hey, Jude, it’s John speaking. It was nice hanging with you yesterday; too bad you had to leave to feed your dog. Hope we’ll meet again. I’ll call you back later. Ciao!” And this goes on for 10 or even more messages. You get bored pretty quickly. They’re cute guys, but you can’t date all of them, right? Right.