Why is it that I always, ALWAYS switch into a kind of retarded Hugh Grant mode when trying to ask someone out? It was the same when I was a teenager; except that back then Hugh Grant hadn't met Andie MacDowell and the stammering idiot act was, well, just that.
Me (deep breath): "Hi, do you fancy a spot of lunch with me and some of the guys?"
She: "Excuse me a sec - Hello, (insert company name here) - how can I help you today? Mr Smith? Please hold... sorry Newly, what were you saying?"
Me: "Oh, er, gosh. Um. Can I, er, borrow the key to the stationery cupboard? I need a, er, pen. Yes."
(Damn, Damn, Damn, Damn)
Ok. For the rest of the week I shall adopt Plan B, consisting of some gentle flirting with a build-up to the Asking Out on Monday.
Yeah. Pathetic, isn't it?
On the plus side, Jane Of The Gym called to cancel the Thursday induction. Something about the scheduled torturer/instructor putting his back out while administering punishment/training to other victims/gym members. Oh, the irony.
