The first time
No matter how confident you are in your abilities, there's always a sense of nervousness when it happens, when you're put on the spot to put out. Your brain loses all of its basic functions. Your insides turn to mush. Yet, no matter how you feel, you have to take it and give it like a man.
All of this over the first time. The first phone call.
It all begins when a certain set of numbers passes your way. Since the the first step is taken by someone else, it's your turn to follow-up. The ball is in your court and you have to know how to play the game. Don't be an ass and wait three days. They gave you their number for a reason. Call.
How do you handle the situation? Should you be funny and crack a couple of jokes? Should you be sexy and drop double-entendres like a 1940's film noir? Should you just be yourself and act like a total loser and trip over your thoughts and words like a prepubescent teenager?
Decisions, decisions.
Now onto your voice. Should you go for Barry White, although your tone resembles that of Fran Drescher? Not knowing what to do, you settle on your version of Kathleen Turner - a touch raspy, and a cigarette away from lung cancer.
Little beads of sweat form near your hairline. Your eyes squint and dry your mouth twitches. What is supposed to be dry is wet and what is supposed to be wet is dry. Gotta love evolution.
Thankfully, no one can see you. God forbid if they knew what you looked like when you were calling. Who would give you a second glance if they saw you wearing a ratty pair of shorts and nothing else?
Your hand reaches for the phone and your fingers tap on the hard plastic. While one hand picks the handset, the other dials the numbers. From a distance, a phone starts to ring. Someone picks up.
"Hi..."
All of this over the first time. The first phone call.
It all begins when a certain set of numbers passes your way. Since the the first step is taken by someone else, it's your turn to follow-up. The ball is in your court and you have to know how to play the game. Don't be an ass and wait three days. They gave you their number for a reason. Call.
How do you handle the situation? Should you be funny and crack a couple of jokes? Should you be sexy and drop double-entendres like a 1940's film noir? Should you just be yourself and act like a total loser and trip over your thoughts and words like a prepubescent teenager?
Decisions, decisions.
Now onto your voice. Should you go for Barry White, although your tone resembles that of Fran Drescher? Not knowing what to do, you settle on your version of Kathleen Turner - a touch raspy, and a cigarette away from lung cancer.
Little beads of sweat form near your hairline. Your eyes squint and dry your mouth twitches. What is supposed to be dry is wet and what is supposed to be wet is dry. Gotta love evolution.
Thankfully, no one can see you. God forbid if they knew what you looked like when you were calling. Who would give you a second glance if they saw you wearing a ratty pair of shorts and nothing else?
Your hand reaches for the phone and your fingers tap on the hard plastic. While one hand picks the handset, the other dials the numbers. From a distance, a phone starts to ring. Someone picks up.
"Hi..."
Authored by S at 12:00 am
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