I was at a karaoke bar the other night when I finally mustered up the courage to ask this really cute Chinese girl for her phone number. You know the type—way out of my league, but hey, I had liquid confidence on my side.
She looked at me, tilted her head, and gave me this sweet little smile. My heart was already racing. Then she leans in and says:
“Sex! Sex! Sex! Free sex tonight!”
My jaw nearly hit the sticky karaoke table. The microphone squealed in sympathy. I froze—my brain just completely blue-screened.
I thought, Wait a second… did I just stumble into heaven? Did I break some kind of cosmic slot machine jackpot?
The bartender stopped pouring drinks, the DJ hit pause on Bon Jovi, and I swear even the disco ball slowed down like the universe itself was saying: Bro, you did it. This is your moment.
I looked around nervously, like there had to be some catch. Then I leaned in, whispering like it was a sacred secret:
“Did you just say… free sex tonight?”
She nodded eagerly and repeated, even louder this time:
“Yes! Sex! Sex! Sex! Free sex tonight!”
Now I’m sweating bullets. I was already pulling out my phone to cancel my Uber, my brain going, Forget marriage—skip straight to picking out baby names.
That’s when her friend, who’d been watching this trainwreck unfold, sighs dramatically, rolls her eyes, and says:
“She means 666-3629… it’s her phone number.”
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