I'm next to a cool dude. A very cool dude. He is wearing all black,and almost all leather. Black leather chaps, black leather, black leather vest. He has a black T-shirt, black jeans and a black bandanna. He is riding a motorcycle, and, predictably, it is black.
Now, this happens all the time, I see people dressing in all this stuff and looking awkward, stiff, out of place in any place. They are wearing costumes. This is the guy they are dressing up as. Comfortable, durable, tough, this is a cool dude, almost fictionally cool.
We are at a gas station, there is a woman next to me at the pump. The cool guy is looking at her. She is pumping her gas and seems mildly uncomfortable under his cool gaze, but not unhappy. She smiles a small smile where he can't see. I bet he knows though. She gets in her car, but before she drives away he causally walks up. Cool footsteps. He waves briefly and leans on her passenger side door. She rolls the window down, no hesitation. He says, "Hey, excuse me." His voice is low, smooth, and you guessed it, cool, " I saw you there, and I just want see if I could have your number so I could holler at you later."
Now keep in mind, he is a stranger, dressed in leather, black leather, at gas station, on a motorcycle, a black motorcycle, leaning in someones car, without so much as a by your leave. This can't work. But it does. She writes down her number, touches his face, and drives away.
He is that cool.
Now, this happens all the time, I see people dressing in all this stuff and looking awkward, stiff, out of place in any place. They are wearing costumes. This is the guy they are dressing up as. Comfortable, durable, tough, this is a cool dude, almost fictionally cool.
We are at a gas station, there is a woman next to me at the pump. The cool guy is looking at her. She is pumping her gas and seems mildly uncomfortable under his cool gaze, but not unhappy. She smiles a small smile where he can't see. I bet he knows though. She gets in her car, but before she drives away he causally walks up. Cool footsteps. He waves briefly and leans on her passenger side door. She rolls the window down, no hesitation. He says, "Hey, excuse me." His voice is low, smooth, and you guessed it, cool, " I saw you there, and I just want see if I could have your number so I could holler at you later."
Now keep in mind, he is a stranger, dressed in leather, black leather, at gas station, on a motorcycle, a black motorcycle, leaning in someones car, without so much as a by your leave. This can't work. But it does. She writes down her number, touches his face, and drives away.
He is that cool.
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