A hot Valentine's Day date turns bad, real bad.
Hot Valentine's Day date turns bad, real bad. Be careful what you wish for because with this witch's potion, your wish will come true.
"So, what are your plans for Valentine's Day?" Ritchie looked at his tall and handsome roommate Chad wishing he were him or at least looked more like him.
"Oh, I met this cute woman last night at the bar and she invited me to her place for dinner and drinks and more," said Chad with a smile and a wink. "If you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean, you lucky bastard. Gees, how do you do it, Chad? I mean, I know you're good looking, but are all women that shallow?"
"You mean to want someone who looks like me over someone who looks like you," he said looking at his friend with a laugh. Chad furrowed his eyes brows, a clue to whenever he was thinking and about to say something deep, but usually dumb. If Chad was a blonde, he'd be a woman, a dumb blonde woman. "As Paul Newman said when asked why he never cheated on his wife, why have hamburger when I have steak at home. You, my friend, are hamburger and I'm filet mignon."
"You're such an asshole, Chad. You dug deep to pull that one out of your ass," said Ritchie. "C'mon, seriously, what's your secret?"
Ritchie looked at his friend trying not to show his jealousy. Other than his good looks, Chad had nothing over him. It did nothing to soothe his horny soul to know that he was a better person inside than was Chad. More educated, intelligent, sensitive, witty, and caring, yet the women flocked to Chad and not him.
"I give women what they want and I give women what they need," he said puffing out his chest. I give women a chance at someone like me," he said with an obnoxious laugh.
"I get it. It's not the women who are shallow. It's you. You're the one who is shallow," said Ritchie. "I should have known."
"Shallow? So? You say that like there's something wrong with that, with being shallow. There's nothing wrong with liking yourself," said Chad looking at himself in the mirror. "Just as there's nothing wrong in taking pride in your appearance, instead of walking around looking like a absent minded professor," he said looking over his shoulder at his friend.
"There is," said Ritchie. "There's more to life than dating a different women every night to get laid and/or to get a blowjob. Believe it or not Chad, the world doesn't evolve around sex."
"Well, if there is more to life than getting off, then I'm not missing any of that for this," he said grabbing his crotch. "Hang in there, buddy, you'll get lucky one day," said Chad with a laugh. "There's someone for everyone out there, even for you."
"Fuck you, Chad."
"C'mon, Ritchie. I was only joking with you. Don't be so sensitive."
"What's wrong with me? Why don't women like me? I'm not that bad looking. I have a good personality and a good sense of humor. I have a good job, make a good living, and I have a college degree," he said boasting his intellectual superiority over Chad. "I'm a good catch, aren't I?"
"Listen Ritchie, think of a woman you want to take out and go after her. Flirt with her. Say something witty, provocative even, to get her attention. That's the key," he said putting a fatherly hand on Ritchie's shoulder. "You need to show them that you're interested, but not interested, at the same time. You need to make them wonder and then the rest just happens, they want you, I mean, they want me," he said with an annoying little laugh.
"That's easy for you to say. I wouldn't be having this conversation with you, if I were half as good looking as you are. Obviously, looks have a lot to do with it."
"Seriously, it's not just about looks. Some of the greatest lovers weren't the best looking guys. Just look at all those homely rock stars with some of the most beautiful women in the world, supermodel Paulina, Christie Brinkley, Heather Lockleer, Heidi Klum, and Valerie Bertinelli all married beastly looking men, not that you're beastly, but you know what I mean.."
"Yeah, well, it helped that the men they married were all super rich. Then, tell me. What do you say to women to get their attention? C'mon, I want to know. Pretend I'm a hot woman and you're going to get my attention by saying something witty and provocative, even. What would you say?"
"Admittedly, Ritchie, what works for me may not work for you."
"C'mon, seriously, tell me. What do you say to pick up a woman?"
"I say, hi," he said with another laugh that was louder and more annoying than the others.
"Hi? That's it? That's all you say is hi?" Wanting to give him a swift kick in the balls, Ritchie shot his friend a dirty look. "You're such an asshole, Chad."
"You need to get a sense of humor, Ritchie. You're way too serious. You're a bit stressed. You seriously need to get laid, Dude."
"No fucking kidding. Yeah, I do need to get fucking laid, which is why I'm desperate enough to ask for your advice," said Ritchie looking at his handsome friend. "I wouldn't need a sense of humor or anything else for that matter, if I looked like you, a GQ super model." It was then that Ritchie realized who his friend resembled. Afraid to tell him fearing it would just go to his head, he said it anyway. "You look like that guy from that Polo ad, that Brazilin Polo player."
"Yeah, I know, I get that all the time. Women actually, think I'm him, especially when I speak with an accent."
"You speak with an accent? You can barely master the English language," said Ritchie laughing and trying to replicate Chad's annoying laugh.
"Seriously, Ritchie, just be yourself, have confidence, and say something to get the attention of a woman you like and are interested in asking out. That's all it takes. Do you have a woman in mind?"
Ritchie remained silent wondering if he should confide in Chad and tell him who it was he liked for fear that his friend would hit on her before he even had the chance to ask her out on a date.
"Dawn down at Starbucks," said Ritchie suddenly embarrassed by the reason he went to Starbucks three times a day. "Have you seen her?"
"Dawn? The hot blonde behind the counter?" He looked at his friend and bit his lip. "Yeah, I've seen her."
"Isn't she unbelievable? She's so beautiful. She looks Norwegian or Swedish, definitely Scandinavian. She looks like Heidi Klum only better looking and with a better body. I realize she's taller than me, but that doesn't matter with some women. Right? Look at Sonny and Cher, Billy Joel with Christie Brinkley, and Tom Cruise with Nicole Kidman. I realize they were all rich, but height isn't everything," he said looking at his 6'2" tall friend. "Is it?"
"Yeah, she is very beautiful, but she's okay, I guess if you like her type," said Chad suddenly breaking eye contact with his friend. "She's Danish."
"Danish? How do you know her nationality?"
"Actually, we've dated a few times."
"You dated Dawn?" As if he had just taken a punched in the stomach, Ritchie was deflated. He watched Chad shrug his shoulders in indifference. "You're such an asshole, Chad. You really are a piece of work."
Ritchie looked at his friend disbelievingly. How does he have the time to date all these women? Where does he get the money? Where does he get the energy and the ability to lie to so many different women, while keeping their names straight?
"Yeah, so we dated? What's the big deal? It isn't like she was your girlfriend or something. She wasn't even that great in bed. The sex was just okay."
"You had sex with her?" Ritchie looked at his friend, as if he was the devil. "You're such a pig, Chad," said Ritchie jealous of his friend's success with women.
"Pig? You're just jealous that you didn't have sex with her and I did. You're just sexually frustrated from staying holed up in this apartment and playing with yourself over Internet women, while I'm out getting my shaft lubed and shiny with beautiful women."
