Dear Cute Girl at SMC,

We see each other every Monday and Wednesday. You always got some fly gear on, while I stare wondering just how you do it so well. Sometimes you look my way or more so past me, I'm pretty sure you don't know I exist. I was going to compliment you on your shoes the other day, but I didn't. It's about the eleventh week in the semester and I have spoken to you a total of zero times. That would be an average of zero times a week. It's not that I lack confidence, it's more so that I have nothing to talk to you about. I can't really approach you and say "Hi my names Matan, I'm sexually attracted to you, hopefully you find me remotely attractive as well and we can continue this conversation." Transversely, if you do not find me attractive you will probably give me an awkward hand shake, make an excuse that you have to go to a class that doesn't exist, and my day will thusly be ruined. That would be bad. So the conclusion that I come to is that I must commandeer a pimp ship and spit my proverbial game. Brb.