The age of old dilemma, where to wine, dine, and possibly get finessed with a smile.Now personally, I don’t believe in a one size fits all approach. I tailor the experience based on her intentions because let’s be real, there’s a big difference between “she likes me” and “she likes what’s in my wallet.”
Type 1: The “I think she actually likes me” experience.
For this rare unicorn, I bring out the charm. Romantic walk in the Old Port, sharing sucre de castor like we’re kids again. Maybe we hit a museum so I can pretend I know couple of things about art. When she’s into you, it doesn’t matter where you go, she’d be happy sipping gas station coffee as long as it’s with you.
Type 2: The party girl.
She’s not here for your poetry, all she wants cocktails, chaos, cocaine and a DJ who only plays Bad Bunny remixes. You take her to the trendy spot with overpriced sushi, exotic drinks, and maybe a spontaneous rooftop bar after. There’s no plan just vibes, glitter, and your most clubbing experience in one night minus your dignity.
Type 3: The gold-digger deluxe.
Yes, my personal guilty pleasure. She’s not into you, she's into “investment opportunities.” The date starts with champagne and ends at a boutique where you suddenly become her sugar daddy, temporarily, of course. You’re not dating; you’re sponsoring. And when the receipt hits, so does your wallet. But at least she called me “babe” for three hours and let me hold the shopping bags.
Where would you take her? And more importantly, which version of reality are you buying into tonight? I seen it all, enjoy my sarcasms.
Type 1: The “I think she actually likes me” experience.
For this rare unicorn, I bring out the charm. Romantic walk in the Old Port, sharing sucre de castor like we’re kids again. Maybe we hit a museum so I can pretend I know couple of things about art. When she’s into you, it doesn’t matter where you go, she’d be happy sipping gas station coffee as long as it’s with you.
Type 2: The party girl.
She’s not here for your poetry, all she wants cocktails, chaos, cocaine and a DJ who only plays Bad Bunny remixes. You take her to the trendy spot with overpriced sushi, exotic drinks, and maybe a spontaneous rooftop bar after. There’s no plan just vibes, glitter, and your most clubbing experience in one night minus your dignity.
Type 3: The gold-digger deluxe.
Yes, my personal guilty pleasure. She’s not into you, she's into “investment opportunities.” The date starts with champagne and ends at a boutique where you suddenly become her sugar daddy, temporarily, of course. You’re not dating; you’re sponsoring. And when the receipt hits, so does your wallet. But at least she called me “babe” for three hours and let me hold the shopping bags.
Where would you take her? And more importantly, which version of reality are you buying into tonight? I seen it all, enjoy my sarcasms.
