You asked her if she wanted to grab coffee. Then you asked if the time worked. Then you asked if the place was okay. Then you asked if she'd prefer tea.
Four questions. Four chances for her to say no. Four signals that you're terrified of making a decision.
Plan it. Pick the place. Pick the time. Tell her where to meet you. She'll either show up or she won't.
Either way, you look like a man instead of a scared little boy.
That sentence contains at least five follow-up questions she WANTS you to ask. Where in Florida? What brought you here? How long have you been in the area? What do you miss? How does it compare to here?
She handed them to you on a silver platter. And you said, "Oh cool. I come here every week. I love this band. Ummm... pretty crowded tonight."
She smiled politely. Nodded. And never texted you back.
I was that guy for years. Talking too much. Listening too little. Panicking about my next sentence while she was literally feeding me the answers.
Then I found 22 rules that fixed the whole thing. Rule number one: shut up and listen. She'll tell you exactly what to say.
Ok. I tell you this. You said the girl is nice, so you like her... Go back there and guard her and watch her, then, ask her out.
I can't go back in time to July 19. She's gone. We are talking about memories now and the integrity and resolution of this memory. The way this is discussed makes it feel like it happened yesterday, but it's really archival status. Like watching an old movie for the first time once all the hype has gone. That's all there is here. She's probably in Newmarket in a city far, far away. End credits roll.
Game over