You've said it a hundred times. Maybe a thousand. And every time you say it, you train your brain to freeze the next time she walks into the room.
Leagues are a myth invented by guys who are scared of women.
She's a person. She has bad breath in the morning. She picks songs she can't sing in the shower. She overthinks her own texts.
Walk over. Say something. The league dissolves the second you open your mouth.
Your buddy Dave has been single for three years and thinks "hey u up" is a valid strategy. Your other buddy Mike just got dumped and told you to "just be yourself."
You showed them her text. You asked them to decode the emoji. You drafted four responses and sent the screenshot to the group chat for a vote.
She's been waiting forty minutes.
Put the phone down. Stop crowdsourcing your love life. Type something that sounds like you. Hit send. Then go do literally anything else with your evening.
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