Okay, you know what. I like cliche. In fact, I want cliche.

I want my life to be like a bad rom-com, with it's predictable twists and unoriginal plot lines. Sure I could go without the extremely public sweeping declaration of undying devotion because, well, ick, but I would like to live one of those dumb cliches we are always seeing on big screen: mundane activities like painting the garage with your SO which inevitably lead to playfully flicking paint at each other; or an alcohol-induced duet of a tone-deaf rendition of Don't Go Breaking My Heart on karaoke; or even a dash of partial-nudity under the pretext of the act of chivalry in the pouring rain...

You know what, that last one did actually happen. Oh yes, it happened. That story transpires to late July '12. An impromptu heavy shower of rain, followed by a boy taking off his shirt and handing it to me so I wouldn't get cold from the rain. 

To answer your question, no there wasn't any accidental make-out sesh like it was The Notebook or anything; it was purely platonic. A noble gesture indeed, my good sir. But never before had my life felt like such an uninspired and overly-cliche scene from a cheesy chick-flick. 

And the worst part is, I liked it. I like cheesy.

In Defence Of Pick Up Lines

"Kids, have I ever told you the story of how I met your father? Well, I was at this wild nightclub, when he brushed up against me and asked me if my dad happened to own a dairy company. 

'Um, no. Why do you ask?' 

'Because, well, you have, like, a nice set of jugs.' 

'Father my children', I breathed, because kids, in that moment I just knew he was The One."

So, the above can be described as an incredibly unrealistic circumstance for the sole reason that it was, well, EWW SO GROSSSSS. And it clearly establishes that pick-up lines just do not work. Your average rom-com drives this point home pretty hard. The horribly-crafted cringe-worthy pick up line of that guy with that creepy smirk never fails to yield a drink thrown dramatically in his face. So, I understand if the title of this post pretty much justifies that I am the female equivalent of that guy. 

I'm not. I just think, that despite their flaws, pick-up lines do have redeeming qualities. 

Contrary to popular belief, pick-up lines do not exist for the purposes of getting someone to drop their panties displaying romantic interest. Wikipedia defines a pick-up lines as “a conversation opener with the intent of engaging an unfamiliar person”. Because sometimes all a pick-up line intends to do is, well, break the ice. 

You know, how in every colloquy, there comes a point, where all conversation comes to a standstill, and you’re just standing there shuffling your feet, and spouting breathtaking intellect like, “Sooo? The weather, huh? Crazy.” At this point, any rational person would try get out of the awkward, using a range of excuses from a panicked “I gotta pee” to a well thought out “My godmother is in the hospital. She just had a panda shoved up her uterus. I need to see her, bye.” 

In lieu of any of this, I prefer to choose a different route. Yes, Reader, I am, in fact, one of those; the kind who spits out a bad (albeit hilarious) pick up line, turning awkward moments even more awkward.

I am not deranged, I have my reasons okay. See, pick up lines are constructed in such a way that it requires no explanation. You get it, or you don't. That is why more often than not, a pick up line can be used as a subtle method to test if someone is cool or not. If the recipient responds with a stretched out, “Riiiiight. Oh-kaaaay?” it indicates failure. On the contrary, if the line "Hey, were you forged by Sauron? Because you look precious." is met with a favourable response, well then, DING DING DING WE HAVE A WINNER!

Executing pick-up lines are risky, it involves ignoring that tiny voice in your head signalling you to “Abort mission. I repeat, abort." The stakes are high, and the outcome unpredictable. Like I said earlier, pick up lines aren't a marriage proposal or some kind of sex-coupon, sometimes it's just someone acting on a "hey, s/he's cute" impulse, in a witty albeit exaggerated manner. So well hey, props for boldness. Because, reader the way to my heart is not through a giant bouquet of flowers or a double-decker box of chocolates; but through words.

Or maybe someday I'll be a desperate forty-something in a bar shamelessly abusing bad pick up lines, and this is good practice...

So tell me, Reader, did it hurt? You know, when you fell from heaven?

Sidebar: I know, I know, it's been a year since I last posted. I've been treating my poor blog like a neglected middle-child (Yes, potential Psych major here). I have a final tomorrow, and well, my mind is most creative when I have to study. Ugh, finals are the worst beasts in the land, they come from stolen bodies of good elves and are turned into wild beings—

Wow, I need caffeine.