They say I have to find out if she’s in a relationship.
They say I can ask her this question.
It’s a normal question.
In fact, I can ask anybody this question, they say.
Life is too short not to take action.
In fact, I should ask her this question this week.
The sooner you know, the better.
You have to know if you’re not wasting time, they say.
Even then, you could win her over.
Besides, you can kiss somebody.
Just having a good time surely doesn’t have to mean moving in together, they say.
What can be wrong with the fact that you ask her this question?
That she KNOWS you’ve asked her this question?
They say you’re over an ex if you don’t know why you’re sad: because of her or because of something you cannot define.
They are not convinced by anything I say.
I could fall in love with anybody, I say, I don’t trust any of my feelings.
I point to all three of them to illustrate some somewhere-existing, somewhere-floating point.
They do not buy this.
They say, you KNOW.
You know if you want to kiss her, touch her, or, for god sake, want to be in the same room with her, spend some time with her, even if it means in different corners of that room.
At least talk with her, they say.
The one who seems to be the most opinionated sighs. Why can’t women be like men, and just shag.
We talk Bad English while we ride a boat in the canals trying to attach a flag of Amsterdam to the boat, pretending we’re tourists who are lost. Of course, everybody is lost. A guy tells us we can buy a bigger, better flag at the Kalverstraat, near Munt tower.