Horrid and his Girl

Walking back into his room, Horrid was a population of conflicted emotions. It had only been a couple of hours into leaving her home, but he decided to flush the last traces of the rendezvous - so leisurely in their nature - and focus on a subjective view instead that would ultimately lead to opinions. He could not help himself, for opinions were a natural culmination of all his experiences, however inconsequential.

Horrid impulsively knew that she won't be the one, and now came to infer upon it, even though it had been a memorable day for him in a good sense. This top-down approach was suitable for him, for he would always find time at a later day to work on it, and he was now adept to the extent that his inference mechanism could not beguile the original feeling. Today Horrid had to de-construct a favorable situation into the greatest of risks, he knew he would need some work, so he brought in a glass of cold water and set himself to the task. It was hot and musty outside - there had been clouds through the day but it hadn't rained. Horrid also felt uneasy in his shirt, so off it went, bringing to his notice his own ever-expanding potbelly. He knew that he he'd never been that attractive a person, so it was a wonder as to why she'd gone out with him today.

They had been friends for a long time now, stretching into years. They both had been in touch much throughout, and had assumed that they will start liking each other; it had been so, which is why they had been together today. Their families were vaguely acquainted, but more importantly, carried a good impression mutually. Horrid's father was in a position where he could even claim to be superior and hold a greater ego over the other family; and everybody knew how much ego meant to his father. So even the imbalance here served to keep the balance.
Horrid knew that she was a smoker, but that only led him to think erotic thoughts of whether she believed in piercings as well, and had any down there. Moreover, she was more qualified and more capable a person than Horrid was as things stood currently, living an independent life, so Horrid could not complain much.

All that he could complain about was his greater love for his homeland, and her obsession for America. He let this thought suck out all the merit he saw in her earlier. He well knew that it was luck on his side that had brought her closer, for such girls generally get taken by the more aggressive guys and much too fast.

After these minutes of profound pondering, Horrid called up a friend and asked, "I've got this girl, would you like to take her?"

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