The Pick-Up Follies: Taqueria Hottie

It was 3 a.m. on a random weeknight and I was starving. There is only one solution to cure my appetite, to go to Taqueria Mexico. Taqueria Mexico is an enchanting, ramshackle authentic taco shop that is open 24/7. It specializes in filling the stomachs of stoners, drunks, losers, winners, and community college students at the bleak hours of the night. Because of its utter deliciousness and bang for the buck, it’s not uncommon to see tatted up, freshly released from the state-pen vatos sitting next to preppy, Penn State bound rich kids of the Huntington Harbor and every social demographic in between.

As I stand in line and examine the social zoo that is Taqueria, I see her. From behind I noticed her hot pink dress, with it ending barely low enough to cover up her firm, well shaped ass. Her blond hair is completely wild in the reminiscent manner of 80’s Glam Rock. Her skin is dark, but not darker than mine. She’s wearing high heels that show off her long, muscular legs. “She must have just came back from a club” I think to myself.

My heart starts beating quickly. I have a personal rule of always hitting on a girl I am attracted to, no matter the circumstances or awkwardness of the situation. I wasn’t expecting to see a hottie at this time, so her attractiveness caught me off guard. I start to devise a plan on how I am going to hit on this hottie. I don’t want to lose my place in line and it doesn’t look like she is going to leave anytime soon. But personal history has taught me a valuable lesson about hesitating on hitting on a hot girl; some other guy always hits on her while one is developing the courage to do so. He may succeed or fail; it doesn’t matter because either way, he monopolizes her attention for the time being and it never turns out well being the second guy in a row hitting on her in a casual environment.

Self-doubt started engulfing me. I was in gym shorts, a dirty faded t-shirt, and flip-flops. I hadn’t shaved my spic-stach in a few days, so my face looked like I was a 15 year old boy going through puberty. My hair always looks glorious, so no worries there. I look around and analyze the competition. If I noticed her, I’m sure the other bastards eating noticed her too. I see other men, checking her out, giggling, quite possibly teasing their friends about not having balls to hit on her. “Fuck them. Fuck it.” I say to myself, I leave the line, and confidently approach the pink dress wearing vixen.

She is standing and facing away from me, so I tap her on the shoulder. She turns around and I begin to say, “Excuse me, I just noticed you from across the room and I had to come talk to you.” As I say these words I start to examine her face, which I hadn’t seen before, while it wasn’t ugly, it wasn’t pretty as I thought it would be. It was very heavily covered in make up and there was something off about it I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I do a quick half-second inspection of her cleavage and notice the perky breasts are definitely fake. She then responds “Awww… that is sweet, I’m Monica” in a gay-lisp. Then it clicks. This hottie is a fucking man. She either is a cross dressing dude or a transvestite. I notice other features I didn’t notice before: the strong jaw, the adams apple, and the man smile. While some of the more conservative readers may say they would have just walked out. I’m not a dick like that. I didn’t want to hurt her/his feelings so, I did the socially decent thing and proceeded hitting on her/him. After a couple of internally awkward minutes she had to leave. I took down her number on my cell and went back in line and ordered my food.

When I got home, I got curious if she was truly a he or if my mind was playing tricks on me. So I sent her a text:

Raul: Hey, It’s Raul, I met you at Taqueria about 20 minutes ago.

Monica: Heyyyyy Handsome.

Raul: I have to ask upfront, are you a guy?

Monica: Ohhh baby, don’t you know what I am? I’m a call boy, I charge by the hour. You interested?

Raul: No. I don’t buy hookers.

I didn’t hear a reply for about 30 minutes and then he sent me a text:

Monica: I’m very horny and you’re very cute. How about you come to my hotel and I let you try me out for free.

Raul: I’m sorry, I’m not gay. Thanks though.

Monica: That’s too bad. 😦

~Raul Felix

9 thoughts on “The Pick-Up Follies: Taqueria Hottie

  1. I applaud you for being so gracious as to continue the hitting-on process, and to go as far as getting his/her number? Shit. I don’t think I have that much tact. Then you blew it not trying her out for free. That’s just rude AND financially irresponsible.

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