WICKETS AND WIDGETS

National Crush

Springing up from the couch, I hurried to the shower. I mean, who wants to show up on a first date all sweaty, right? After a quick wash, I stepped out in a towel, facing the age-old dilemma of what to wear for the match.

Staring at my wardrobe, confusion set in. "A coat suit is definitely overdressing, and a formal shirt? That's a bit too interview-ish," I mumbled to myself.

Shaking my head with an air of nonchalance, I gave a smug look to my reflection in the full-length mirror attached to the wardrobe. "Forget that, I'll rock a hoodie and toss in a blue jean. Why? Because I slay in anything."

Once I settled on the hoodie and blue jeans combo, I moved on to the next steps in my preparation ritual. With a flourish, I spritzed on my favorite cologne, the aroma lingering in the air as I prepared to make a lasting impression.

I reached for a packet of mints, sliding it into my pocket with a sly smile. A hint of freshness never hurt anyone, right?

As I got ready to leave, I grabbed my wallet and phone, ensuring I had everything I needed for the evening ahead. But before stepping out, I couldn't forget my loyal companions, Sweater and Jumper.

Making my way to the kitchen, I prepared a quick meal for them, their tails wagging in anticipation. After all, even in the rush of a date, you can't neglect the ones who've been there for you through thick and thin.

With a final check to ensure I was date-ready, I locked the door behind me, ready to dive into the exciting unknown of the evening.

Basking in the radiant glow of a streetlight, I summoned a cab like a wizard conjuring an expensive magic carpet. Seriously, these cab prices are on a mission to make my wallet cry – next thing you know, they'll demand my home's property papers too. Talk about high-rolling chauffeurs!

In a matter of minutes, the cab rolled up, and I hopped in, the door closing with a satisfying thud. The car glided away from the alley, and I sank into the seat, shutting my eyes to the rhythmic tunes playing.

"Son, do you remember me?" the driver's voice cut through the music.

I opened my eyes, peering at him, even though I could only see his back from my spot in the back seat. I shook my head in response.

He chuckled softly, "I was your driver on the day you had that office showdown. Ring a bell?"

Recognition dawned on me as I recalled the friendly face that had tried to uplift my spirits on a particularly rough day.

"Ah, right. I remember now," I acknowledged.

He nodded, his gaze friendly. "So, how's life treating you now?"

"It's going well, sir," I replied respectfully.

"Good to know," he responded before casually asking, "Going to watch the IPL today?"

"Yeah," I answered briefly.

"The days of youth," he mused, a hint of nostalgia in his tone.

Once again, a comfortable silence filled the car. I occupied myself with my phone, delving into articles that promised to reveal the secrets of impressing and winning over a woman in just three hours. Sounds intriguing, doesn't it?

The article was nice, but let's be real – it also seemed like a bit of a stretch. I mean, I might be experiencing the thrill of getting asked out for the first time, but even this forever single guy knows you can't pull off a love miracle in just three hours. It's not like you make eye contact, exchange a few words, and suddenly, they're head over heels. Is that even a thing? Sounds more like a rom-com fantasy than real-life magic.