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says.
    Nice! I think. You got this, Reed!
    â€œSo, any big plans for the weekend?” he asks.
    â€œUh, not really sure. Probably just hanging out.”
    There’s a brief pause where I think Reed has panicked and lost his nerve. Meanwhile, Rebecca is droning on about parking regulations in my other ear and Harrison is glaring at me.
    â€œThere’s that new pizza place on Hickory,” Reed says finally. “You wanna maybe check it out on Friday night?”
    Marisol is caught off guard. She loves pizza. Her Facebook profile is littered with photos and memes about it, including a post about the new joint in town. Reed has been under strict orders not to like or comment on any of them. You must be a ninja and observe silently.
    â€œYou mean . . . like a date?” she asks.
    I tell all my clients: If you are ever in the very enviable position where a girl is asking you to clarify whether it’s a date or not, always say, Yes, it’s a date . Most guys take this opportunity to hedge rejection, to play it cool, to keep things open. Wrong.
    Come on, Reed. Remember your training. Close the deal.
    â€œYeah, like a date,” he says.
    How many times has Marisol ever been asked out so directly? She’s probably flattered.
    â€œSure,” she says. “That’d be fun.”
    I pump my fist. Rebecca looks at me like I have three heads. I do not care. Harrison fumes. Just a few seconds longer . . .
    â€œAwesome,” Reed says. “I’ll message you.”
    Most guys ask for her number here. Nonsense. If you’re already friends on Facebook or some other social media, you can always reach out later to get her digits. Quit while you’re ahead and exit before she changes her mind.
    â€œSounds good,” Marisol says.
    Get out of there, Reed!
    â€œCool. Well I really need to pee. I’ll talk to you later.”
    Okay, so he didn’t quite stick the landing. But I’ll take it.
    â€œOh. All right,” Marisol says.
    I feel Reed breeze past me and out of the conversation.
    We did it.
    He did it.

9
    MY DAD LIKES TO USE the phrase “We all put our pants on one leg at a time.” I’ve begun to dole out this advice to my clients as well, in order to remind them that the seemingly ungettable girl they are pining after is really no different from them. I’m currently trying to take my own advice. I know that Tristen Kellog, the very attractive girl seated across from me, puts her pants on one leg at a time. The only problem is, they are really tight pants, and I’m having trouble paying attention.
    The double date with Anthony, Brooke, and Tristen has been going pretty well so far. We’re at Perkin’s Beanery, a trendy, hipsterish coffee shop with artisanal ice cubes and 20 percent higher prices than Starbucks.
    Tristen’s aforementioned pants are painted on, and she’s wearing a casual gray V-neck that offers the superficial manjust a peek at her incredible cleavage. Her face is perfectly symmetrical save for two little moles on her left check. Her hair is straw-colored and her eyes are cartoonishly blue. I don’t think Anthony has ever been within spitting distance of a girl as gorgeous as Tristen, and despite his unconditional love for Brooke, he has clammed up in the corner of our table.
    â€œHedgehog, are you feeling okay? You’re so quiet,” Brooke asks.
    Anthony glances at Tristen, looks at me knowingly, and then rests his head on Brooke’s shoulder.
    â€œDon’t worry, Balloon will take care of you,” Brooke says, as she strokes his face.
    â€œAren’t they cute?” Tristen asks me.
    â€œI have to admit, they are pretty cute,” I say. “How’s your coffee?”
    â€œPretty good. Thanks again for treating. They didn’t have any almond milk or soy milk, so I just got nonfat.”
    â€œWhat is almond milk anyway?”
    â€œIt’s milk from ground-up almonds. It’s