My most favorite thing about Steve is his mean streak. He is so charmingly the opposite of self-aware. It is irresistible.
Steve's ideal date is "Going to her room and getting naked." What a coy little sex pot! I can picture it. He kicks closed her bedroom door and flings off his 50% polyester tartan plaid button-down. Wafting from his slender white chest is so much animal magnetism that a girl could stretch out her two hands, wring it from the air, and mop it back up with a swiffer picker-upper. At least Steve will imagine the scene this way.
Ariana: “We didn’t stop talking until we left. It wasn’t awkward. He was kind of like a male version of me. My chemistry tends to come from personality, so that was definitely there.”
Steve: “She was talking a lot but wasn’t earning the real estate her mouth was snatching. I’d rather find a conversation topic naturally, not just keep the motor spinning so things don’t get silent.”
In the conversation portion of the evening which apparently was quite extensive, Steve had sufficient downtime to craft a terrific metaphor. "She wasn't earning the real estate her mouth was snatching." Snap. Steve's motor was spinning for a different kind of snatch. Steve's ideal date night certainly does not include vapid chatter spewing from a chick so self-absorbed she doesn't realize she's being played by a lusty young natural conversationalist.
Steve: “Girlfriends aren’t like lemons—you can’t just go pick one up.
Ariana: Steve is " Witty, attentive and an instigator."
Steve: Ariana is "Jovial, talky and big.”
I love these two. They should cage fight. Ariana will bosom Steve's face, going for auto non-erotic asphyxiation. And Steve, with narrowed eyes, will calculate, as best a liberal arts major can calculate, how big a waste of time this hand-to-hand combat shit is.