When I was a lot younger, 16 and 3/4 to be precise, I was in love with a girl called Marieke. At the time I'm explaining I'd been in love with her for 2 years and my friends were starting to get pissed off with my dreamy: "Ooooooohhhh....Marieke" 's and my "She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me...." 's.
To get the picture straight, let me explain what we both looked like.
Marieke was posh, sexy, beautiful, petite and everything else a woman should be. I looked like a pizza with long and unwashed hair. I literally had more zits than Keith Richards took drugs.
Anyways, the worst advice I got was when my friends said: "You should just go up and ring her doorbell and ask her out."
I'm not a frightened sort of a person. So I did just that.
Her father answered and choking I hoarsly said: "Is Marieke home?"
He bellowed for his daughter and left me standing in the doorway.
Down the stairs came Marieke...with two of her popular friends. I was mortified and the only thing I could manage to say was: "Do you want to come out and play?"
Needless to say I don't listen to my friends' advice anymore.