Ethan had always been the skinny guy. The kind of guy girls saw and thought, “Aw, he’s sweet.” Sweet, of course, being code for “invisible.” He could hold a door open, compliment their shoes, even laugh at their dumb jokes, and still get nothing. Not a number, not a date—nothing. He was like background music in a café: pleasant, but utterly forgettable.
One day, after yet another crushing rejection disguised as a “thanks, but I’m kinda seeing someone,” Ethan had enough. He decided the problem was simple: he wasn’t muscular. That had to be it. Girls liked big, strong guys, right? Not guys who looked like they could be knocked over by a stiff breeze.
So, he made it his life’s mission to transform. He joined the gym, where men with arms bigger than his thighs lifted weights as if they were made of air. Ethan started small—okay, really small—but he was determined. Chicken breasts, protein shakes, and endless sets of curls became his religion.
Months passed, and Ethan started growing. A little bump here, a little bulge there. He flexed in every mirror he walked past. His arms went from pencils to tree trunks, his legs finally filled out his jeans, and his chest could probably bench press a car. He was massive now, a walking monument to human muscle.
Finally, he thought, “Now, the girls will flock.”
Spoiler alert: they didn’t.
He hit up a party, ready to bask in the attention he was sure he’d get. And yeah, people noticed. Girls glanced his way, maybe even threw a “Wow, you’re huge!” in his direction, but after that? Crickets. Ethan tried to talk to them, flexing casually while dropping the number of grams of protein he consumed daily into the conversation. Still, nothing.
By the end of the night, he was fuming. He stormed up to one of the girls he’d known for years—Jessica, always laughing with the tall, dark, and mediocre guys—and asked, “What’s wrong? I worked my ass off to look like this, and I still can’t get a date.”
Jessica, barely holding back a smirk, glanced at his bulging arms and said, “Ethan, you look like you’re auditioning to be the Hulk, but you’ve got all the personality of a dumbbell. Maybe try talking about something other than protein powder and reps?”
And just like that, it hit him: He hadn’t become invisible. He’d just become a very large, very dull statue.
Determined not to let Jessica’s snarky comment be the final word on his love life, Ethan went home that night and made another plan. If his muscles weren’t enough, maybe it was time to flex his brain.
For the next few months, he lived like a monk, devouring books, articles, and podcasts. His routine was brutal. Gym in the morning, then hours spent reading everything from politics to pop culture. He learned the intricacies of foreign policy, the history of the Roman Empire, the latest celebrity gossip, even some random trivia about obscure indie films. He was going to be a walking encyclopedia, a conversational force to be reckoned with.
Finally, armed with more knowledge than any human should reasonably possess, Ethan felt ready. He would show Jessica — and all those other girls — that not only was he built like a Greek god, but he was as sharp as a whip too.
At another party (because apparently, Jessica only existed in these settings), Ethan spotted her. She was chatting with a few friends, laughing at something undoubtedly unfunny. He confidently strode over, chest out, mind fully loaded with facts.
“Hey, Jessica,” he said, casually flexing a bit because, well, old habits die hard. “Got a minute?”
Jessica looked mildly surprised but nodded. “Sure, what’s up?”
And Ethan unleashed. He talked about the political situation in the Middle East, then seamlessly transitioned to climate change and the rise of renewable energy. When she didn’t seem to be swayed yet, he threw in some commentary about last year’s Oscar winners and whether they really deserved it. From there, he shifted into pop psychology, talking about self-care trends and the problematic nature of hustle culture. For good measure, he even dropped a few obscure indie film references, the ones he knew would make him seem edgy and cultured.
Jessica stood there, expressionless.
After a solid hour of talking — no, lecturing — Ethan finally ran out of steam. His brain was exhausted from carrying so much brilliance. He smiled, feeling certain he had blown her mind.
“So?” he asked, flashing what he thought was a winning smile. “What do you think?”
Jessica blinked, her face still neutral, and sighed. “Ethan… you haven’t asked me a single question.”
He stared at her, dumbfounded. “What do you mean? I just spent the last hour telling you about literally everything.”
“Yeah,” she said, shrugging. “At me. You didn’t talk with me. You just dumped all this stuff like I was your audience. Not once did you ask what I thought about anything.”
Ethan’s smile faltered. He realized in that moment that all his newfound knowledge, like his muscles, hadn’t gotten him any closer to the one thing he’d been trying to understand all along: how to actually connect with people.
Jessica patted his arm, her expression a mixture of pity and mild amusement. “Maybe try asking me what my favorite movie is next time. You know, have a conversation instead of a TED Talk.”
And with that, she walked away, leaving Ethan standing there, a head full of knowledge, a body full of muscle, and still absolutely no clue how to get a girlfriend.
Ethan, being Ethan, wasn’t the type to give up after a minor setback. After the party with Jessica, he went home determined to crack the final piece of the puzzle: how to actually connect with women. Clearly, he had the facts and figures down, but that wasn’t enough. So, in his usual over-the-top fashion, he bought a stack of books—How to Talk to Women, The Psychology of Attraction, Questions to Ask on a First Date—and spent the next few weeks studying them as if they held the keys to the universe.
He took notes furiously, filling pages with potential questions: What’s your biggest fear?, Do you believe in soulmates?, How’s your relationship with your family? Each question was more intense than the last, but Ethan figured the deeper, the better. If he could just ask the right questions, surely he’d unlock some hidden connection, right?
Feeling prepared, he decided to call Jessica. He wasn’t going to mess this up again.
The phone rang, and Jessica picked up. “Hey, Ethan,” she said, her voice cheerful. “What’s up?”
Without a shred of small talk, Ethan dove in. “Jessica, what’s your relationship with your father like?”
There was a long pause. “… What?”
“I mean, like, how do you feel about love? Do you believe in unconditional love? And do you think we have soulmates? Oh, also, have you ever been heartbroken before?”
Jessica’s silence was deafening. Ethan, feeling the pressure, kept going. “Do you see yourself getting married? And if so, how many kids do you want? Also, do you ever feel existential dread about the future?”
Finally, she interrupted. “Ethan! Whoa, whoa, slow down. What is happening right now?”
Ethan paused, confused. “I’m… I’m asking questions. You said I should ask questions.”
Jessica sighed on the other end of the line. “Yeah, but these are like… third-date questions, not first-phone-call-after-a-weird-party questions. Do you like me or something?”
Caught completely off guard, Ethan stammered, “Uh… yes?”
Jessica let out a small laugh. “Okay, then here’s a thought: instead of bombarding me with deep, soul-searching questions, why don’t you ask me the most important question?”
Ethan blinked. “What’s that?”
“Ask me out on a date, Ethan.”
The realization hit him like a truck. Oh. “Uh… okay. Jessica, would you like to go out on a date with me?”
There was a beat of silence before she replied, “Sure. As long as you promise to relax and just be yourself. Oh my gosh dude you’re so smart and have such an energy but stop flexing everything so much, just come and be you.”
The date was set. Ethan spent the next few days planning everything down to the last detail, determined to let her steer the conversation this time. When the night finally came, he dressed in something casual, slapped on a smile, and met her at a cozy little café.
The date started off easy enough, but Ethan stuck to his plan: no overthinking, no rambling monologues. After some initial pleasantries, he cleared his throat and asked the one question he thought would let Jessica guide things: “So, what would be something interesting to talk about?”
Jessica grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, I’ve got one. If you could sleep with one celebrity, who would it be?”
Ethan froze. His brain short-circuited. Did she just ask that? His face turned a deep shade of red, and he started mumbling incoherently. “Uh, I—well, uh—I mean, I haven’t really thought about it, I guess, maybe, um… Keira Knight—no, wait, that’s weird, isn’t it? I—”
His breath started coming faster, heart pounding in his chest. Jessica’s eyes widened in concern as she reached out. “Hey, Ethan. Ethan. Breathe, okay? Just breathe.”
He couldn’t. His mind was spiraling, his breath coming in quick gasps. Jessica got up from her chair, gently took his hand, and led him outside into the cool night air. “Come on, deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
Ethan focused on her voice, following her lead, and slowly but surely, his breathing calmed down. The world stopped spinning. He looked at Jessica, who was watching him with a soft, reassuring smile.
“You okay?” she asked.
He nodded, sheepish. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
She chuckled. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay to be nervous, Ethan. But you don’t have to impress me. I like hanging out with you because you’re you.”
Ethan looked at her, finally feeling a little more relaxed. “You… you really like hanging out with me?”
Jessica smiled. “Yeah, I do. And I’d like to know more about you, not just what you’ve read in a book.”
For the first time that night, Ethan really took her in. The way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the way she stood there patiently helping him breathe, the way she was just real. Suddenly, he didn’t care about impressing her with facts or being perfect. He just wanted to know more about her—what made her laugh, what her dreams were, the little things.
As they walked through the dark streets of the city, they talked—not about big, heavy topics, but about life, about music they liked, about stupid things that had happened in their day-to-day lives. The conversation flowed easily, like a quiet river in the night.
By the time they reached her apartment, Ethan felt lighter. Jessica turned to him at the door, smiling softly. “So, when’s our second date?”
Ethan grinned, finally feeling like himself. “How about next Friday?”
“Perfect.” Then, without warning, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, leaving him frozen in place, grinning like a fool as she disappeared inside.
As he walked home, Ethan realized he didn’t need to be the smartest guy in the room or the strongest. He just needed to be present, to actually listen, and to let things happen naturally. And for the first time in a long time, he couldn’t wait for the next conversation.
