Take lessons from Chet, my suitor. (Remember him from Addled by a Drug and The Poetry of Seduction?) He’s mastered the art of how not to impress me.
His problem? He allows one false premise guide him during our courtship; that he needs to impress me. Who wants to be impressed? Not me.
Why did he tell me that he got a perfect score on his SATs? At our age, who cares? Who even remembers their score? Maybe if mine had been perfect I’d remember. But still, all these years later that’s hardly something I’d be chatting about.