I have spent the last few days inside 4,150 messages of exclamation marks, cancelled reservations and one man submitting a full corporate proposal to a woman who keeps replying with a smiley and a prayer emoji.
You are not in a talking stage. You are not even in the talking stageβs waiting room. You are a one-man recruitment drive for a job she never advertised, standing outside a laksa shop in Katong at 7.30pm with a table for two, refreshing your phone like it owes you money.
Letβs read your application.
The Applicant and the Template
Ashwin: The No-Pressure Pressure Cooker
You are the only man in history to make the words no pressure sound like a ransom note. Your messages arrive like annual reports, with headings, ranked laksa stalls and a sign-off of no pressure!, a phrase that has never once been typed by a man without any. When she goes quiet you do not wait; you follow up, then follow up on the follow-up, like a debt collector with a lovely personality:


