So, I FaceBook closed this HB8 counter girl on my way out of the mall.

Here's my interaction with her on FB and txt (I'm not stuck on one-itis here, I just want to know what went wrong.

Begin Facebook interaction: Me: SO! Now we shall begin an awkward internet exchange. How do you want this to go? The "interrogation?" Or the "creeper?" I give you the choice this time. Perhaps I can do the interrogating and you can be the creeper?

her: how about we just smoke tons of meth and get married in vegas and figure out the logistics when we have time?

me: Then, after a five-year binge and the birth of our twacked-out love-child, we can find Jesus together and become televangelists. Eventually, I'll be elected to congress, but will resign in disgrace after the New York Times photographs me doing lines off the penis of a male prostitute.

her:is it possible that you just defined perfection?

me: Perfection you say? I agree; I'm glad I found a woman that will sullenly stand by my side as I apologize for all of my lurid exploits.

Of course, your affection for Jay-Z will be a problem. You're gonna have to do something about that.

her: you are an entire foot taller than me.

my phone number is 8...

text me or whatevaaa.

me: And why did you bring up my being a foot taller than you? I think you're just jealous of my awesome stature.

End facebook interaction.

Begin txt interaction: me:What it do nephew?

her: Who's this?

me: SF_TD_Fan. You're quite the player.

her: Ha. I give my number out a lot for work.

me: I used to work with you (insert Make-Up brand name here) girls. You're trouble. I don't think we can be friends.

her: Oh shut it. I'm so not a "(Make-up brand) girl"

me: Haha. I'll take your word for it. So! You. Me. Billiards. You ready for an asswhoopin?

Her: sure

me: What's you schedule look like?

(end txt interaction)

I haven't heard anything else. Where did I go wrong?