Background: Terrible with women, even though I have a lot of things going for me (e.g. play clarinet, started an HIV awareness nonprofit, student at top 5 medical school, trilingual). But severe diagnosed depression / suicidal ideation for over half of my life (I'm 23) killed my social development. Also I'm not a very good looking guy (working on that, thanks r/fitness and r/mfa, body language) so I don't get a good response.

Until now.

FR: I was at the supermarket and the bagger (not even the cashier) was an HB8. And that's wearing a supermarket uniform. I'm paying the cashier, an older woman of about 40, and being conversational and very polite.

I am initially nervous. Had an HB8 girlfriend before, but due to coincidentally meeting her while I was practicing clarinet. Never out of the blue. And then I thought -- wait a fucking minute. She's a fucking BAGGER. Her life accomplishments pale in comparison to mine. Fuck that -- fuck everything about being nervous. She would be lucky as fuck to hang out with me.

I look her in the eye just as she's finished bagging, hand over the pen with the receipt and say "Add your phone number to that."

She stares back at me without saying anything or moving, and the cashier is now staring. I say "we'll go to a jazz club--" and smile. Number added to bag. Done and done.