Awkward Things I Say To Girls

“Are you single?”

“What? Why?”

He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Dude, are you single or what?”

“Uh, yeah. What’s going on?” I say.

A bunch of us are at a Shockoe club on Saturday night. I have had two, maybe four beers. I know I am over the legal limit at this exact moment, because the legal limit is defined as “the blood alcohol content at which people who can’t dance decide it’s a great idea to dance at a club.” It’s true: I am dancing with a group of my friends. Sometimes I would dance in close proximity to certain ones, who are pretty much girls, but in a friendly sort of way. I wouldn’t call it “a thing.” But, uh, that is definitely happening. But that isn’t the point of the story.

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I’ve been complaining (or maybe bragging) to my friends that I haven’t said anything awkward to any random girls since I started this blog. I even managed to meet one of my sister’s friends from college over the weekend, who was ultra cute, without saying anything markedly awkward. That I recall. Then again, I didn’t try to ask her out.

Anyway, like I say, I generally expect to say one awkward thing per week, but I’ve been un-awkward for going on 12 days now. It’s like a hit streak. Here is how my friends try to console my lack of inspiration:

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A few weeks ago, my friends took me out and tried to convince me to talk to girls at bars, partly for my own good, but partly for their own entertainment. Here’s one of the debacles from that night.

We’re at a bar in the Bottom when I see a tremendously pretty-eyed girl (TPEG) sitting at a booth with like 4 other girls. The girl sitting next to her decides to go to the bathroom, leaving an empty seat next to TPEG. My friends have figured out what I’m so interested in, and they nudge me over in that direction. This only works because I’ve had beer.

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Talking to girls you don’t know is awkward. It doesn’t matter who you are.

Then again, my awkward girl-related stories have a repuation. I recently broke up with a (super awesome and definitely missed but ultimately incompatible-with-me (I learned that “incompatible” doesn’t have to mean “we fight a lot”)) girlfriend I had for about 10 months, and multiple friends expressed their condolences, but said they were kind of excited that they get to hear awkward girl-related stories again.

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Two weeks ago, I’m at a club in the bottom with some friends. One of whom, who is single, and I decide to go talk to two girls who are dancing by themselves.

Now, you’ve got to understand something here. In this blog, when I say things like that we “decide to go talk to two girls who are dancing by themselves,” I feel like the image that is created is one of confident urban professional men self-assuredly deciding that, gee, those girls look like urbane, fasionable, interesting girls who will be receptive to our finely honed pick-up techniques.

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It’s Saturday night. I’m on the patio of a sports bar with lots of people from a sports league I play in, including the devastatingly cute girl on one of the teams we played against that day.

By the point of the evening, I already have her phone number (suspend your disbelief, I guess), but for some reason alarms aren’t going off in my mind to get out, run, you can only make things worse.

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