Up until now, all of the stories I’ve told in this blog have been depressing tales of misery and woe, where awkward failure has inevitably brought a quick and hilarious end to any asking- or making-out that I had been trying to accomplish.
Recently, though, a conversation I was having with a girl in a bar rose from the ashes of awkwardness like an adolescent phoenix to end up being kind of cool.
For the first time (that I know of), I’ve decided to write about an awkward thing I said to a girl who reads this blog. I was pretty nervous about how she’d take it, and plus this is probably the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever posted, so I called her to talk to her first.
I bet you’d like to listen in, wouldn’t you? Fine, twist my arm. Here’s what I remember of the interesting part.
“Listen, a few weeks ago when I visited you and stayed at your dorm . . .”
Yesterday I was sitting on my couch with my laptop, trying to type up a blog post. What was I going to write about? I really hadn’t said anything awkward to a girl in a while. Some of my relatives said some awkward things, but that just didn’t feel the same. I had an old thing that I might post on Thursday, but I kind of want Monday blog posts to be new awkward things.
Oh well. It was time to go play football with my friends up on Leigh Street. I closed my laptop, put my shoes on, and headed out to the car.
I’m sitting in my cubicle doing work. All of a sudden, a really cute girl walks into my cubicle.
Here’s the thing. There aren’t very many cute girls who work in my building, mostly due to the fact that my company employs a ridiculous amount of 33-year-old men. And anyway, I know who all the cute ones in my building are. Cute girls that I’ve never seen before walk into my cubicle unannounced about once every never. What does this one want? Does she want to talk to me about a work thing? Will I get to have a conversation with her? Maybe she really likes my analysis and wants to learn what makes me so amazing at my job! I’m instantly excited.
Sometimes I’m wondering to myself as I post these posts - are these really that awkward? I mean, some of the things I’ve posted seem kind of normal to me. I make them worse by emphasizing how awkward I felt while saying them, which pretty much means I just describe the everyday workings of the interior of my mind. But honestly, who hasn’t walked up to a girl and said that it was their job to distract that girl while their friend hit on the girl’s friend? Who indeed.
Then again, maybe I’m still not yet fully aware of the fact that my internal awkward-scale isn’t a highly calibrated precision instrument. I don’t have to be thinking “holy crap, this interaction I’m having with another human being is a disaster” for what I’m saying to be, empirically, absolutely ridiculous.
Last week I went on vacation in Europe with two friends. I viewed this as a good opportunity to say awkward things to international girls. I really didn’t say anything nearly as awkward as what got said to me.
Don’t worry, though, I’m not cured.
An extra-cute girl who looked to be in her early twenties (and who had ribbons in her hair which always just absolutely kill me) sat in the train car with my friends and I on the way to Vienna.
“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.
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:
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.
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.
