Probably a swift kick to the genitals. But a close second has got to be that moment of absolute terror when you walk up to a girl that you really can’t even pretend to know and say to her something — anything — to make her accept the date that you are offering.
So dinner to tonight at a place called BaK’D (where the “a” has the little line over it meaning a long a. So Baked. Yeah, I thought I was in for some good refer too . . . though the fact that my Gran picked the place probably should have been a sign). It’s new and very small so there wasn’t much staff. We were there pretty early and the moment I walked in I couldn’t help but notice that our waitress, L_____, was incredibly beautiful in a vaguely Mesa kind of way (blond hair, blue eyes, Aryan type of thing. Alright, I’ll say it. She looked kinda Mormon). So the point is she was hot. All through dinner I couldn’t help but smile every time I looked at her. She was probably a bit weirded out by this, but she always smiled back and laughed at my stupid little quips when she came by and the part of my self esteem which wasn’t kicked to death by Glaswegian women perked up and said “Hey, she digs you.” I still wasn’t about to anything about it, of course. This is me we’re talking about.
Dinner wrapped up (it was fantastic, by the way) and we were all slowly getting ready to leave. Nate leans over and says “You are gonna get her digits, right?” Apparently I wasn’t being too subtle in my admiration for this girl. I know. Shock. But, believe it or not folks, Nate actually has an ability that few others have. He is somehow able to MAKE me hit on women. He did it in Glasgow two years ago when he came to visit, and he did it again tonight. I desperately searched for a scrap of paper to write on and not finding one I did something horrifying . . . I used the back of my mother’s business card! I wrote out “Ash” and my number (scribbling out my Mom’s contact info) and went to talk to her. This story is already too long so suffice to say I don’t think I stumbled over myself too badly and she didn’t flat out refuse to accept the card, so I’m counting this one as a qualified win. Dad, having noticed what I was doing, waiting at the door and in full view insisting on giving me “five” did not help, however! 😉
The moral of the story is that those instants where I was trying so desperately not to spontaneously combust with embarrassment nor have a cardiac arrest because of pure unadulterated fear are ones that I will be reliving for years to come when I’m feeling the need to torture myself with the memories of bad moments. Of course, should L____ actually, you know, CALL . . . well then the story will change, now won’t it? I’m just sayin’ that people like my sister who say how hard it is for a girl to call a guy should really try having to actually hit on said guy some time to know true petrification.
And on that note, I’m outta here. Happiest of late Solstice wishes to everyone and I’ll see ya soon!
P.S. Addendum. It’s already been pointed out to me that I’ve hit on women before (and indeed have done many things more scary) and so why should this matter. Well, in my defense, she was really hot. Plus, she was hot. Also, imagine hitting on a girl in front of BOTH your grandmothers. Oh yeah, didn’t I mention that? They were there. Right. Then. Without being too arrogant, I’m the man.