Don't Just Stand There, Bust a Move
The year was 2002, I was 22 years-old and had not been single since I was 18. While most guys my age spent their late teen years frolicking around college campuses I was in a committed relationship. I was entirely new to whole dating scene, little did I know I had no idea what I was doing.
Around this time of my life my buddies and I frequently went to Providence, RI at this bar called The Fish Company. It was a typical loud, dark bar with a dance floor and DJ and also a seated area of to the side to just hangout and talk. We had happened to come here a few weeks in a row and there was a particular bartender that could not take my eyes off of. She was about 5’7, tan, had blue eyes, long black hair and body of a swimsuit model. She was walking around the room taking drink orders from people. She came by my group of friends a few times and by the second time she came around I couldn’t take it anymore.
I leaned over to my cousin Joe and I said, “hey, I’m gonna go talk to that bartender.” To which he replied, “yeah dude, no way you do it. You are going to puss out big time!” I told Joey to f*ck off. But, the longer I stood there more I realized he was probably right. There's no way this chick is going to be interested in me anyway. However, Joey called me a pussy every ten minutes that passed that I didn't approach her. So, just before last call I made my move…
I can remember as I approached her my heart was practically beating out of my chest, my hands were clammy as hell and I still had no idea what I was going to say. Every step I took toward her increased the crippling anxiety that I felt. I stopped right next to her just as she was finishing up with a customer. She looks at me and just before I opened my mouth I remembered being so nervous that I could barely get the words out. “Hey, do you want to grab dinner sometime?” (I know, brutal) She looks at me and says. “Um… Sorry… but, I have a boyfriend.” Like a little bitch I stood there and then asked her about her relationship. Not only did I crash and burn, but I made myself look like a complete idiot.
I walked back over to Joey shaking my head. “How did it go?” I paused for a few seconds to find my balls that I had dropped at the scene of the crime and then I said, “dude, I have no friggin clue what the hell I am doing. I’m 22 years-old, I have been single for 5 months and I have no Idea how to talk to a woman that I just met for the first time.” Joe replies, “Well, at least you went over there.” Nice bro, thanks for the support.
As we drove home from the bar was thinking to myself this being single thing is complicated as fuck. I kept asking myself the same question over and over again. Why do guys always have to make the first move? What do I even say to a girl when I first meet her? How do I know when to a girl is interested in me? Do girls even find me attractive?
As you can see my head was spinning. Being a single guy trying to get into the dating game with not a lot of experience can be a scary thing. There was one final question I asked myself. “Is there any way I can practice going on dates to figure out what the hell I am doing?” Sounds like a pretty screwed up proposal I was asking myself. To my surprise the answer to that question was yes.
The next morning I woke up, set up a profile on Match.com and began to search for someone to go on a date with me... 8 years later? Well, I'll just say practice makes perfect.
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