So, I’m at this local bar-type establishment Saturday night. I notice this very attractive young lady not far from me.
After a while, I mustered up my courage, and …
I WENT AND TALKED TO HER!
A complete stranger!
She was actually very nice. We talked for a good 20 minutes, half-hour. Her friends that she came with then started bugging her to rejoin them, and we said goodbye with a hug.
(Granted, later that evening she kind of ditched me for the attentions of another guy, in an orange shirt no less, but I’m not letting this rain on my parade.)
This might not sound like much to you. But I am so painfully shy in situations like that, and completely clueless about meeting women and expressing my interest in social situations.
bamm bamm bamm ( I tend to pat hard). Hey fellow Michiganian who corrected my Clint Quote (won’t hold it against you). keep the faith -
I have had periods of my life where I was, shall we say, damned near pathologically shy?
we’re talking stand-in-the-corner-so-you-won’t-have-to-talk-to-anyone kind of shy. As a matter of fact, at one point, after college when I was first working - my work hours were afternoons, I didn’t drink, so, hanging out at the bars was out for me, and I literally would go for days without actually saying anything to anyone except at work. My VOICE would even crack from disuse.
I found the courage to start talking to people through a number of methods (groups for one). But, more power to you. People who meet me know cannot believe that I was ever shy and retiring. It can be done. good for you, guy!
Now next time, wear your orange shirt. Oh come on, you live up North. You know you have one. It’s underneath your checkered hunting cap, remember? The shirt that says “NOT A DEER” on it.
You GO, boy! The last time I talked to a stranger-girl at a bar, we started (fast) dancing, and after about 3 seconds, i looked right down at her boobs. Nothing like making yourself look like a letcherous pervert in the first minute when you actually pride yourself on being different. She excused herself to go get a beer, saying she’d be right back. I let her go knowing full well that she would NOT be back.
My point? Don’t look at boobs. Boobs are the root of all evil.
Good for you, Milo. I’m so painfully shy around girls. My female friends introduce me to their female friends, and it goes well, but then someone wants me to dance with them. Boom. It’s over. I can’t dance. I’m too shy to dance, on top of that, I’ve got white-boy rhythm. ::sigh:: If only they’d introduce me to a girl who’d rather go sit and talk and laugh and stuff instead of dancing. A pox on dancing. On top of that, when you turn the dancing down, they think you’re turning them down. ::sigh::
As I read this post and the following threads it reminds me of my life, GO FOR IT MILO!!! It is said that we only go around once in this life so go for all the gusto you can grab, if you get slaped, at least you copped a feel.
Congrats Milo! I envy you now, I am painfully shy and am proud of any 5 minute conversation I have with a guy I don’t know. (Sigh) But hey Homer, I don’t like dancing, I would rather sit and talk and laugh and stuff…
All right, Milo! Way to go! You know, if you’d just pretend you were online, instead of face-to-face, maybe it’d be easier? Of course, watch out for the boobs…
Just kidding. I used to be really shy myself. Then I made an amazing discovery one day. I discovered that a LOT of people were even more shy than I was. I started making an effort to draw THEM out, and make them more comfortable. That took my focus off me, and what they thought of me, and made it all so much better. Now I have no problem at all starting and continuing a conversation with a complete stranger. And you know what? It makes me feel better about myself that I have the ability to talk to strangers, which makes me less shy, which lets me talk to strangers… you get the idea…
Congrats, Milo! You see, liquor is your friend. I have NEVER been able to approach anyone sober (you know, that whole “I don’t want to seem too aggressive, since I’m a GIRL”) thing. Anyway, I have found that when I’m tipsy I’m a little more forward, and it almost ALWAYS has worked in my favor.
When I was 18 or 19, I was out at a bar, and since I was a total lightweight then, I was 3 sheets to the wind after 3 or 4 glasses of wine. At the time, I was DJing at my college radio station, and I had some fliers for my show with me. I saw this cute guy at the bar, and he and I had been exchanging glances all night. But he did NOT come up and talk to me, so after awhile, I grabbed a flier and slapped it on the bar next to him (much to the amusement of my friends) and said, “You need this.” He asked why, and I said, “Because I always give the phone number out on the show, and you can call me and ask me out.” He laughed and asked me for my home phone number instead, and we ended up dating for a little while.
Granted, you might not want to be THAT forward, but once you start up a conversation, you’ve done most of the work. After that all you have to do is NOT make a complete ass of yourself. Hell, most women are pretty forgiving, so if you make a MINOR ass of yourself they might write it off as “cute.” And get the number BEFORE you feel that you’re going to pass out, vomit, or start groping them. That’s ALL you have to do.
Doubt that, Sue. She was in town over the holiday to visit a friend, and lives somewhere downstate. Only got a first name, too.
We went to the same college. She’s an engineer for GM, making about $50 K per year starting out of college. (My four-year degree, on the other hand, is only a step above ‘philosopher’ in pay.) She was gorgeous, very sweet and a football and hockey nut, too. (OK, I’m starting to make myself sad now.)
In hindsight, before we parted ways, I should have gotten her phone number/email. Although she moved on to the dancing orange-shirted guy, I am clearly the better man in the long run, and could have shown that over the course of continued conversation.
But, hey. I’m new at this. I’ll get the hang of it yet.
Milo, if you ever see this woman again, call me. Jeez! I live in (what’s left of) GM’s hometown, which is downstate from you. The odds on her living somewhere in my neck of the woods are, at this writing, looking pretty high. And since I work for the city, if you ever get a last name, I can find her. Trust me.
Maybe we can start a club, Tim. The “Guys who truly can’t stand dancing because it makes them look like the fools they are” club . . . we could wear t-shirts and try to meet women who couldn’t stand dancing or didn’t mind being with guys who can’t dance.
