get over yourself
Mate, I don’t have the balls either, but I’ve found if I ask then it’s a funny story, if I don’t then I beat myself up for a few days. Go for it, just be subtle.
Good one Walloon .
Mr Sloane thanks you, in absentia. 
I don’t remember when it started–probably early 2004. But I don’t remember ever noticing her for the first time. As far as I can recall, she was always there. She’d take the same bus as me. Whenever she boarded and started looking around for a seat, I’d notice them.
Those eyes.
Words simply cannot describe how incredible her eyes were. I could describe them as ‘deep blue’, but that could be misleading because some of you might read ‘deep’ as ‘dark’. They weren’t dark. They weren’t particularly pale or anything, but my God were they deep! Every time I saw them I’d find myself drawn into them. I’d lose myself in them.
Until she looked in my direction. Then my survival instinct would kick in and I’d look away. I knew that if our glances ever met, she’d suck out my soul. I’d tell myself that I’d broken the gaze to stop her from discovering that some creep on the bus was always staring at her. But deep down I knew that the soul-sucking was the real reason.
To be honest, I can’t really remember many of her other features. I think she was short and slightly built. I do remember that her hair was wavy, incredibly black, and didn’t quite make it to her shoulders. But I only remember her hair because its blackness emphasised her eyes so perfectly. Her eyes didn’t need any emphasis at all. Yet it was there. I hope you can now see the conundrum I was in.
I’d occasionally see her around the campus. I had no idea what she studied. Obviously not computer science, because I’d see her a lot more if that was the case. Besides, beautiful girls don’t take computer science (well, apart from all the female computer scientists on the Dope :)). I’d fantasise that she was a fine arts student. Her amazing eyes taking in the world around her for inspiration. Or maybe a chemist. Every exquisite detail of her eyes magnified by the safety goggles as she held up a beaker, studying the colour of the liquid within. I tried to avoid thinking about her taking accounting. The beauty of her eyes wasted on the numbers on the desk in front of her. But even then, I knew she’d have to look up sometime. And share her eyes with the world.
One day while on campus, our paths happened to cross. She was looking in my direction. Which was a sensible thing to do, since I was right in front of her and she probably wanted to avoid walking into me. I was looking towards my destination, occasionally glancing at her to make sure my peripheral vision wasn’t playing up.
Wait a second. Is that a smile? Is she smiling at me?
She was definitely smiling at something. And I was pretty sure her eyes (which, in case I haven’t mentioned, were gorgeous) were cast in my direction. But I couldn’t be sure. Maybe she was smiling at something funny she saw on TV last night. But I had to do something. Time was running out. In a few seconds, she’d be behind me. My brain kicked into overdrive. In retrospect, I think I must have been pretty switched on that day, because I still can’t think of a better response than the one I gave. I smiled back.
A few months later, while I was still riding on that smile, we came across each other again. This time round I was braver, and I managed to affix my stare to the edge of her iris. Even though she was looking right at me! Of course, I didn’t dare venture near her pupils. I was brave but not an idiot. She smiled again, more broadly than the last time. I have no idea how, but that smile seemed to make her already perfect eyes even more amazing. Remembering the success of last time, I smiled back. Then it happened.
“Hi.”
That soft, sweet, delicate voice eminated from her mouth, quietly but unmistakably. My heart rate tripled.
Did that really happen? I’m pretty sure it did! Her voice is still echoing in my ears! Was it directed at me? There’s nobody else nearby! How should I respond? What did I do last time we interacted? I simply did what she did, and that seemed to work pretty well. Maybe I’ll do that this time.
So like the great big lumbering oaf that I am, I responded with a “Hi” of my own. She continued on her merry way, gracing the path in front of her with her eyes. I had to look for a place to sit down. I wasn’t going to get over this one in a hurry.
Towards the end of the year, we met again. I don’t know how I did it. I’m tempted to say instinct took over, but in this kind of situation my instinct is far more likely to tell me to run. Somehow, I said the first “hi”. She responded in kind (that voice! those eyes!) and we continued on our way.
“One day,” I told myself, “one day, you’re going to summon up the courage to say something more.” But our paths never crossed again. I finished my degree and moved away from Palmerston North shortly after that. 
Down here in Wellington I see plenty of hot girls around. I’ve noticed that a common theme around here is a drop-dead gorgeous girl walking down the street hand-in-hand with some guy, but I do see the occasional looker by herself. I do notice all the usual features on these girls–perfect breasts, nice firm bum, and so forth. But not a single one of them has left an impression on me anywhere near as deeply as the girl with the eyes.
The most beautiful girl I ever met came to my door proselytising. :eek:
What a waste.
The second most stunning was a trainee doctor who assisted at my sigmoidoscopy.
At the end of the procedure, I farted uncontrollably for well over a minute, which destroyed my plans to ask her out. :smack:
Heh. Somewhat long story here.
More than half a lifetime ago, I was a deputy sheriff. My very first traffic stop was a speeding ticket, clocked at 90 in a 55 zone. The driver was one of the most stunningly beautiful women I have ever seen in my life. Take the most beautiful features of…oh, let’s say Keira Knightley, Penélope Cruz, Cameron Diaz and A-Hottie-To-Be-Named-Later, mix them together and you might come close. Absolutely breathtaking.
She tried to run one on me about how she was speeding because her period had just started and she was trying to find a service station to use the ladies room. I didn’t buy it and she got mad and said, “You cold-hearted bastard! The last four cops I told that to, I got away with it!”. My partner and I started laughing, she broke down and laughed as well. I only wrote her for 70 in a 55 because she had brightened up my night.
I still remember her upon occasion. Very fondly.
I worked in a restaurant, many years ago, with a little hottie named Gigi. She was mixed Italian/Irish, with pretty eyes, pouty lips, beautiful dark red hair and an absolutely perfect body. She drove a red Camaro much faster than is legally allowed. One night she came into work crying. She had gotten a speeding ticket. This was in the early 80s and female police officers were not that common, but she finally got one. Her flirting, charms and crying did not work on her. She claimed it was the first ticket she’d ever gotten after being pulled over “hundreds of times”.
I laughed.
As to the OP, I live in Florida. Beautiful strangers are such a common occurence I don’t even bother to keep track of them.
Mbossa, there are some great responses in this thread, but yours takes the cake. An absolutely lovely story.
What a cool thread. Walloon, great post. Those words had been echoing in my head since I read the OP. 
Go for it indeed.
I married the most beautiful stranger I know.
I used to work at an art studio in a mall (it was a satelite program from one of the local museums) across from us was a hair salon. At the hair salon was pretty much the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen. She looked NOTHING like my usual type but I was awed by this girl. She looked Mediterrean or Persian. I was getting lunch one day at the food court and she just appeared next to me and asked me a really simple question- I was pretty much unable to form a coherrent sentence.
At my gym there used to be this beautiful Russian woman who used the pool. She was noteworthy because her swimsuit was basically seethru. I did so enjoy days that she would do laps, go into the steam room, come out to do more laps go back in the steam room, etc etc.
Don’t be so sure. I’ve heard all the smokin’ hawt trainee doctors really go for that.
As for me… a few years ago there was a law clerk here at the courthouse who I saw on the elevator now and then. Slim, brunette, kinda like a younger Sandra Bullock, but even prettier. Took my breath away. Friendly, too, although we never talked about anything more consequential than the weather, or longer than half a minute or so. She eventually went on to another job. But it sure was nice just to occasionally share the elevator with her.
Walloon, I was going to post that. Of course since I don’t have it memorized, I was going to have to look it up.
There was a girl who worked at Amoeba. I know I’m not alone is this, because I mentioned it here years ago and someone challenged me on my claim to her.
Here’s one: seen only once, on a bus
Sailboat
As far as “see on a semi-frequent basis”, it’s the horticulturlist at the country club where I play curling. She has the right combination of accessible cuteness and hotness to trigger thoughts of “don’t stare … don’t make it obvious …”
Lots of Russians on my street, with lots of parties … and lots of Russian women, many of which look like they’re straight from the pages of a mail-order bride site. Yesterday, my neighbor offered to fix me up at his next barbecue … 
Great thread.
This was very nearly 20 years ago, during the summer after I graduated from high school. I was on the campus of the college I was to begin attending in the fall for pre-registration, during which the to-be freshmen were getting registered for classes, maybe getting acquainted with their new roommates if they happened to be there, listening to the college president talk about new beginnings, finding the closest liquor stores to campus, and that sort of thing.
During high school, there was a feeling I’d sometimes get in my chest and throat whenever I was waiting to hear about the results of a non-athletic competition in which I’d been involved, like a speech contest or knowledge bowl. This feeling was something very akin to my heart jumping up with nervousness, but it was tempered with a calm assuredness that I was about to be announced as the winner – I was going to get what I had worked hard to achieve.
The first time I saw this woman on the college campus during that summer session, I had that same feeling. She was absolutely the most beautiful person I’d ever seen: a goddess. Eyes that a person could swim in, a friendly smile that was just a teensy bit off-kilter on the left side … just gorgeous in an honest, natural way.
In four years of seeing her once or twice a week while going to class (and we even had a golfing class together when we were juniors), I rarely said anything more than “hi” to her. That heart-stopping feeling never stopped occurring in the four years that we’d pass each other on the sidewalk, and I always thought the feeling meant that she and I would eventually get to know each other.
'Twasn’t meant to be – I never said more than a few stuttering and nervous sentences to her, and none of them expressed my feelings. Honestly, a lot of that was due to the fact that my heart felt like it was trying to hop out of my chest and I couldn’t really put more than two words together.
I’ve seen plenty of beautiful women in the past two decades, but none stick in my mind anything like she does. Although I’m plenty happy now being married to my wife, I often wonder if and how my life would be any different if I’d said more than “hi.”
Even while typing this, I’m smiling because I’m thinking of how beautiful she was.
I see a lady in the local supermarket on occasion.
She’s about 35 years old and an absolute stunner. She walks with poise, she smiles all the time, she is without a doubt wife to the luckiest guy on this planet.
I’ve never spoken to her, I just gawp
Dangerous, dangerous thread.
The girl at the pharmacy I used to go to before I moved. There was another thread, a year or back where I mentioned her. I went there once a month to pick up two recurring prescriptions, and yet she knew me. She’d see me coming and have my things ready and waiting.
She was about 5’6", had golden blond hair. Straight, willowy, sometimes tied up in one of those loose things that leaves strands of it coming down the side of her head.
The brightest, blue eyes ever. A smile that could melt an iceberg.
A fit, thinnish body, that she knew just how to show off without going slutty.
On the last day I went there (last day - because I was moving), I missed her. I was leaving the store, honestly a little heartbroken, thinking I’d never see her again. Then I ran into her on the way to my car. I stopped, said hi and explained I was leaving.
The look on her face was actually sad. She made her little speech, which to this day buoys me when I need some ego-boosting.
She said she had the biggest crush on me. Thought I was ‘cute’, I was always so nice and friendly and that I always made her laugh or smile. She said she knew I’m married and she never wanted to say or do anything with how she felt because of that “and that it would be so wrong for both of us”, and besides, she didn’t want to think I was the kind of man that would cheat, she liked to think of me as one of the good guys.
Then she gave me the biggest hug, we said good bye and I haven’t seen her since.
I still smell her hair now and then.
I still say you should have gone for it. Speaking as a female, I’d have been mighty impressed with your self-confidence right then. Besides, you’ve got an English accent!