I’m told that the reason that I should be capable of going up and talking to any cute strange girl is that there is actually very little risk in putting myself out there. But there is something subtle that I have never heard anyone say before. I only just realized this because I’ve been brainwashed into thinking that I would be risking little. But the risk COULD be HUGE. Sure, I could be embarrassed. So what? I’ll get over it. Sure, she could slap my face. Would hurt for a mere second. She could belt me in the stomach. I’ve seen that before. Might knock the wind out of me for a moment. It’s happened to me before and I’m still alive so I could probably live if she did it to me. But what I couldn’t live with is the idea that I screwed up my one and only chance of getting to know the woman I was meant to marry because I choked and did something to piss her off. That’s what I’m scared of. If I don’t screw it up tonight, then there is still a chance that I can see her some other time and I might get some great idea before then. I might get some great pickup line. Or I could just chance meet her at the gym. We could end up going to the same French class. She might move in next door. I know it’s not rational. The chances of me even catching a glimpse of her in the same supermarket again are much much worse than the chances of me getting her phone number right then and there. But I think that this is the reason why we shy people have such a hard time doing this impossible task.
Yeah, increasing the number of girls I talk to will increase the chances of me meeting someone who is compatible with me. And I might end up marrying one of them, after I learn to ask one out properly. But is she “the one?” Maybe that first girl I asked out all stupid like was “the one” and she got so turned off by my stammering she brushed me off. Her loss indeed. Well, yeah it’s her loss but it’s also my loss. And shoot, if we were meant to be together then we would probably have kids and, well, now that’s not gonna happen so it’s the kids’ loss too. My kids’ lives are hanging in the balance here so don’t tell me there is little at stake.
Sure you could say that if someone is meant to be with me then it’s going to happen no matter what. But how do you KNOW for sure. You don’t. You have a belief, but you can’t prove it. Anyway you can’t prove that there is only one person for each of us anyway. That’s just a romantic pipe dream really now, isn’t it? But we human beings are romantic dreamers. I can’t help it, and neither can you.
I know I’m wrong about this next statement so don’t take it the… well the right way, especially if you are one of these brave souls. I think the guys that are capable of running up to any girl he finds even remotely attractive because he doesn’t fear embarrasment really don’t believe in true love. He doesn’t believe in fate. He doesn’t believe that there is one person for each of us. He doesn’t feel that the girl he is chatting up is worth the worry of thinking that she could be “the one” because “look there’s another girl over there!” He doesn’t care if he screws up because all he risks in asking her out is his pride. Well when I ask a girl out I am risking a lot more than pride. I am risking my future. And her future. And our kids’ futures. I know I’m being sanctimonious and stupid. But this is how I rationalize not being able to talk to these girls.
Now if I was just looking for someone to screw then I could see the truth of what people say. But I’m not looking for sex. I’m looking for Mrs. Right. It’s not that I am at the age where most are looking to settle down. I’ve always been looking for Her. I was when I was 10. I was when I was 20. And I am now that I’m 30. Am I just wierd that I’m not looking for a bed mate but a life mate? Am I the only person who gets all hung up on the fears that this stranger might not like me? That I actually care about what she thinks of me? That I might be screwing up the one and only chance at happiness? Am I the only guy who doesn’t pay attention to the missed opportunity but the screwed up possibility instead? Please tell me I’m not the only one.
So when I finally get the courage to talk to one of you cute doper chicks please punch me in the stomach. Insult me. Call me ugly. Call me stupid. Do anything but please please PLEASE don’t be the girl I was meant to marry and simply say, “not interested.”