Sunday, March 20, 2005
Of shyness and social retardation
So I'm at a bar right? I'm not the kind of guy that girls normally even glance at let alone smile at. Despite this a cute girl keeps looking over and smiling and doing this kind of roll-her-eyes-back-in-her head thing that has my heart all aflutter. So I'm thinking to myself; nah, she isn't looking at you, she is looking right through you and thinking about some joke her uncle told her when she was three. Self defeating kind of inner dialogue, you know? So here I am having talked myself out of accepting her quite obvious interest. Fuckhead that I am. All of a sudden one of her friends approaches. I kind of realize what is about to go down but instead of excitement I feel a sense of absolute horror. Oh no, she is going to talk to me or ask me to come over and meet her friend. Shit, I'm not going to have anything to say. I'm going to freeze up and be exposed for the fraud that I am. Leave me alone! Let me enjoy the possible fantasy that she is interested and let me dream and delude myself that if I had of spoken to her I would have been charming and witty and dashing and all the other clichés that you are told in trash Hollywood films that you are supposed to be when tackling an interaction with the opposite sex. But her friend doesn't receive your silent telepathic communication, she continues on towards you with a grim resolve. Kind of like the way the terminator pursues his quarry in the film. Closer. One step, two steps, three steps. My life flashes before my eyes. Go away damn it! But she doesn't... She forces her presence into my line of sight and says: "Can I introduce you to my friend?" I jump and act startled to maintain the charade of me not being aware that this was all about to transpire. "Yeah, sure" I say despite the inevitability of my humiliation when I cross the room and make contact with her friend. So she leads me across the room towards her friend and a feeling of calmness comes over me. The calmness of one resigned to their fate. The calmness of one condemned to the gallows. So you reach the group of girls standing on the dance floor, not one girl, not the girl that has been staring at me and her friend - no - a virtual harem all looking at me expectantly. To compound the difficulty of the situation my friends have become aware that something unusual is unfolding and they are all watching as well. I feel their eyes boring into me, discovering all my inadequacies and failings. The music becomes a faint drone at the back of my consciousness. It seems, in the deeps of my narcissistic mind, that the whole room is watching me awaiting my demise. I make eye contact with the green dress girl "Hi" I offer up lamely, "my name is Jason" I give this introduction, in almost robotic fashion to green-dress and the rest of her friends. I receive a similar response. I look round and say "this almost feels like a job interview". Fuckhead. Meathead. Moron. They let out an uneasy laugh. Who have we let in to our circle of trust they must be thinking to themselves. I start to make conversation with green-dress; "where do you live?" "What do you do?" Banalities all of them. I'm starting to sweat, I'm auditioning for some reality TV show called "Socially retarded idol" and I'm crashing and burning. Despite this she makes pleasant conversation back and actually seems mildly interested, in an aloof sort of way. I find out she works casually at the War Memorial, a short 5 minute walk from my work. I also discover that she is studying her masters in Australian history at university. She discovers that I work a shitty job and that I pace from side to side when I'm nervous. In some amazing show of resilience of charity she still appears interested. I however have no such fortitude. This shuttle is going down and I'm looking for the ejector-button. "I'm going to get a drink" I say. "Oh, she says" with what seems to be a disappointed tone. "I might come back over later" I say. "I'm going home soon she says." So, what do you think I did at this point? Asked her for her number? Not me. Tried to make further conversation? No way! Thought up some witty line to make her laugh and relieve our mutual attention? Not a chance. No, I slink away towards the bar muttering to myself "stupid motherfucker..." "Total dipshit..." "Tumbling, tumbling dickweed..." I guess my question is rhetorical when I ask do you think after buying my drink I went back over to talk to her? Upon returning to my group of friends they asked "what happened? What was going on with that girl?" The looks of horror and disgust when I tell the girls how I managed to fuck up yet again are commonplace by now. So, what have I learnt from last night’s experience? Next time a girl looks my way I should go home and call it a night.
Posted by Don Quixote at 11:28 PM