If you've been reading for a while, or have even skimmed over older posts, you know that things have changed a lot. At this point, it's just one milestone after another.
A couple weeks ago, I wrote about my first pickup. Actually, "pickup" was an intentional misnomer. I was at my friend's birthday party in a small nightclub, and had loosened up so much that I decided to find someone random to talk to. I acted on my impulse to speak to a young lady who was sitting by the bar alone, and ten minutes later, I found myself asking for her phone number. It turned out she had a boyfriend, but was interested in being friends with me.
It was the first time I'd ever done anything like that. I could have easily been content dancing and meeting friends of my friend that night, not seeking out anyone else. I could have walked away when there was a lull in the conversation. I could have yielded to inhibition instead of asking for her phone number, or done any number of other such things that would have set my life on a different course - one that wouldn't have involved writing a blog entry called "From Impulse to Friend."
But instead, I followed my impulse, and here we are.
I sent her a text, asking if she wanted to play some pool on Sunday. She agreed, and I called her a few hours before to verify. It was actually the first phone call I'd made to a person that I hadn't met online. The problems from the past were gone: I felt relaxed and confident.
As I waited for her to arrive, I noticed that something was different. Even on my best days before, I had always felt anxiety before meeting someone for the first time. I had only spoken to her for 10 minutes in a loud nightclub beforehand, so I really knew much less about her than anyone I'd met online. And still, I was completely relaxed. There wasn't even a hint of anxiety.
Finally, Neola arrived. For the first time, I hadn't come with any conversation topics in mind at all. Instead, I just started out with something very general, like asking what she'd been up to. It took no effort for me to just be myself, and the conversation moved along naturally.
I had - as I talk about so often now - assumed rapport with Neola. I hardly knew anything about her before we met up for pool, so my assumption was that we would be perfectly compatible friends, regardless of her background, and that there was no ice to break.
One interesting fact that I learned about Neola early on was her age. She's 30 years old, and I'm only 24. She was, by far, the oldest person I've hung out with. And yet, it didn't matter. While we played pool, I joked around as usual, and it was no different than with anyone else I've been myself with. When I told her I'd be turning just 25 next Monday, she made no reference to our age difference.
I also couldn't help but notice that I was very attracted to my new friend. I was guilty of the occasional checkout and a little bit of daydreaming, but otherwise, it didn't affect anything.
After she beat me in a couple games of pool, we moved on to the shuffleboard table. It was the first time either of us had played the funny game, so it was an opportunity to do more kidding around. It was also pretty easy to talk at the same time, so we learned more about each other.
It all sounds pretty ordinary, and that, my friends, is a beautiful thing. When I started out, my interactions were fraught with inhibition and other problems. Now, they range from simply ordinary to spectacular.
After a while, I realized that for some reason, I really liked Neola - a lot. I walked her to her car when we left. We had played for free, but for some reason, she thanked me. There was no hug (that might be uncomfortable for her since she has a boyfriend), but she asked which day my birthday was, and told me to text her when I got home safely. By the time I got home, I could see that the fond feelings I had for her with mutual, because she texted me first:
"Im home watching the mtv awards. i had a nice time."
A couple weeks ago, I wrote about my first pickup. Actually, "pickup" was an intentional misnomer. I was at my friend's birthday party in a small nightclub, and had loosened up so much that I decided to find someone random to talk to. I acted on my impulse to speak to a young lady who was sitting by the bar alone, and ten minutes later, I found myself asking for her phone number. It turned out she had a boyfriend, but was interested in being friends with me.
It was the first time I'd ever done anything like that. I could have easily been content dancing and meeting friends of my friend that night, not seeking out anyone else. I could have walked away when there was a lull in the conversation. I could have yielded to inhibition instead of asking for her phone number, or done any number of other such things that would have set my life on a different course - one that wouldn't have involved writing a blog entry called "From Impulse to Friend."
But instead, I followed my impulse, and here we are.
I sent her a text, asking if she wanted to play some pool on Sunday. She agreed, and I called her a few hours before to verify. It was actually the first phone call I'd made to a person that I hadn't met online. The problems from the past were gone: I felt relaxed and confident.
As I waited for her to arrive, I noticed that something was different. Even on my best days before, I had always felt anxiety before meeting someone for the first time. I had only spoken to her for 10 minutes in a loud nightclub beforehand, so I really knew much less about her than anyone I'd met online. And still, I was completely relaxed. There wasn't even a hint of anxiety.
Finally, Neola arrived. For the first time, I hadn't come with any conversation topics in mind at all. Instead, I just started out with something very general, like asking what she'd been up to. It took no effort for me to just be myself, and the conversation moved along naturally.
I had - as I talk about so often now - assumed rapport with Neola. I hardly knew anything about her before we met up for pool, so my assumption was that we would be perfectly compatible friends, regardless of her background, and that there was no ice to break.
One interesting fact that I learned about Neola early on was her age. She's 30 years old, and I'm only 24. She was, by far, the oldest person I've hung out with. And yet, it didn't matter. While we played pool, I joked around as usual, and it was no different than with anyone else I've been myself with. When I told her I'd be turning just 25 next Monday, she made no reference to our age difference.
I also couldn't help but notice that I was very attracted to my new friend. I was guilty of the occasional checkout and a little bit of daydreaming, but otherwise, it didn't affect anything.
After she beat me in a couple games of pool, we moved on to the shuffleboard table. It was the first time either of us had played the funny game, so it was an opportunity to do more kidding around. It was also pretty easy to talk at the same time, so we learned more about each other.
It all sounds pretty ordinary, and that, my friends, is a beautiful thing. When I started out, my interactions were fraught with inhibition and other problems. Now, they range from simply ordinary to spectacular.
After a while, I realized that for some reason, I really liked Neola - a lot. I walked her to her car when we left. We had played for free, but for some reason, she thanked me. There was no hug (that might be uncomfortable for her since she has a boyfriend), but she asked which day my birthday was, and told me to text her when I got home safely. By the time I got home, I could see that the fond feelings I had for her with mutual, because she texted me first:
"Im home watching the mtv awards. i had a nice time."
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