Mission Mania: Date #44

In compliance with the Ashlley Doctrine, I went on my third date of the week this Thursday. It was with Shantelle, yet another 26-year-old girl I'd met on eHarmony.

Shantelle was a little different. For starters, her profile talked about being ready for someone who is "serious about building a wonderful monogamous relationship." The same is probably true for most of the women on the site, but they usually don't advertise it.

We e-mailed back and forth a few times, and all of her messages had a serious tone to them - even when we were talking about favorite colors. She soon asked for me to call her instead. In over 15 months, she was one of only two or three people who wanted to chat on the phone at length before meeting.

I called her, and was comfortable, confident, and relaxed. It was if I had been put at ease by the fact that she seemed so serious. It didn't seem like she would be a good match for me, so there was nothing to lose or gain. She did, in fact, continue to seem serious when she spoke with her voice instead of the keyboard. There wasn't much in the way of jokes or laughter, compared to most people, but I could tell she enjoyed talking to me.

After a few shorter phone conversations, we met up at Starbucks.
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I wasn't sure if I had parked in a legal spot. My space was directly in front of the building, and it seemed a little too good to be true. I took a cursory look at the signs, but my date had already been waiting for a long time, so I wanted to get inside.

I walked in.

"Made it!"

I didn't even bother saying hello. After the phone conversations, I felt as if we were already so well acquainted that it wasn't necessary. She stood up and hugged me.

And then, we talked. The Starbucks was oddly quiet, with others around us reading, and no music in the background. My date spoke quietly, but I knew it was more than just the surroundings, since she had done the same on the phone. She was attractive, but, as expected, overly serious in demeanor.

I'd gone into the date planning to have fun, regardless of how serious she might be. I'd gained so much confidence in recent days that I looked forward to the evening as if it were a n upcoming performance. I wanted to entertain.

Though I was completely at ease and being myself, my date's choice of conversation topics at first left little room for my humor. She talked about the ethics involved with her job as a mental health clinician, and other heavy topics like that. I genuinely found it to be quite boring after a while, but kept up my end of the conversation. I asked questions and gave a few opinions, only to find that I didn't agree with her about several things. I could have tried to demonstrate why she was incorrect at times, but I consciously decided not to. I was not there to debate - I was there to entertain!

Finally, I had a chance to introduce a new subject. I asked about the music on her iPod, which she had on the table. She mentioned that everyone she'd been in relationships with had had odd, weird tastes in music that were opposite from hers. I joked, "You know what that means...." She said yes, and then added, "Opposite attracts." She wasn't on the same page, so I said, "No, it means you're the one with the odd, weird tastes!" (Duh)

Of course, I was being completely, 100% uninhibited. I was saying and doing whatever I was thinking and feeling. My voice was perfect, and the whole nine yards. I was the best I've ever been.

As we continued talking, when I noticed her boots. They were fantastic-looking black and white designer boots. I interrupted what she was saying to interject, "[Wow] Those are nice boots!" For some reason, I really liked the boots. I'd never understood how there could be anything sexy about footwear until that moment.

By now, Shantelle was starting to warm up. I didn't know if I could really be interested in her, but I was enjoying demonstrating my hard-earned social skills. My humor seemed to be breaking her down, revealing the fun side beneath her overly serious exterior.

I was no longer bored. After I pointed out that she didn't seem to have a Boston accent, she did an impression of the heavy accent characteristic of people in her home town. With completely loose, uninhibited mannerisms and tone of voice, I slouched back in my chair and waved my finger, telling her that her impression was so good that maybe she should come to acting school with me. I saw her capacity for humor once again when she asked, "So what do you do when you're not listening to death metal?" after I mentioned liking mere rock music. She hadn't even had an answer to the question of what she liked to do for fun, but I was starting to feel as if I could help her find the light, fun side of herself that obviously existed.

We'd been together a while, and I was following my new philosophy of letting first dates end naturally. Throughout the conversation, I continued to practice my skill of relating to my partner. I asked questions about things I knew she was interested in, like the upcoming Obama presidency. Her mention that she had just finished her last graduation requirement that day also came in handy. When there was a shot break in the conversation, I said randomly, "I feel like you should be out partying tonight." She happily agreed, sharing with me her feelings about the accomplishment.

I wasn't just good. I was damn good. I sat thinking that I was putting on a dating clinic the last several days. I was the best, and it was no exaggeration.

I'd been periodically glancing at my car parked questionably on the street outside. Shantelle had thought it was fine, but a policeman pulled up behind my Honda. I waited at first, and then exclaimed "Oh no!" the way Jerry Seinfeld would, and immediately ran outside when he started walking towards it.

It was pouring down rain.

I found that there was already a $100 parking ticket in my windshield. I decided that I might as well stay, and headed back to Shantelle until the officer stopped me and said, "That's a ticket, not a permit."

I was impressed by the officer's humorous comment, and wondered whether he came up with it on the spot, or if he had used it before.

Finally, I got back to Shantelle after moving my car.

I was unphased by this, the second parking incident in as many dates. I was completely confident, and the speed with which I vacated Starbucks and ran to my car had been nothing short of impressive.

I'd already known Shantelle liked me. After an hour, she had asked, "So after meeting me, do you think you want to continue talking to me?" When she asked a general question about me, I said, in the most relaxed way possible, "I'm pretty awesome." I exuded so much confidence that her only response was "You look like you're feeling awesome."

I offered to take her home. When we encountered a huge puddle on the way to my car, I offered, half-kidding, to carry her across. My constant barrage of lightheartedness prevented her from returning to any heavy subjects, and we finally reached her doorstep and hugged.

"Well, I definitely had fun. Definitely call me when you get home."
"Sure, I'll send you a text."
"No....you can call me....."
"Alright. Well I'll talk to you later - congrats again!"

I called her when I got home, and she reiterated that she'd had fun, and was updating her Feycebook status to say that she'd just returned from a good night out. She said not to be a stranger, and that if she didn't hear from me by the end of the weekend, she'd probably give me a call.

She'd mentioned during the date that I wouldn't have to guess about the way she felt, and now it couldn't seem more true. It'd be the stark opposite of dating most every other woman.

I thought that maybe that was just what I needed.

Mission Mania: Date #43

After my last experience with what looked like it'd develop into a relationship, I've really taken some good advice to heart. I've essentially implemented the Ashlley Doctrine, in which I'm determined to keep dating multiple women until I'm in a Feycebook-official relationship.

And so, I met another one of my eHarmony matches on Monday. Carmen had been the exact opposite of Pernella, speaking less through e-mail than anyone I had ever met up with. Early on, she sent me a couple messages in which she only minimally responded to my questions, not asking me any in return. I told her I wasn't sensing much romantic interest from her, but I'd love to be friends.

She implied that she was interested after all.

Online, I'm obviously always able to be myself. In fact, I've largely shaped myself into who I am today by participating in these hundreds of online communications. My e-mails have a very confident tone, and my profile portrays me as a super fun, busy, exciting guy. When I started out, it was a huge stretch to come up with true words that would convey that message. Now, though, I've done so many things toward the aim of socializing that I've actually become that person.

Before I went to Miami, I told Carmen she was an enigma because I'd thought she'd only been responding to be polite. She said she was anything but; I countered by proclaiming, "Nope. You're fascinating, babe. I'm going to unravel the mystery."

It's that type of confidence that I maintain in all of my e-mails. It's that person who my dates expect to meet. It's a person who my dates are excited to meet; even Carmen was willing to meet up with me even when she was sick - so that she wouldn't miss the opportunity- but I told her we'd wait.

I knew so little about Carmen that I was planning to meet up with her mostly because it's always so fascinating to go on dates with people after talking to them online. Unlike with Pernella, there was as yet no connection. Nothing to put on the line. It was a just-for-fun date in my mind, and as a result, I had virtually no anxiety.

We met up at Starbucks.
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I saw her through the window, ordering at the counter before I arrived. Unusually tall, with dark hair and glasses.

We hugged, and exchanged how-are-you's. I sat, but she implored me to order something so she wouldn't have to drink alone.

We exchanged how-are-you's once again. Already, I could hear the variance in inflection in my voice. I still had some warming up to do, but I knew that tonight, inhibition would play a minimal role.

Before the date, I thought about what to expect. I figured that since she hadn't had much to say online, she might be the most untalktative person I'd ever met. I might, for once, have to carry the conversation.

That ended up not being the case. I'd come with a handful of topics in mind, but as usual, didn't really need them. She seemed relaxed, and talkative enough for the both of us.

And so, we talked. I asked lots of questions, and she had lots to say. Soon, though, there was something striking about the conversation. We often weren't really talking about anything. Instead, there were jokes galore and a whole lot of silliness. She congratulated me on being the first person she'd met from eHarmony, and then said that I seemed more nervous than she. I joked that maybe I was just acting, and she responded with some bit about me being a midget in a costume. It would have all been pretty silly and unfunny, except for the fact that....we liked each other. It was an unmistakable feeling. I quickly became relaxed to the point that I could feel the difference in my body posture. After mentioning Feycebook (a good conversation topic for almost all young people), I said, "wanna see addicted?" and showed her one of my Feycebook cards. She got a kick out of it.

Carmen mentioned that she was taking a sculpting class and made figures, and I responded that I'd have to sculpt stick figures; she joked that they'd be figures, but that'd be about all. When I told her my age, she pointed out that she was a year older than me. I used my handy joke about my date being a sugar mama. She responded, "No....cougar!" and we both made a little rawr sound and clawing motion.

I realized that I've become an outstanding conversationalist when I'm uninhibited. I've learned that the most powerful thing one can do is to relate to his partner. Doing this, of course, requires that we know what is important to other individuals.

When we were talking about movies, Carmen mentioned seeing a new Holocaust film, among other things. With the Christmas music playing in the background, she later commented on how much she dislikes it, since she's Jewish and always had to hear so much growing up. Her religion was obviously important to her, and I had a chance to relate to it, in my typical humorous fashion. I told her that I always wish people Happy Chanukah, even though I'm not Jewish, just to balance things out since everyone else says Merry Christmas. She gave me a high-five.

We had been talking a while, and without much actual thought, I had a feeling that I didn't want it to end. In the past, I've purposely limited most of my Starbucks dates to 45-60 minutes, but decided to finally take a reader's advice and let things end naturally. This time, though, was the first I remember ever enjoying someone's company so much that I hoped I wouldn't have to leave them.

Carmen and I continued chatting, and it was obvious that we had a lot in common. She was just like me in the way of doing a vast number of different activities - like playing laser tag and shooting skeet. We had even both used meetup.com to make new friends (she's had more success with that than I have). And like me, she was goofy, fun, and playful.

As we talked, I couldn't help but remember what she'd said on eHarmony about being a "very, very" affectionate person when in a relationship. She said that she likes lots of hugs, hand-holding, and kissing, and has a high libido. Looking at her, my mind couldn't help but wander off into that territory. She was good-looking, but I was already starting to become attracted on a non-superficial level as well.

Her phone rang, and she checked it; it was her mom. She said that her mom could just leave a message. Later, she checked the time, and mentioned something about her bedtime being soon. I told her not to let me keep her, but she ignored the comment.

She said that she'd been doing all the talking. I didn't know what to say, since she hadn't asked a specific question, so I just responded "You're doing fine." She told me to say something, and then, silence. It was not an awkward silence; for some reason, we were just making funny faces at each other, until I finally asked "So what else do you do for fun?!" She bursted out laughing at the fact that I'd just asked her a question instead of saying something about myself.

After some more chatting, she checked the time again. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who didn't want our date to end. She said, "I guess we can stay another 10 minutes or so?"

True to her eHarmony profile, I learned that she's a very open person. She shared with me her fear of her biological clock starting to tick when she got older, and said that if she isn't in a relationship when she gets to be 35, she'll just go to a sperm bank. Carmen also told me how she was extremely shy up through high school. Yep. I doubt she ever had a blog, but she's already accomplished the task to which I've dedicated the last 17 months of my life.

We were the only customers left in the coffee shop, with the employees mopping the floor around us and preparing to shut down. In a natural, almost simultaneous way, we agreed to head out and stood up. The guy mopping the floor said that we could stay another 10 minutes, and that he didn't want us to feel that we had to leave. I thanked him, and told him we were fine.

Carmen, on the other hand, took the opportunity to make one of my typical jokes. She said he was trying to get rid of us. Immediately, I felt as if I had been too serious - how could I let her be funnier than me?! - so I came up with something. I told her, "You know, I think he's just trying to get rid of one of us....you!!" She laughed, and I said that he was looking at me when he said we could stay. She joked about the guy checking me out, and I said it was okay, because I was used to it. She asked if I meant by guys or girls, and I said both. As we walked out the door, I told her she'd see, if she kept hanging out with me long enough.

She laughed jubilantly.

When we reached her car, she said with a big smile as I hugged her, "Well it was nice meeting you!" I responded in kind, and she told me to have a safe trip home. I said "See ya," and the smile never left her face.

I looked out the window after getting in my car, and saw her wave as she passed by.

Fifteen minutes later, I was only about a third of the way home when I heard my phone beep. It was a text.

It was great to meet you! Next time I'm asking the questions!

I responded after arriving home.

"I can't help but ask questions, babe; you're fascinating."

Mission Mania: Date #42

After Autumn, I decided to take Ashlley's advice and date multiple women. With the huge boost in response rate on eHarmony after I turned 25, it became very easy to find dates.

Of the 8-10 women I've been talking to through eHarmony, two stood out far above the rest. The first was Pernella, who I exchanged e-mails with for about a month after going through the "guided communication" stage on the site She wrote more than anyone I'd ever met there, and compelled me to do the same. We found things we had in common, such as the surprising fact that she'd majored in computer science in college. More importantly, though, we connected, joking around and teasing each other about being nerds.

When I offered the standard Starbucks date - admitting that it's what people are supposed to do after meeting online - she suggested we ignore the convention and do something else instead. It would be my first dinner first-date since the historic Date #1.
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I decided to dress up in my clubbing attire, and knew that I was devastatingly good-looking. We hugged when she walked into the restaurant, and so it began.

Usually, any noticeable feelings of anxiety - that unmistakable, yet undescribable feeling - vanish almost immediately after I meet my date. This time, though weak, it stuck around for much of the evening.

Even still, I was fine. After a few minutes, I had warmed up, and was mostly able to be myself. I had a few topics of conversation in mind, but didn't need to search for them I'm truly past that point. Instead, I moved the conversation along effortlessly, without anything resembling an awkward silence.

Things were going well. I discovered that she had the same favorite TV show as me (How I Met Your Mother) and it proved to be a good topic of conversation. Thing weren't quite perfect, as I felt a little awkward at times, finding myself saying "You know...." while trying to explain things. My humor was about as good as ever, though, and I decided to relax and do whatever I wanted. In the past, I've avoided compliments and other things that show my interest. Now, with such an incredible number of dating options, I'm willing to experiment and risk coming on too strong, or anything else, if only for the fun of it.

Pernella is an attorney, and mentioned that she'd learned in school that a jury's decision is influenced by the lawyer's looks. I interjected that if so, she'd never lose a case! It felt good to compliment her; I liked her.

I liked her because she was extremely nice. In fact, she was easily the nicest girl I've ever been out with. A total sweetheart.

I noticed at least one subtle hint that she might feel the same way: she was mirroring me. We talked for a long time before even touching the food, until I finally took my silverware off the plate. She did the exact same thing. I waited before doing anything else, and so did she. As soon as I unwrapped my silverware, she did the same. I again waited a few minutes, until finally trying the food. She followed immediately.

When she asked why I've never tried alcohol, I gave my now-standard answer (initiated the day my inhibition died): "Just for the hell of it." Until then, she had never used any curse word in over an hour and a half. Then, only a few minutes later, she starting using the same word!

As time went on, I loosened up more and was able to find my playfulness. When I'm inhibited, my speech comes out sounding tentative and flat. When I'm not, my voice takes on a distinct quality of fluidness and variability. From day 1, these vocal qualities have been inextricably tied to my level of inhibition. Now, I was becoming untethered from its reigns. After asking whether Pernella had tattoos, I heard the variance in inflection in my voice as I exclaimed humorously, "What! No drug use, no tattoos..."

After carefully pronouncing a long sentence of Spanish words to order my desert, I said to the waiter in a playful tone, "I did good, didn't I?!" My date smiled and laughed. I was effortlessly able to think of things to say, including many jokes. When Pernella asked what I like about having a pet frog, I responded without thinking, "The companionship." She continued the joke.

I grew a little more anxious toward the end of dinner, but only because I wanted to quit while I was ahead.

I wish I had been able to.

My date had arrived via the subway, so I offered to take her home. The only problem was that I can never seem to remember exactly where I parked.

This time, I at least knew the garage. I was pretty sure of the level, though wasn't positive whether the color was red or dark orange. I had sent myself a text with a space number near my vehicle, but foolishly hadn't recorded the exact one.

I didn't see my car, so we walked around looking for it. I tried to make light of the situation, saying "See? You didn't know what you were getting into, did you?" She joked that yeah, she could have been home by now, but then tapped me laughing and said "Just kidding!" I later joked that she should know the garage since she's from the city, but she said, only half-kidding at best, that she couldn't know where I parked.

I wanted to be sure we had the right level, so we got on the elevator to check out the other options. Sure enough, it had to be the level we started on.

After about 10 anxious minutes of walking around the red level, I finally spotted my car. I was grateful to have found it, but knew that I had shattered my image of near-perfection.

We were back to chatting as usual on the way to her apartment, but there was one more stumbling block to add a little awkwardness and tarnish my confident image. I told her that I'd walk her up, as I forgot to do 41 dates ago.

I had to parallel park. I joked that we'd get to see my parallel parking skills, which weren't great since I was from the suburbs. It was obviously no big deal, but I didn't quite make it into the spot on the first try. I joked again, "Pathetic, huh?" as I waited for the traffic to pass so that I could make a second try. For some reason, she seemed to take it somewhat seriously, and said, "Aww! Are you embarrassed?"

I hadn't really been until that moment. I wasn't sure what to say, so I made another joke about my skills not being up to par by city standards. On the second try, I parked perfectly - only nerves had prevented that the first time. She said, in that sweet, reassuring way unique to the kindest of women, "See? Would never guess you're from the 'burbs!"

I wasn't sure the actual significance of the parking and car-finding snafu's, but I sure wished they hadn't happened.

We were still about 25 feet from the door when she started speaking nervously, muttering something like "Well, this is it." I wasn't sure if she was nervous because she was hoping I'd kiss her, or because she was hoping I wouldn't, or for some other reason. I stopped and hugged her, and she thanked me for dinner. I said "talk to you later." She nodded affirmatively, and said "Yeah. Have a safe trip home."

I became a bit anxious about the snafu's the next day or so, sporadically wondering what effect they would have. If not for those few minutes of a 3-hour date, I would have no doubt about seeing her again.

Worrying about mistakes is a mistake. Overall, I able to be myself, picking up where I left off with Autumn.

I had no choice but to move on quickly, because I had another date scheduled in less than 24 hours.

Mission Milestone Mania

Friday night, I went back to SuperBar. I hadn't been in two weeks, after staying away for the first time in a month after catching a cold. I was somehow rusty, and suffered from both a little anxiety and that inner voice that creates hesitation and avoidance. To make matter worse, the music was unusually sub-par, and didn't keep people dancing. The result? No bumping, no grinding.

I thought about not returning Saturday. I figured I might be better off watching TV at home. Throughout the day, though, I felt myself beginning to warm up socially. While waiting at the car wash, I decided to initiate some smalltalk with the cashier. I asked if business slows down when they're expecting bad weather. Classic. He mentioned that his friend owns a car wash in the western part of the state, and I asked about the area to sustain the conversation until another customer came in.

I moved on to a restaurant, where I could hear the subtle playfulness return to my voice when I said "Thank you!" after being welcomed in.

Boring stuff. That's not what this post is about.

I thought about how some of the best nights of my entire life came after not feeling like going out, and then going to SuperBar anyway. So I went.
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I don't know if people read the Lab Notes, but to make a long story short, I wrote on 11/23/2008 about the doorman who I made a little smalltalk with every week, until one night he pulled me out of the massive line (where they intentionally make people wait) and let me right in the club.

Last night, he did the same. He gave me a handshake/chest-bump hug, and told me "I got you. Anytime, baby!" It was official.

Being able to skip the line at a hot nightclub in the city is an amazing thing. I knew it was going to be a good night.

Inside, I stood by the wall moving around a little to the music, waiting for things to pick up. Soon, a girl walked by me, and gave me a look.

One of the things that I started working on before the mission was eye contact. I try to never break eye contact with a woman who looks at me. It's a confident move.

We kept our eyes fixed on each other for seconds as she walked by, until she finally said "hey," causing me to break a smile.

She stood and danced in a circle with a big group of her friends. It was a very diverse group of mature and obviously intelligent people.

I marveled at them. I realized that if I were to have a group of friends, they would be exactly like that. As I stood by, I started to think that I needed to make something happen. Somehow, this had to become my group of friends.

I shifted my focus occasionally to the girl I'd had the little staring contest with. Well-dressed with stockings covering her sexy legs, she was attractive. I realized that girls check me out in similar fashion every night, and that it obviously means they're interested. If only I could figure out what to say!

I started strategizing, and decided to try something new. Instead of trying to think of what to say - which usually ends up being something like "Come here often?" - I planned to try what's worked on dates: saying and doing whatever I'm thinking and feeling.

It turned out that I wouldn't need the plan to meet the girl.
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Someone placed a hand on my shoulder. I turned around, and it was her.

"Are you having fun?"

I responded without thinking.

"Oh yeah. Always! How about you?"

"Yeah. If I give you my number, will you call me?"

I was taken by surprise. It was a first, and an amazing one: How often does a woman ever make such a bold first move, in a nightclub, of all places? How incredibly interested would she have to be? How great was I?

The situation provided an instantaneous confidence boost. With no conscious thought, my confident playfulness returned. Instead of merely saying something like "Yeah, sure," I said, "How about you tell me your name first?"

Bina.

She asked mine, and I gently placed my hand on her back and my ear to her mouth so I could hear her over the loud music. After letting her add her number to my phone, I commented on the size of her group of friends. I then asked if she had been to SuperBar before, and we were off to having a conversation.

Soon, she asked where I lived. Amazingly, she lived in the same, relatively small suburb. After that, she asked what I do. In the future, I'll probably start out joking that I'm either a thug or a hero (that second one might not be a joke soon), but I just told her: I'm a software engineer.

The dozens of women I've been dating have been very diverse. White, black, Asian, Mexican, Native American, Polish. 4'10, 6'1. Retail clerks, students, lawyers, a nurse, a nanny, a doctor. But no software engineers.

She was a software engineer!

There is only a handful of female software engineers, and none work at my company. The fact that one who lived in my suburb had just approached me with amorous intentions in a nightclub was astounding.

I joked that I didn't believe her, and we talked briefly about geeky computer stuff. We joked that it may not work out because she writes Java and I write C and C++. We were laughing, and I knew it was a connection.

Eventually, she said she'd let me enjoy myself, and I commented that it was difficult to talk in the club. I told her I'd talk to her later, and went back to dancing, as vibrantly as ever. It was the first time I'd ever gone out and gotten a woman's phone number for romantic reasons. The first real pickup: Another milestone. I later passed her on the dance floor, and saw that another guy had taken her hand, trying for a chance to talk to her. She smiled, but walked away from him until their hands pulled apart. He was rejected.

Despite the hookup, I was still going to dance with as many honeys as possible, trying only to avoid coming on to girls in her group. At midnight, I put my sunglasses on, and got to it.
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As I made my away around the dance floor, I spotted one of the other regulars: a tall, very attractive girl with light red hair. She declined to dance with me during one of my very first outings to SuperBar, but on another night had smiled after making eye contact. I could tell she was a nice girl, though she very rarely danced with any of the many guys who approached her.

She was standing by the bar. With only a moment's thought, I followed my impulse to ask, "Having fun?" She shook her head no, and I asked why not. Her response was inaudible, so I gave up and asked another question. I asked if she was drinking, but only to make conversation, because I could see from the "X" marked on her hand that she was under 21. I said that I'd seen her at SuperBar several times, and that I come every Friday and Saturday. I joked that it was my home away from home.

I'd remembered her spending a lot of time talking to the muscle-bound bouncer one night, so I asked, "Where's your friend, the door man?" She tried to say something about him, but I couldn't make it out. She tried again, with the same result. For the fourth try, I said "Ok, one more time!" With a cute pout, she refused. I joked that she might as well try again, because she didn't have anything better to do!

I then moved on to asking a good question that I wished I'd asked Olivia: did she go to school? It was a topic I'd have plenty to say about, if she'd answered yes.

She pouted again, and said no. I figured out that the reason I couldn't understand her was not the music, but rather the fact that she had a strong German accent. I learned that she'd only been in the country five months; I never would have guessed. I asked if she worked, and she waved her hand to indicate "sorta." I joked, "every now and then?" She responded in kind, and her friend came over to say something.

And now, the idea. In the Lab Notes, I talked about a brilliant idea that I'd had to make a ton of new friends. I was sure that it was the greatest epiphany I'd ever had.

It's pretty easy to either talk to or dance with someone for a little while. All it takes it to simply demystify the person by initiating some interaction with them. After that, you see that they are, more often than not, friendly, and a lot like you.

What's not so easy is asking for a telephone number. There's just something about it. Women associate it with you wanting to date them, rather than wanting to be friends. With guys, it's just plain odd, unless you've hung out and talked for quite a long time.

The word in the next sentence is intentionally misspelled, so that people won't find this page when they google my brilliant idea.

Feycebook cards.

In the same shape and size of a business card, I made a Feycebook card with my name and network. After interacting with someone for a little while, I planned to simply hand them my card, and they could add me as a friend later. People love Feycebook, and since I'm such a fun person, they would be happy to add me. We'd already have an activity in common, so we could chat online later and hook up at a nightclub or somewhere else. It was absolutely brilliant.

When her friend finished talking, I asked, "Do you have facebook?" She said yes, and I pulled out one of my cards. I said, "Here: add me on facebook later and you can tell me what you were saying." She smiled, and I immediately headed back to the dance floor. I didn't know for sure how anyone would react to the unique and odd concept of me handing out personal cards at the club, so the hit and run paradigm served to ease my nerves.

Eventually, I found a cute, slim girl on the dance floor, and decided not to try to grind with her. I danced behind her with minimal contact. After moving around a bit, I discovered that she was lots of fun. She danced with me, and I started putting on a bit of a show on the now-sparse dance floor. She laughed and smiled, trying to mimick my apparently-awesome improvised dance moves. I put my hands around her waist on occasion, and she commented on how hot it was as I tried to fend off the sweat that was overcoming me.

After 20 minutes or so, her friend came over to speak to her. She then told me that she had to leave because she was riding the metro. It was virtually identical to the situation (also in the Lab Notes) that had given me the idea to make the Feycebook cards.

Does it make sense to forever lose contact with someone you like just because of the time?

Hell, no. I said, "Here, take this" as she started to walk away, and handed her a card. She glanced at it, smiled, and waved.
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How would people react to the crazy card concept? Just looking around at strangers, handing out cards had at moments seemed like an embarrassing thing to do. That anxiety simply vanished after establishing a little bit of friendly interaction with a person. It all made so much sense...

By the time I woke up this afternoon, the girl from Germany, Balda, had already added me to her list of friends.

P.S. I'm going to stop blogging now so that I can get dressed for my first of three dates this week. In the very beginning, I wrote that my plan was to "overbook" myself with as many social activities as possible. I've finally reached that point, having 8-10 women who I'm ready to go out with, but only 7 days in a week. This evening, I'm trying something different: a dinner first-date instead of Starbucks. There's plenty of room for experimentation.