The Middle of the End

I first went to SuperBar on a warm Saturday night in early September. My experience that night was a spectacular one, constituting the biggest step I've taken towards obliterating shyness from my life. As it turns out, that night was no isolated incident. In the last 4 months, I've returned to the nightclub on more weekends than not, and have enjoyed many of the best nights of my life.

At the front of the long lines outside SuperBar was a super-friendly doorman. I eventually learned that his name was Danny, and so started greeting him by name every time I saw him. When I returned from Miami, I decided to attempt a little smalltalk, and mentioned that a nightclub there stayed open until 10am (actually, later!). He then stopped processing other patrons so that he could tell me a story about his honeymoon trip to Miami and several islands. And that, my friends, was it: I haven't waited in line since. When I walk up, Danny sees me, asks how many people are with me, and motions for me to come around the line for him to let me in. He shakes my hand or hugs me, and I go right in.

Danny's act of gracious kindness in letting me skip the line was priceless. The normal waiting time is up to an hour, which would be less than fun this time of year, what with all the freezing temperatures. At Christmas time, I decided to show my appreciation by bringing him a $50 gift card to the Cheesecake Factory restaurant.

Last week, I returned after a three-week hiatus following the holidays. Danny called me out of line as usual.

He pursed his lips tightly, shook his head, and said - almost as if he were choking up in gratitude - "What you did, man..."

"Hey. As long as I'm working at a club, I've got you. If you ever decide to switch clubs, let me know where you're going and I'll call over there and make sure I have someone to take care of you."

He then went on to continue thanking me, exclaiming that he'd taken both of his kids out to the restaurant. On the way in, he pointed me out to the other bouncers and doormen, telling them that I was the guy he'd told them about who had given him the Cheesecake Factory gift card.

For me, it was nothing. I would have gotten him a $100 gift card, if there had been one. If I'd had the money, I would have bought him a car. A luxury one.

As I walked in, he continued to praise me, saying that I was "good people" and that I never ask for any favors, either.
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Once inside, I was off to a slow start. Oddly enough, I hadn't gotten any real action at SuperBar the last 2 or 3 times I'd been. I had somewhat reverted back to being a bit too inhibited for all of the daring and winning that makes the clubbing experience so fun.

The dance floor was relatively dead, but I eventually started to just dance and have a good time. A girl I'd been checking out nearby eventually started dancing with me. In this case, it wasn't boy-girl dancing, but rather, wild, crazy dancing that would make many people think we were a bit tipsy. I've in fact never had a drink, and my dancing was more coordinated and better looking than hers. I had been focused on my partner for about 15 minutes without looking around to see what else was happening. I then noticed something interesting: the dance floor was no longer dead. It was now vibrant, with lots of couples and groups dancing and having a great time instead of standing around and talking. It was as if my partner and I had brought life to the place.

Since my first amazing night at SuperBar, I've been able to do such free and uninhibited dancing that I can almost always say that I'm the most lively person in the building. In this dance partner, I had found my equal. We were constantly dancing, so I didn't attempt a conversation, but she smiled, laughed, and gave me high-fives during the show we were putting on.

After about an hour and a half, she finally said she had to leave. We hadn't talked enough to learn anything else about each other, and so asking for a phone number would have felt awkward, at best. It was precisely the situation I'd encountered several times before, which triggered the idea of making Feycebook cards with my name, profile picture and network.
How great would it be to have a friend like this to go dancing with?

She held out her hand to shake mine, but I reached in my pocket for one of the cards. I said, "Here, take this." She looked at it, smiled, and gave me a final high-five.
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Between a 9-5 job, commuting, dating, blogging, and doing a few other things, it's hard for me to get enough sleep. As a result, I almost always feel very tired on Saturdays. Yesterday was no exception. I felt like curling up in bed, rather than braving 20-degree temperatures and driving to the city to go to SuperBar. Still, though, I remembered two things. First, I have always felt invigorated almost immediately after stepping foot in the place. It's an amazing fact that I could attribute to magic, but scientifically, there is probably an explanation involving endorphins and such. Second, I remembered that several of the best nights of my life started with me feeling like sleeping, but going to SuperBar anyway.

And so I went.

Danny called me out of line and greeted me as usual. He told one of the other bouncers to take care of me, and then pointed me out to another. He told him, "Get to know this face." The other bouncer asked my name, told me his, and shook my hand. On the way in, Danny pointed me out to the other staff once again. He wanted to make sure that I'd be taken care of anytime he wasn't there.

Inside, I was wearing my standard attire, consisting of dress slacks and an expensive designer shirt. I noticed a beautiful girl's eyes fixated on mine for a couple of seconds as she passed by. Without hesitation, I said "What's up?", and she said something inaudible as she smiled, caught off-guard by my response. She must have then pointed me out to her friend, because I caught the friend's glance a few seconds later. I immediately understood that I had a mojo, and knew it was going to be a great night.

Still, though, I was off to a bad start. I started anxiously dwelling on the quality of my interaction with all of the staff. I felt so anxious that phrases I've hardly ever uttered in this blog, like social anxiety disorder, started popping into my mind. I wanted to dance with some women once the dance floor got crowded, but my anxiety remained, and inhibition followed suit. It was unusual for me.

I couldn't seem to find a dance partner; not because one wasn't available, really, but because I was too inhibited to make a move if the situation seemed anything less than perfect.

Finally, I did something. I was dancing behind tall, dark-haired girl who was talking to a friend, and finally moved close enough to slowly dance with her. When I saw that she was aware of what I was doing and didn't move away, I made full contact with her, and we began the always-fun grind dance. Immediately, my anxiety evaporated, and did not return the rest of the evening.

She soon turned around to face me. I asked her name while continuing to dance, and learned that she was named Kira and had a foreign accent. She then asked my name: a good sign. I attempted some smalltalk, saying that I hadn't seen her there before, and that the music was usually better Saturday nights.

Somewhere, there might have been a mistake, because she did something no other girl had ever done. Another guy came up and touched her gently for a moment. After about a minute, she said to me, "I'm sorry."

For what?

She was going to dance with the other guy. It didn't bother me; in fact, it was laughable, and kind of interesting!

I went back to dancing alone, and decided that the little incident would not have occurred in vain. I would make something out of it. I decided that I would never again use the smalltalk about the music, nor the "Come here often?" type of opening. That may or may not have been the problem, but it was obvious that saying things that web sites (other than this one) tell guys to say was way too unoriginal. As I observed the newly-formed couple, I saw my antagonist put his arms around Kira after she turned to face him. She reacted positively, and I finally understood that when a girl I've been dancing with turns around, it isn't because she doesn't want to dance sensually anymore; it's because she wants to switch positions. It was an observation that would soon lead to a potentially epic change of events. Besides, Kira wasn't my type anyway, so the snub really just meant that I was free to find a girl who was.

I walked around to explore.
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In the basement, I nodded at a guy in his mid-30's who I had noticed earlier. He asked if I always came by myself. We chatted a bit, and I learned that he was named Leon and had been in the military for 18 years, and came to SuperBar alone often because his girlfriend lived in Atlanta. He then mentioned how friendly Danny is, and asked how I knew him. He offered to buy me a drink, but I wasn't yet thirsty.

As I moved on to explore the rest of the club, I realized what had just happened. Leon had noticed my status at the club outside, and so was interested in befriending me. Who wouldn't want to be friends with someone who could avoid hour-long waits in freezing weather?

Upstairs, I noticed a girl in a group of three checking me out. A momentary fixation of the eyes: the universal signal of female attraction. I passed by and went to the bathroom to wipe off some sweat before returning.

I danced on the outside for a moment, then, with very little thought, took a place in the circle with the three girls.

"What's up, ladies?"

It was one of the rare times that I'd spoken to people before dancing with them.

I didn't see the reaction from the girl I'd caught checking me out, but the one on my left said seductively and excitedly, "Heeeeeyyy!"

I said hey, and continued dancing for a few moments. She moved toward me and started to turn away from me, and I knew she wanted me.

She was gorgeous. Medium height, soft features, creamy skin tone. Tight jeans, slim, sexy body.

We started doing a smooth, sexy grind dance, and must have looked awesome together. And boy, was she good at it! We pressed our faces together gently as we got more into it. It was an amazing warm feeling, somehow unlike any sensation I'd ever experienced. She broke out a move I recognized from the instructional video on the grind, running her left arm quickly down my head and neck. I rewarded the effort with a couple of soft kisses on her back and neck. I had some moves of my own, and used them. I took her hand, nearly in awe of how wonderfully soft and warm it felt. She seemed to enjoy holding my hands just the same, taking my free one. I raised both her hands above her head, played with other movements, and...

I talked to her.

"You smell good.........What's your name?"
"Rachael."

Before the mission, I used to read articles about picking up girls, even though I had never tried it. Lots of the information there was questionable, but one claim that I would prove tonight would be that if you ask a woman's name, you shouldn't tell her yours unless she asks. She will ask if and only if she is interested.

".... and you are?"

I told her my name. Now, I would not repeat the mistake of asking the cliche "Come here often?"

"Did you party anywhere for New Year's?"

I had thought of it in advance.

"Nah. I was at home."
"Where's home?"
"New Jersey. I live in a small town, so there aren't any nightclubs or anything."

Having noticed the "X" on her hand indicating that she wasn't yet of drinking age, I immediately thought of a good question.

"Are you down here for school?"

She told me where she's studying, and asked me the same question. After delighting in a few more wordless minutes of surreal pleasure, I said, "....Are you a dance major?" She burst out laughing.

We kept dancing. When she turned around, I remembered my experience with Kira, and immediately decided to be more aggressive. I put my hands around her, and she initiated a frontal grind dance with me. I was able to align myself and move rhythmically with her to perfection, even though it was only my second time or so. We were indulgent, ignoring the rest of the room as we allowed intense attraction and arousal to blur the line between dance and simulated sex.

We weren't really having a conversation anymore, but my time with her was distinctly different than with all of the many other girls I've danced with. After even such a short conversation, it felt as if we were there together. When I had my hands around her thighs, I felt her phone vibrate, and told her to check it out. She responded to the text, and we went back to dancing. When she stopped to look at something going on with the club security, I asked if those were her friends involved. Underneath the blowing fan, she commented, and I asked if she was getting cold. There was just a different, relaxed feeling since the ice had been broken with a little bit of conversation.

Finally, her friends decided to leave. I asked, "gone?" and she said "Yeah, sorry," walking away with her friends. It had happened too fast for me to really react.

I stood for a few moments, and I thought. If I did nothing, I'd probably never see this girl again. And if I did do something, what did I have to lose?

Absolutely nothing.

I decided to find her. I was going to search the club like a man on a mission.

After plowing through the crowds of people on the dance floors, I reached the brightly lit coat check area in the basement. I walked by her at first, going to the bathroom to again wipe off the sweat. When I came back, I pulled out one of my Feycebook cards.

She was standing in line with her friends, looking in her purse for her coat check ticket.

"Rache!"

She looked up.

I handed her the card and said, "Look me up."

I then immediately turned away and walked a little more quickly than usual toward the door. My coup would likely have been more effective with a confident wink, but I wasn't used to giving out the cards, and felt a little embarrassed.

Still, though, I was proud of myself for not having given up like most people would have.

I returned to the main dance floor, happier than I had been all night. The feeling radiated through my dance. I started dancing close to a cute Asian girl - this one at least 21 - who was in a group with her friends. She reciprocated, but very lightly, frequently turning to avoid getting into the hot-and-heavy dancing most of the girls so shamelessly do with me.

I inferred that she liked me, but was just a little reserved. Again, I decided to actually talk to her. I learned her name - she asked mine in return - and that she was a senior at a university in the city.

For context, I should point out that I look really good when I go to SuperBar. There isn't anyone much more stylish, and few are as bold as to wear dark sunglasses in a dark nightclub. I figure that no one will guess that I'm pretty much a nerd with a great job, and so smart girls like this have no way of knowing that I could be a great match for them. Now, after I asked what she did, she asked me the same question.

"I'm a software engineer."

She said "wow," apparently impressed by the combination of my outgoingness and intelligence. I said what came to mind, which was that her purse was pretty - and it was. She asked if she could see my eyes, so I removed my shades and joked that she should get a good look at them. Eventually, she had to go somewhere with her friends, and said maybe she'd see me later. I wasn't about to leave it to chance, so I said, "Here, take this, in case I don't see you." I handed out my second Feycebook card of the night.

I moved on, dancing with some other girls. They acted innocent instead of doing the hot-and-heavy dance with me, but I realized something interesting: no one was running away tonight. It was as if everyone in the building liked me.

It was getting late, but I spotted one more girl I wanted to dance with. She didn't seem approachable at all - not to fault her, because it was mostly because she was so attractive. By now, though, my inner voice of shyness had been silenced. I moved in, and she complied.

Now, I had this thing down pat. 5 minutes of great dancing, then I asked her name, and she asked mine in return, making it a perfect 4/4 for the night. I didn't feel like I had a great question to fit both the girl and the situation, so I did the rest of the talking with my body.

The combination of my practiced dance moves and uninhibited, free spirit had become a great asset. When she turned and faced me, I put on a show. With each great move, she smiled and laughed. When I did an impromptu slide, I was surprised myself by how good it looked, and I could tell she was impressed as she laughed.

Again, I had achieved a mixture of rapport and physical attraction with my partner. This time, I put my hands around her when she was facing me, with her doing the same in response. I was in awe of her amazing it felt to just touch her, both physically and mentally. In synch - I can't remember who started it - we started doing the frontal grind, rhythmically pushing our bodies together, now in sheer passion.

I pulled away when the "fun" songs came on, freezing my moves and then jumping around in a circle, as I always do, to the tune of Jump On It. I felt the relaxed rapport, and asked if she'd taken the metro in when it got close to closing time. Then, I knew it was about time for me to leave.

"Ady, I'm gonna get out of here."
From her expression, I could sense that my departure meant something to her. I meant something to her.

I added, "Are you on Feycebook?"
She nodded, then added enthusiastically with a smile, "Yeah, I'm on Feycebook."

I pulled out one of my cards, and said, "Take this. Don't lose it. I'll talk to you later."
The genuineness of her smile and enthusiasm was unmistakable.

I walked away, thinking of the possibilities.

In the coat check line, I spoke to the girl behind me, asking if she'd had a good night. I joked that she looked like she'd just come from a swim, since her hair was soaked with sweat. She laughed and spoke back to me, totally unlike many cold, standoffish girls I'd tried speaking to on past nights at clubs.

On the way out, one of the employees I'd never noticed before said to be safe. I told him to have a good night, and he gave me a fist bump. It reminded me that another one of the staff inside had given me a friendly, impromptu pat on the shoulder last week.

I walked outside, and Danny called me by name, telling me he'd see me next time and to take care of myself.

I walked into the garage, and the attendant, who I speak to every week when I park for SuperBar, smiled and waved happily to me.

It dawned on me: tonight, everyone liked me. Even the few girls who weren't interested had been nice to me! Perhaps through the combination of my vibrant, friendly, free spirit and my noticeable status with the club staff, I had simply become popular.

Popularity is a long, long way from shyness.

Driving home, I felt a rare kind of satisfaction. It reminded me of the way I felt after hanging out with Amorita's friends at a party over the summer, completely free from inhibition. I had the feeling that I would soon have many friends, and a great girlfriend, all without the need for craigslist, eHarmony, or any other online nonsense. I could entertain people and make friends any weekend of the year! I then started to believe that the endeavor that has defined the last 18 months of my life is one of the great undertakings in the history of mankind. It was an unbelievable feeling; the kind of thing you have to experience before you have any idea at all what you've been missing.

Mission Confusion

For a while, I thought I had this thing licked. In the final weeks of 2007, I had more dates than I had time to write about. I could easily say they all went between "pretty well" and "fantastic" - certainly a far cry from what I described in the early days of the mission - but somehow, I ended up being snubbed by all four women.

Amazing.

In the spirit of metaphors about falling off of horses and all that, I simply kept going. After feeling an entirely new brand of confidence after my date with Bina, it seemed as if the tremendous improvement I'd made since July had to be enough. I'd put my heart and soul into changing my life, and finally, it must have been time for my efforts to be rewarded. The mission was always about more, but now I knew what I wanted: a girlfriend.

And so I kept dating.

Date #49

On a Wednesday night after work, I met Vickie, a girl I'd been e-mailing after we met on eHarmony a while ago. I'd done little preparation and strategizing, instead thinking that I need not do so anymore. I realized my error almost immediately, as my greeting - "Heyyy Vickie" - came out sounding soft and weak, like it typically does at work. I hadn't intentionally projected my voice from the outset, which is one of the few tricks I've discovered that works with surprising consistency.

As we sat and talked over coffee, I was moderately inhibited. I tried to break out of it by connecting my true personality to my voice, but oddly, there seemed to be something physically wrong this time. I was still getting over a cold, and the antihistamine I'd taken affected my throat and thus my speaking ability.

Nonetheless, I improved. I'd had a few conversation topics planned as usual, and made a concerted effort to entertain, which is something that I've come to look forward to and enjoy, as if it were a challenge, or even a sport. When my question about Vickie's job as a Physician Assistant led to her telling me about minor medical problems, I skillfully shifted the conversation and made a joke by adding, in a loose, uninhibited voice, "Spoken like a true physician assistant!"

At first, Vickie hadn't asked me many questions; it seemed as if she were just asking a few things to be polite and make conversation. After I started to improve, though, I'd managed to find a topic we both had plenty to say about, and lo and behold: we were now having a good conversation. I was relaxed and joking when she asked, out-of-the-blue, "So do you live alone?"
I knew then that she had become interested in me, and so the question had suddenly become relevant.

When we parted ways, she said, "Well I had a good time. Let me know if you want to get together again."

I had succeeded in turning around both my inhibition and my date's interest level after a rocky start. Still, though, I knew that she wasn't really my type - something that I've come to understand after dating dozens of women - so I didn't plan to ask her out again.

Date #50

After being matched on eHarmony and exchanging short e-mails for over a month, I gave Bridgette a call after the holidays. I bumbled a sentence or two, but managed to make a humorous comment after a few minutes. We planned to arrange to finally meet the next week.
I had felt very stiff on the phone and figured my anxiety showed, but I soon learned that I had nothing to worry about. Bridgette sent me an e-mail:

"Thanks for call! Hopefully we can meet up soon! Have a great week!"

I then realized that she'd probably been just as nervous and self-conscious as I'd been. I also remembered her first eHarmony message, in which she'd asked a question based on something in my profile in order to relate to me and start a conversation. It was striking because I've done that all the time, but had never noticed women doing the same.

She sent me a text on Friday, asking if I wanted to get coffee or a drink over the weekend. She was asking me out. I'd never done a blind date on a Saturday, but if she was willing to ask me out, I was certainly willing to devote some weekend time to meeting her.

Starbucks.

She looked just like her pictures, except that her enormous green eyes were a remarkable sight in person.

This time, I stuck to my plan. I projected my voice intentionally, and was off to a good start. As we waited, she asked if I'd done anything the night before. I had anticipated the question, and had a joke prepared; it had been six degrees outside that night, so I said calmly, "Oh, yeah. It was such a nice night, I just laid outside underneath the stars..."

Now, I was not bumbling. The joke was executed perfectly.

She reached in her purse, and I pulled out a bill to pay for the drinks and said, "I got it." She asked if I was sure, and I took it as a subtle indicator that she must have been a little nervous: no one else had ever said that at Starbucks.

As we sat and talked, I felt a nervous tension in my body. It was like that which we became all too familiar with in the early days of this blog, but now, I had more control. I felt tense, but what was there to actually stop me from saying and doing whatever came to mind? From simply being myself?

We hadn't had much of a conversation online, and I really wasn't sure if we had much in common. The easiest thing to talk about was our jobs, but I felt as if that were boring, and that I was spending too much time on it. Bridgette wasn't asking many questions, and I started to feel early on that she wasn't interested. I did my best to stay present instead of thinking about it, but with the tension, thinking of things to say was difficult. Even when asked a basic question about my job, it took me several moments to think of the words for even a basic description of what I do every day!

Instead of letting the tension translate to inhibition, I forced myself to take on my uninhibited persona. For the most part, it worked: I was able to project my voice well, and say whatever came to mind. When my date asked if I had any pets, I played my usual game of giving her three guesses before admitting to having a frog. Telling a beautiful 26-year-old woman about a pet frog would seem a little intimidating, but I went on to tell her the story of how he got his name. Instead of just spouting off preprepared questions like in an interview, I was able to sound natural, such as when I prefaced a question with "I know I already asked you this [online], but..."

By now, my personality was showing through, even though the tension remained. I thought of some humorous questions and comments, and even managed to do a little friendly teasing. When she mentioned the intelligence of one of her pet cats, I briefly told her the story of Christian the Lion, telling her that she had to see the YouTube video for herself. In effort to keep the conversation going, I asked her about Feycebook, and then showed her one of my cards. She said it was super nerdy. I exclaimed, "Oh yeah!", giving her a high-five. I didn't think she found the nerdiness at all attractive - she even said it was a little creepy - but I consciously decided to just let go and be myself.

Eventually, the inevitable silence occurred. After experiencing freedom from inhibition in earlier days, I had decided that no silence need be awkward. Instead, all that was necessary was to share your present thoughts or feelings with the other person. I remembered what one of my many dates from the past year had said, and so I repeated it:

"Lets see.....what else can I ask you..."

I asked if she had any tattoos to get the conversation going again, but I had been asking almost all of the questions. We'd been together close to an hour, and yet, she hadn't really learned any of the interesting facts about me - from the dancing, to the acting, to the rock climbing or Miami trip - simply because she hadn't asked. It seemed obvious that she simply wasn't interested, and I figured she was just trying to wait out the date to be polite.

Soon, I said - with uninhibited voice inflection - "Well, I don't know what else you have planned today, so I won't hold you."

She reminded me that she was going to the furniture store, which prompted me to tell her one more thing about my job. There was a brief exchange, and then she stood up.

Walking out to the car with her, I wondered what I'd done wrong. I realized that even though I'd felt a little tense, I had mostly managed to be myself anyway. Why was she so uninterested? Was it physical attraction? I knew I looked even better in person, so I was hopelessly confused. What had she been expecting?

It wasn't at all surprising, but she didn't say she had a good time. Instead, she said only, "Well, thanks for coming out."

I told her to have fun at the furniture store, and - just for the hell of it - said I'd talk to her later. She didn't say anything in response, seemingly so as not to even feign the slightest bit of interest.

I was sure that I would never see her again, but for some reason, I liked her anyway. I thought about sending her some sort of e-mail that would hopefully lead to us being friends. Ultimately, I ended up just sending her the link to the Christian the Lion video, without any words.

Date #51

After my date with Bridgette, I wasn't too upset. I had always thought it would be funny to have multiple dates with different women on the same day, and finally, that day had arrived. In a few more hours, I was to meet Tiffany - another girl from eHarmony - at a Starbucks in the state bordering mine.

I was extremely optimistic about Tiffany. We'd hit it off in our online conversation, which quickly turned romantic with genuine compliments a little lighthearted flirting. She'd written me long, upbeat messages, replete with exclamation marks and smileys. I thought that this was the girl I was going to marry.

I'd thought the same about several other girls I met during the mission, and, well, I don't have to tell you how those ended up.

She walked into Starbucks and said hello. I gave her a hug, and she asked if I was going out tonight, since I'd mentioned that I only had a few hours free that day.

I stumbled only slightly, answering the question in such a way as to avoid telling her that I'd been on another date earlier, and that I was going out to SuperBar alone hoping to meet girls later. Immediately, my confident, uninhibited persona started to show.

And it never let up.

I started to make conversation, asking a few questions like where she worked. She gave some short answers, and then when her phone rang, she answered it.

It was her dad calling about her mom's impending arrival in the city, but she didn't apologize or excuse herself.

I asked if she wanted to go get some food, and we did. I was as relaxed and confident as ever, perhaps because Tiffany didn't look or sound quite the way I expected, and was already turning me off with the poor manners.

As I drove, I continued to make conversation, but my date acted like a dead fish. At one point, I asked if she knew the clubs in Miami, since it's one of her favorite places, but instead of answering, she told me to make a left turn, and never returned to my question.

As we ate, things did not change. She answered her phone again, and was only minimally responsive to me, asking only one or two questions the entire time. I was annoyed, and started thinking to myself how much I disliked the girl - which was a lot. Still, though, I intentionally remained gentlemanly and upbeat, continuing to practice my skill of entertaining. I was able to get her to joke around a little - probably an overstatement - by talking about a topic she was very interested in (Barack Obama), but it wasn't nearly enough to salvage the horrendous date.

When I dropped her off, she thanked me for dinner, and told me to have a safe drive - all with minimal emotion. I had been at my best with her, carrying on the same personality as online, but Tiffany acted as if she practically resented hanging out with me for a couple hours. What could she have possibly been expecting? I was confused.

As soon as I arrived home, I deleted her number from my phone.
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Now that I've been staying so busy, my time for posting here has been limited. I haven't published all of the posts that I've written, and there is in fact a partially-written New Years Resolution post hanging around. Spoiler alert!!! One of the items on that list is "Abandon online dating." After my spectacular dating failure on this day, I finally wanted to really give it up.

When I logged in to cancel my eHarmony membership, I noticed that Tiffany had viewed my profile a couple days after our date. The next day, she again did same. Surely, she couldn't have been interested, hoping that I would ask her out again?

I virtually despised this girl for acting the way she did on our date, so it didn't matter. But there was still the matter of Bridgette, who for some reason I liked a lot and e-mailed the link, hoping we could somehow become friends.

I checked my e-mail.

Super cool!!

I saw an animal planet show about an orphaned rhino being raised by a woman, and how they were friends for life even after the rhino went back to the wild. I tried to find it on youtube, but no luck.

Good meeting you finally, after a yearrrrrrr!!

I'm in town next week if you're around for a drink.

B

I was confused, but overjoyed to the point of jumping out of my chair. It's amazing to think that you can completely lift someone's spirits by simply suggesting meeting up for a drink.

Simple, powerful, and beautiful.

Date #48: Absolute Confidence

Even though I had no real social life to speak of in the years before the mission, I did have a couple of romantic pursuers over the years. With them, the issue was not my shyness; rather, I was simply not interested. I was relaxed when pursued by a girl I was not interested in, but completely inhibited with the ones I liked. Quite the dilemma.

Back then, I wondered what it would be like for a girl I actually liked to pursue me the way a couple of others did. With the girls asking for my phone number, complimenting me, calling me, inviting me out and so on, how could I possibly be inhibited? In those rare cases, I could do no wrong! I started to think that the solution to my lifelong problem of shyness was to simply luck up, crossing paths with a girl I'd like who thought I was as great as the other few did.

It turns out that Bina, the woman who made the first move at SuperBar, is just like those few girls who were so interested in me back in college and high school. After our first date, she called me after three days. She sent me a text on Christmas, and then many more afterwards in efforts to set up another get-together. Partly because of our 10 year age difference, though, my interest was minimal - just like back in school. This time, though, I decided to give it a try. It would be a learning experience, at the least, and why shouldn't I give her a chance to make me fall in love with her?

And so arose the forty-eighth date of the mission.
___________________________

With Bina, I never feel even a smidgeon of anxiety in person, on the phone, or in any other situation. Simply put, you can't be anxious with a person with whom you believe you can do no wrong. After picking her up and driving to the restaurant, I felt no change. Instead, I was my now-oft described relaxed, uninhibited, entertaining self, effortlessly thinking of things to say.

As we sat and talked next to the Hibachi grill, Bina's lack of confidence with me was obvious. She was very talkative, happy, and excited to be with me, but it was as if she thought I was some kind of celebrity out of her league. As we talked, she was compelled to check appearance using a compact. She mirrored my behaviors by eating when and how I ate and things like that - normal signs that someone likes you - but worried too much about offending me. From my perspective, she had nothing to worry about in that respect. Still, though, when I told her that I was going to wash my hands because I was afraid of catching another cold, she said she hoped I didn't mind that she wasn't concerned herself. When I returned from the bathroom, she'd apparently thought it over, and decided that she should wash her hands too in case it bothered me. Worst of all, when I stood up to go to the bathroom, she jokingly told me not to jump out of the window to get away.

As it turns out, this degree of diffidence is very unattractive - even in a woman. I was genuinely turned off.

As we were eating, I noticed a girl at another table looking at us and smirking. She pointed us out to her male companion, and it was obvious that a comment was being made about the age difference between myself and my date. I knew to ignore the onlookers, who were way out of line, but the little incident certainly didn't help matters.

After dinner, we headed over to a bowling alley around the corner. I was completely at ease, and noticed that I was able to keep joking and entertaining even while checking out the action going around in the rest of the room. I felt as if I was doing next to nothing - and really, I was - but my date was smiling, laughing, and obviously having more fun than anyone else I've ever been out with. She kept giving me little hugs to cheer me up after several gutter balls and other pathetic attempts (I'm not much of a bowler!). At some point, she joked that she would give me the magic touch by holding my hand before my turn. Lo and behold, I bowled a strike on my next try! She then turned it into a ritual, coming to sit next to me and holding my hand before each turn. In the forty seven dates before this, I'd scarcely even touched my dates, but Bina couldn't keep her hands off of me.

When we arrived back at her place, she invited me in - another rarity. After I took a seat on the sofa, she said she'd be right back. I heard her running up the stairs to get a heater and return to me as quickly as possible. She was 35 years old and would be my boss if we worked at the same company, but with me, she reverted to being a lovestruck schoolgirl.

As we sat on the sofa and chatted, I knew that I could do whatever I wanted. For the first time in my life, I was experiencing absolute, unadulterated confidence. I was experiencing the powerful feeling of knowing that another human being would submit to me in any way I wished. I could say or do anything. Perhaps partly because of this emotion, I felt physically attracted to Bina, who was about a foot away.

After 10 minutes or so, I said that I'd better head home and get ready for work. As Bina disarmed the security system and opened the front door for me, I sensed concealed disappointment.

It was time to make a decision, and so I did.

In a softer, sweeter, slower voice, I stated my usual "Alright...have a good night."

I had decided to keep my options open.

I placed my right hand on Bina's waist, leaned in, and kissed her. Whether or not I was interested, my body recognized that I was a boy and she was a girl, and reacted accordingly.

The kiss lingered for a couple of seconds before I pulled away. Without thinking, I then put my left arm around Bina to hug her. In silence, she responded slowly, pausing between movements as she made the motions to hug me back. It was as if she were confused: she had been mesmerized by my kiss.

Without a word, I walked out the door.

Friendship Windfall

For Christmas, I got a new touchscreen cell phone with a feature that lets you designate people as "Favorites" so that you can call or text them quickly. Naturally, I thought to add all of my friends as Favorites. It was then that I realized there were only three. I made a few friends along the way during my mission, but only two of those remained.

For mostly different reasons, I had posted an ad on craigslist a few days before. Listed under the "strictly platonic" section, it simply asked whether anyone knew of a studio teaching hip-hop dance in the area, since the location of my first course has switched over to a strictly ballroom. I expected the replies to provide only a word of advice, at best. This may have been the case, except that I asked a couple of questions in response to kickstart a conversation with the two girls who replied.

The first was Rebecca. I simply asked what kind of dance she did. She responded enthusiastically, telling me all about her experience with dance and asking my story. We then talked live through gchat, where I discovered that she's just about the sweetest girl you could imagine. When I added her on Facebook, she asked if I wanted to meet some day, when she gets back from her trip to Israel.

The second reply was from Natalie. She asked me to let her know when I found a place, and I gave her the web sites Rebecca had sent to me. We didn't e-mail much after that until one day when I logged into gchat by accident. She sent me a text.

"hey how are you?"
"hey hey. good =) you?"
"I am ok. although lately I have been slumping back into my introspective moods"

At that point, I thought jokingly to myself.... we've got a crazy one on our hands here! In the following days, I would learn that she'd made the statement because she thought I was her close friend with the same first name. For me, the mistake was a windfall of good fortune.

I wasn't sure what to say, so I asked if she was coming to dance class. She said that she hadn't thought about it, but that it would make her less introspective if so. The idea of introspection reminded me that a couple of my acting classmates had said it was their reason for taking the class, so I mentioned it.

She said she loved acting, and said that we must meet for coffee sometime, since we had such similar interests. Then, she suggested that we exchange pictures. I told her my name to look me up on feycebook.

We had 3 feycebook friends in common.

We'd gone to the same college, which was no small coincidence with a mid-sized school in a large metro area. We had even been in the same graduating class. As we chatted more, we discovered that we had more things still in common, such as a love for writing.

At work the day of the class, I logged into gchat again by accident. Natalie happened to be online from work too, but had decided not to take the dance class until she had a sudden change of heart. She said she'd definitely go if I came to pick her up, and so I did.
____________________

I was off to a bit of a slow start. The only problem was that I couldn't stay present; I hadn't expected to meet my new friend so soon, and I just couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. I was still alright, though, and relaxed by the time we reached class.

There were lots of people around our age in the class, and I realized it would be easier to talk to and meet them now that I was attending with a friend. That will be a story for another post.

On the way back to her home, Natalie and I talked quite easily, and I knew I definitely liked her. She asked what I was doing tomorrow, and suggested that we meet up to practice the new dances we'd just learned.

I had already been planning to go to a new nightclub the next night, so when I got home I decided to invite Natalie. She was happy to go, and it would be the first time I'd see a new friend or date two days in a row.
____________________

This time, I was able to stay present and be myself from the start. The conversation moved along easily as we talked about her home country of Holland, music, work, and whatever else came to mind. In line at the club, it seemed like the universe was now on my side in this misison as there was another remarkable stroke of luck: our place in line was directly behind a guy I had known in college! I had seen him on the airplane to Miami, and remarkably again in South Beach. I noticed the uninhibited, fluent sound of my voice as I exclaimed, "I don't believe it!" and shook his hand before introducing him to Natalie. I told her the story as well as other things about myself that she hadn't asked. It was a major change from the times I've been inhibited, when talking about myself has always been the most difficult of tasks.

I had almost always gone to clubs by myself, so I wasn't sure if I would be able to be as wild and free when I was with someone I knew. Instead of thinking about it, I stayed present, and found that there was no problem. I danced vibrantly, sang loudly, and played with some of the other club patrons. The only difference was that I stayed with Natalie to keep her entertained instead of venturing from one spot to another in search of a dance partner. In fact, I didn't dance with any other girls, until a blonde and a brunette decided to sandwich me for a minute or so.

On the way home, I noticed that Natalie was just as relaxed and open with me as I was with her. Suddenly, I had a distinct feeling that I could ask her to hang out with me anytime, and she would be more than happy to. I started to think of all the things I like to do, but that I usually have no one to do with. Natalie just seemed so accessible, not to mention that we'd be going to dance class together every week. We'd met less than 48 hours ago, but she was already one of the one few true friends I've ever had.

Mission Miscellany

I experienced a welcome problem the last few weeks. I became so inundated with activities that I didn't have enough time to write about them. It was, in fact, the flood of social activities that I planned to create long ago. Here are the final updates for 2008.

The Office

Aside from romance and friendship, my office is the last remaining front in my war on shyness. Perhaps due to the nature of my job - spending most of the day programming at a computer - it's also the front where I've made the least progress. Sometimes, I'm semi-uninhibited, with clear, relaxed manner of speech and a conservative joke here and there. Other times, I can't get out of my shell, and am no better than when I started all of this. I've felt the most inhibition when working with the CEO of the company. That sounds pretty normal, except that he's one of the nicest, most down-to-earth and unintimidating people I've ever met. At the weekly company lunches, I generally revert to asking a few questions and a whole lot of listening to the group instead of talking about myself. There's a night-and-day difference from the now-numerous uninhibited days I've talked about, and it seems a lot harder talking in groups.

Last Thursday night was our annual company holiday party, a boat cruise around the harbor. I never had any thought of avoiding it, and decided it was about time I started putting more effort into making social progress at work.

As we waited to board, I stood at first in silence after exchanging the typical "Good, how are you?" greetings with a few people. The company lawyer was standing a couple feet away, and I remembered something about his name. I had never had a conversation with him, but now I had an impulse to give it a try. At first, inhibition stymied me, but after a minute or so, I finally went for it.

"John, your name is almost exactly the same as one of the inventors of Feycebook, isn't it?"

And that was all it took. He told me that he'd actually played racquetball with the Feycebook inventor when he was in law school. It gave me an easy opportunity for other questions and comments about his school, with open-ended ones like "How did you like it there?" extending the conversation well until it was time to get on the boat. We were interrupted by a panhandler who made a racial comment that seemed like it'd make me uncomfortable, but I simply ignored her and re-started the conversation with another good question.

John and I sat at a table together on the boat, where another coworker named Lacey asked to join us. She started a conversation by asking where I was from, and, surprisingly, it soon led to us discovering that we had something in common I'd never guessed. I was an aspiring actor, and her previous job had been as an actress; it gave us plenty to talk about.

By now, I was feeling good. The food was fantastic, the music included some of my favorite songs from SuperBar, and I was intrigued and enthused by having, after over a year, made connections with two of my coworkers. As I loosened up, I started to see glimpses of my real, uninhibited self. The most telling sign was humor. For instance, when my coworker Jackie made a sarcastic comment implying that the hip-hop music was not classy, I exclaimed that she was insulting John, because they were playing his favorite song. It was an effective joke, since John is a Harvard-educated, straight-edge lawyer.

I should have walked around to mingle with more of my coworkers and their significant others (I was one of the few single ones), but I decided to stay in my newly discovered comfort zone instead. I kept John company, refusing to let the conversation cease for too long. I asked how he'd met his fiance (I could use some ideas!), what they like to do for fun, what television shows they like, and stuff like that. I was also able to achieve the more difficult task of talking about myself by relating some of my own experiences, such as the fact that I had a sister who went to law school. I would have never guessed from seeing him around the office, but I learned that John was really just an awful lot like me - he even had odd things in common like never having tried alcohol.

One of my coworkers finally dragged me to the dance floor, and it was a perfect litmus test of my inhibition. I was able to dance a little, and even warmed up to the point of doing a couple of good moves. Still, though, it was nothing resembling the spectacular displays I've put on at SuperBar.

Nonetheless, I'd made some connections and loosened up. It was a lot of progress for one night.

The next day, I conducted an interview of a potential new employee along with my manager, a coworker, and the aforementioned company CEO. My thoughts and voice came out sounding perfectly confident and relaxed instead of the usual tentative and mangled I usually experience when the CEO is around.

At the end of the day, my manager completed my annual review. I got the feeling that the coincidentally-scheduled interview I'd helped conduct earlier had made a good impression, because he pointed out that I was "well-spoken" and gave me a perfect 5/5 for the Communication criterion of the review. He even suggested that I start speaking at conferences.

Until last week, I'd been having thoughts of changing companies. The odd thing is that my job itself was perfect. The only issue was that I was concerned that since I started working there at the beginning of the mission, maybe I'd never be able to completely shake the inhibition that plagued me there. I've only mentioned it in passing so far, but my experience has been that it's extremely difficult to start acting a much different way around people who know you for being shy. It's as if the fact that they expect me to be shy makes me extremely self-conscious about being uninhibited, thereby preventing me from changing. I care more about the mission than about any job, so I was willing to move on for no other reason to get a fresh start, taking the uninhibited nature I've developed during the mission into my initial interview and maintaining it forever after.

It'll take some work, but it now looks like that won't be necessary.

SuperBar

Back before the mission, I lived on a university campus and went to college, followed by grad school. There was only a handful of female computer science majors, and one of them was named Tracy. The first time I saw her was in a computer graphics class. I sat in the front row, and looked back towards the door one day. Whoa! I was surprised to see a female classmate, and even more surprised to see how attractive she was.

Of course, I immediately became interested in her. And of course, it didn't matter because, before the mission, I was light years away from being able to make any sort of progress with a girl I liked.

She ended up dropping the class, but we had another together the next year. This time, I actually did manage to have a few short conversations with her, but did so without any romantic intentions. We became friends on Feycebook. We were both graduating at the end of the semester, so it would be our only connection.

Over the summer, I happened to see Tracy with her boyfriend while at a restaurant on my birthday. It was only a couple of months into the mission, and I didn't stop her to get her attention as she passed by me and my family in the waiting area.

Later that summer, I was walking with my parents to a movie at the mall. I happened to turn around, and who did I see? Tracy and her boyfriend! Again, I didn't stop them to get their attention.

Another day that summer, I was hanging out with Amorita for the third or fourth time at Dave & Busters. We were chatting when a couple started to walk towards us. Lo and behold, it was Tracy and her boyfriend! We live in a large metropolitan area, so these were no small coincidences. After each of the last two Tracy sightings, I kicked myself for not speaking to her. I was on a social turnaround mission, so it was absurd for me to miss out on an opportunity like that. Now, it seemed as if we had been crossing paths by fate, so there was no way I was going to make the same mistake a third time.

Amorita was in the middle of a story, but I had to turn and interrupt her.

"Hey Tracy!"

She introduced the boyfriend, and I introduced Amorita. We caught up about jobs and school for a couple of minutes, and that was it. I was finally satisfied, and posted a message on her Feycebook wall later. I'd thought about asking her to hang out sometime - or something like that - but months passed, and the momentum was gone.

I had run into a couple of people from school here and there since graduation, but never bumped into anyone more than once. Amazingly, though, I saw Tracy and her boyfriend at the mall again one day, and just exclaimed "Hey!" and smiled when I went by.

More months passed. In the interim, I learned through Feycebook that Tracy was no longer in a relationship.

On Saturday, I pondered whether or not I should go to SuperBar. I didn't feel like going out, but I couldn't help but recall the fact that I went anyway a few times when I'd felt similarly, only to end up having some of the best nights of my life. It was if there were something special about the place. When I was at SuperBar, good things were bound to happen.

Now, SuperBar isn't even in the same state as all of the places I'd seen Tracy. Yet, who did I see Saturday night?

Tracy.

I was decked out in one of my flashy designer shirts with sunglasses. I walked over, placing my hand gently on her back.

"Hey, what's up?"

She didn't respond for a moment.

"Tracy, right?"

"No...."

I was perplexed for a moment, because I was 99% sure it was her.

She said, "You're good!".

She thought that I was just a guy hitting on her.

"You don't recognize me?"

She didn't. She said that she didn't recognize me with the sunglasses, so I took them off.

"Nothing?!??!" I exclaimed, half-kidding. I put up four fingers, and asked, "Four years, and nothing?!"

The most striking thing was that, for the first time, I was my new, fun, uninhibited self with someone from my pre-mission past.

My choice of words gave her the clue that she knew me from school. After another moment or two, she remembered, and grabbed me tight. I asked if she'd been to SuperBar before, and she asked where my friends were. She then told me that she'd moved and started working for the government. We continued talking over the music for a couple minutes, until she said it was good to see me and that she would e-mail me on Feycebook. She then gave me another great, big hug, and headed out with her friend.

Naturally, I started to wonder about the hug. I don't think anyone has ever hugged me that tightly! I vaguely remembered getting the idea that she might have been interested back when we were in school. If so, how could she not be interested now that I was one of the coolest looking guys in the club, not to mention having shed the braces I wore the year that I knew her? Ha...

She e-mailed me the next day, remarking on the amazing fact that we'd run into each other five times, asking how work was going for me, and suggesting that we bumpinto each other intentionally the next time. Her second e-mail was much longer, and that's where it stands. I've since realized that we have a lot in common, and she would be a great friend for me. If anything, I should probaby swear off any romantic ideas about her so as not to jeopordize friendship.

The next week, I went back to SuperBar with one goal: I wanted to deliver a gift to Danny, the bouncer I wrote about in the Lab Notes, who has let me skip the line every night for the last month. I gave him a $50 gift card to the Cheescake Factory for Christmas. Now, he'll remember my name, and I have no doubt that I'll be able to skip the line at one of the hottest clubs in town whenever he's working. Amazingly, it's a very real step toward gaining popularity.

Dates #46 and #47

For my forty-sixth date, I met up for the first time with another girl from eHarmony. I was especially optimistic about it, because she had been one of a small number of people I'd made a real connection with online. (If you're wondering, my idea of a "connection" is being able to talk about nothing in particular, rather than discussing topics like where you're from, your favorite this and that, etc.)

We learned through e-mail that we were both super competitive, so instead of the usual Starbucks date, I propose that we meet up at a Billiards hall in the city. I'd learned from one of my platonic meetings that it was best to get a table and talk a bit before trying to have a conversation while playing pool, so we ordered appetizers and talked. We talked, and I was that awesome, uninhibited version of myself. We seemed to have the same connection as online, and the conversation moved along easily. I stumbled with my words only once or twice, and brushed it off realizing that no one's perfect - at least not all of the time. After a couple of hours or so, the place closed down early, without us having a chance to play that game of pool.

This time, I knew exactly where I'd parked, and drove her home. When I dropped her off, she thanked me and asked, "You have my number, right?" She then answered her own question, undoubtedly realizing that we'd texted each other only hours before. She then said, "We'll get together again soon," only to follow up with a nervous "Right?" a moment later. I responded affirmatively, and she told me she'd be leaving town for Christmas on Tuesday.

It couldn't have been more clear how she felt about me. The little exchange made me ponder why I ever put myself through wondering about how my dates have gone. Won't every girl who is really interested make it this clear?

For only the second time ever, I waited only two days before calling to ask for another date. She happily accepted, and we planned to play laser tag during the weekend.

And so came Date #47.

Somehow, I didn't feel quite as awesome once she was back in the car with me, only six days later. There was a bit of the dreaded voice thing, and topics of conversation didn't come to me as effortlessly as before. When we reached the laser tag place I tried to regroup, intentionally projecting my voice the way I strategized back in the days before the Death of Inhibition. It seemed to help, but I'd had better days nonetheless.

There were only two kids to play laser tag with us. My date seemed to have fun, for the most part, but she definitely didn't have the same reaction as the girl I took almost a year ago, who ended up being the closest anyone has ever come to being my girlfriend. When I asked whether my new date wanted to play a second game or go eat dinner, it was obvious she'd already had enough laser tag.

My GPS confused me, and it took a while for me to find the restaurant. In the meantime, I felt somewhat stiff again. I was somewhere between my worst and my best, but closer to the latter. I felt better once in the restaurant, and was able to start joking around with the waiter and my date. I was relaxed, and the conversation was pretty good.

It pains me to write this recap. Ordinarily, I can recall a fairly good description, but this time is different. It's different because I suffered the agony of disappointment before recounting the story.

I became a little nervous during the ride back to her apartment - just enough to stumble on a single word. I parked so that I could walk her to the door. I wanted to kiss her goodnight.

She thanked me for dinner, and then hugged me rather loosely before she finished talking. I could tell there was something going on. She then immediately and needlessly turned her head away so that all I could see was her shoulder-length hair. She said "Call me," and I responded, with unintentional enthusiasm, "Alright. I'll call you when you get back." She said, "sounds good."

Her final words had been flat. They were completely devoid of emotion.

It couldn't have been more obvious that she was avoiding my kiss. She had, in fact, made it all but impossible for me to kiss her; it was as bad - perhaps even worse - than if I had tried to kiss her, only for her to turn a cheek.

Running in Place

I felt miserable on the way home. Her utterance of "Call me" meant nothing. She would simply be another girl I'd spent close to $100 on only to never see again. How did she lose interest so quickly? Was it because I passed the restaurant a few times while following my GPS? Was it because I called her after only two days? The date itself had seemed to go reasonably well, though admittedly I wasn't as comfortable as on the first. Did it really make that much of a difference? When I got home, I pondered these and other questions. After 10 minutes or so, I decided to stop torturing myself.

I deleted her number from my phone.

By now, I was a little depressed. The other girl I connected with from Date #42 simply never returned my phone call - presumably because of very minor mishaps during our date. Shantelle of Date #44 happily accepted a second date, but I never saw her again. She ended up being a total flake, leaving a message the afternoon before our would-be outing, implying that it was my fault she was breaking the date because I hadn't called to talk to her for a few days (What a nut!). Everything was starting to get discouraging. And expensive.

That said, I felt better after a few days. Nick's comment after date #42 gave me some much-needed perspective. If these women lose interest after experiencing a little bit of imperfection, they're the ones with problems. And none of them are supermodels! I can do better. It's getting tiresome (and expensive), but one day it will all be worth it.

Lover

I went to a popular nightclub with my pre-mission best friend and his girlfriend to ring in the new year. It'd been a long time since we'd hung out in that setting, and he had never seen the new, uninhibited, life-of-the-party me.

I was anxious at first, both because of unrelated distractions and the fact that I hadn't gotten any real action on the dance floor in weeks. I soon silenced the inner voice of inhibition, and felt good after dancing with an attactive girl. By midnight, I was back to constantly daring and winning with gorgeous women left and right. Undoubtedly because of the holiday excitement, it was some of the most wild bumping and grinding I've ever done.

At about 12:30, I spotted another sexy girl on the dance floor and danced my way over. Another cool-looking guy seemed to ask her to dance and be rejected. Still, though, I had warmed up completely, and didn't care. I had nothing to lose, so I moved behind her, allowing her to take a glance to see what I looked like. She started dancing with her.

She was the hottest girl I'd danced with since Miami. As she moved sensuously to the music, I couldn't believe how amazing her body was as I placed my hands around her.

We were together 5 or 10 minutes, until a tall, well-dressed guy who looked like he could be a gangster came over and said something to her. I stopped dancing while waiting for her to finish speaking to him. At first, I couldn't tell whether he was upset about something, or if he was just kidding with her.

A moment later, it was clear. The guy was in my face, yelling something. With expletives removed, I soon realized he was saying something like "I'll knock you out!"

I apologized in every way I could think. "My bad. I'm sorry. I didn't know. I had no idea." I even threw in the American Sign Language sign for "I'm sorry."

Apparently, it wasn't enough. He was still in my face, and he bit me. Yes....he bit me! Right on the cheek. It didn't break the skin, but I can still feel it.

I backed up slowly as I continued my apology, and the not-so-gentle man continued his angry tirade.

I had been completley focused on my opponent. Now, I caught a glimpse of my friend walking toward me. I then realized that a huge circle had opened up around us in the overcrowded dance floor; people were both watching and trying to get out of the way of the fight.

Finally, he backed off.

As I walked away with my friends before the situation could escalate any further, I had a striking realization. I had been threatened by a total thug (he bit me!), and yet I'd felt absolutely no fear. No anxiety. There was no "fight or flight" reaction, even though if there had ever been a time to fight or flee, that was it. I focused on my opponent so that I could deal with him appropriately - I would have taken him down, if it had gone that far - but I did so without feeling fear.

I'm no jujitsu master, so it's fascinating that I could deal with a situation like that without anxiety. My question to you is this: Given my composure when facing bodily harm, does it make sense that I am nearly overwhelmed with anxiety when preparing to merely ask a girl on a date?

Mission Mania: Date #45

The evening of my forty-fifth date marked a landmark occasion, since it was the first time I'd gone out with someone I didn't meet online. I had called Bina - the woman who surprisingly made the first move at SuperBar - and asked her to meet me for coffee. I felt and sounded great on the phone with her, and asked for the date after only a few minutes of conversation. The fact that she was the pursuer had inevitably given me complete confidence, and it showed.

She texted me shortly before we planned to meet, asking if we could go someplace with food instead. I agreed, and we decided to go to T.G.I. Friday's.

The dynamic intrigued me. The only things I knew about her were those which I could ascertain from a few minutes at SuperBar and a few more on the phone. There was no eHarmony profile giving me a snapshot of her life. There were no e-mails to review for potential conversation topics. It was also different in that there would be no defining moment at which we'd be meeting for the first time after such conversations; that was already done.

I felt no anxiety.

We sat and talked, and I felt completely confident and relaxed throughout the conversation. I had a few obvious topics in mind (for example, SuperBar, siblings, television, and school since she'd been studying when I called), but it was easy to think of things to say anyway. We'd met the traditional way, but it was no different than the dates with my online dating site matches.

I wasn't sure how interested I was. I felt some physical attraction, but as we chatted, I became more and more aware of one issue that never occurs with online dating. That is, when she mentioned things like being at the same company 9 years and, well, cassette tapes......it was obvious that she was significantly older than I. I couldn't help but wonder how much older. When the waitress asked Bina for ID when she ordered an alcoholic drink, Bina laughed, blushed, and thanked her for doing so, all as if it were a ridiculous thing to do.

She has at least 35 years to my 25.

I usually hit a wall and clam up when I'm not interested, but that didn't happen on this date. I'd started out with a steady, relaxed supply of lighthearted humor, and there was no turning back. Things were clearly going well: when there was a break in the conversation, Bina broke the silence by asking, with a vocal tone and facial expression of slight worry, "Are you having a good time?"

I told her I was, but I felt a little sad hearing the question. I knew what it was like to be rejected, and I didn't want her to experience the feelings I've come to know all too well.

We were together over two hours until I said I'd better get ready for my office party the next day. As we stood up, she said she hoped I'd had a good time. I saw her lean, attractive body, and thought that at least maybe there was a chance. I walked her to her car, and she said she'd had fun. I said "me too" and told her I'd talk to her later.

Remaining the pursuer, she called me three dates later. I returned the missed call, but she didn't seem to have anything she particularly wanted to say. I could sense her anxiously sitting on the other end, waiting to see whether or not I'd deliver the dreaded Friends Speech.

Although it'd be interesting, I did no such thing. Instead, I asked her a couple questions, made a comment or two, and said maybe we'd do something when she returns from holiday travel. After that, I simply got off the phone. She sent me a text Christmas afternoon, and that's where it stands.