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.