After my landmark breakthrough against inhibition last July, a lull in the action started to materialize. For two weeks, I had neither dates nor friends to hang out with. Determined to continue making progress, I racked my brain, trying to come up with a social activity.
And come up with a social activity, I did.
I decided to go to a nightclub. Looking back at that night, I'm astonished. At the time, my apprehension about the plan was akin to an acrophobic's anxiety about skydiving: for years, it had been nearly unthinkable. Still, though, I was pleased with my success in overcoming inhibition on even the first night. While that success was remarkable at the time, I had no idea that it would soon become laughable compared to the progress I'd make on subsequent nights. I visited nightclub after nightclub in the coming months, very rarely missing a weekend, and often going out two nights in a row. I grew less and less inhibited, soon becoming a spectacle on the dance floor as I developed skills through lessons and sheer practice.
It was soon apparent that the club scene was more than just another piece to the puzzle: it was the centerpiece. Now that I could consistently find hundreds of other people my age in a fun environment, other social opportunities paled in comparison. Not only that, but no activity gave me a better chance to act in a freer, more uninhibited manner than in dancing to hip-hop, house, and trance music. And above all, it was fun. Night after night, I had more fun than I'd once thought possible. For me - perhaps since I missed out almost entirely on social activities for most of my life - clubbing is an activity that just never gets old; the fiftieth time was at least just as fun as the first.
As spectacularly as I had shattered any conceivable perception of me being shy, I realized in the past month or so that there was still one big area in which I could improve: talking to people. My fun, inhibited dance skills had entertained countless people - some of whom I talked to, and a few who I gave Feycebook cards - but aside from my one date-turned-friend, nothing had stuck. Now that I'd made good on my goal of abandoning online dating, the nightclub would be one of my only avenues for finding dates. And so, I decided to start by making an effort to merely speak to many more people.
________________
I started by speaking to people who were in line with me. Since it is always difficult to hear over the loud music inside, talking outside in line afforded a better opportunity to start getting to know someone. At the same time, it was less comfortable, leaving me feeling exposed with nowhere to escape if for some reason I wanted to. But of course, I did it anyway.
In general, I got in the habit of saying whatever came to mind when someone was standing near me. Sometimes it led to only a brief exchange, but other times, the effects were much more powerful. For instance, at one new club, I commented to the two ladies in front of me that the staff was making us wait even though there was no one actually inside. We chatted casually about nightclubs while we waited, and I learned that the more attractive lady was from the same suburb as me. She told the host that I was her +1 on the guest list, and we separated inside.
That began an interesting night. I sat alone on a sofa in the sparsely populated new club, until the ladies from outside came over to chat with me. When they announced they were leaving, I got the feeling that they were in no hurry; it was clearly an excuse to talk to me again. I said it was way too early to leave, and they took a seat on the sofa with me.
As the more attractive woman sat close to me, I noticed how amazingly low-cut her blouse was. She seemed seductive as we chatted, and her intent was soon verified by her friend, who blurted out, "Would you ever [have sex with] a married woman?"
I looked down and saw the ring. I remarked that I usually didn't have to check for that at nightclubs. She continued to flirt with me, saying that I was cute. I quickly responded in a playful, arrogant way, "I know." When she eventually asked me to dance with her, I led her to the dance floor, with no hope of hiding my attraction as we did the bump and grind.
When she got ready to leave, I told her I'd see her around, but that I'd play it cool if I saw her with her husband. She asked if I would like to call her sometime. I told her no, citing the fact that her friend had said earlier that the husband is a police officer. Besides, I would dance, but I wasn't willing to have an affair with a married woman. Still, I realized that the exchange had - in some sense - made me a virgin by choice.
After the ladies left, I got back to my usual antics, putting on a show on the dance floor. I was uninhibited in both dance and conversation, and spent much of the rest of the night talking to a girl who I became very interested in. I'll skip that story - one of very many since - because it ended with me giving her a Feycebook card and never hearing from her again.
________________
At some point, I realized that it shouldn't be difficult to find dates at nightclubs. On any given night, I danced the most sexual of dances with several girls, sometimes escalating the physical contact beyond just dancing. Plenty of girls were obviously attracted to me, so what was stopping them from going on dates with me? I simply had to talk to them.
I verified my suspicion early on. After one girl asked me to dance, I simply asked her name after we'd been together for a few minutes. Providing the requisite return signal of interest (or, at least politeness), she asked mine in return. I then asked where she was from, and we had a light conversation about clubbing, regional weather, her friends, and similar topics over the loud music. I put on some of my fun dance moves when the music changed appropriately, and she was obviously very happy to be dancing with me. She was so happy, in fact, that she couldn't stop smiling, repeatedly wiping the overflowing sweat from my face with her bare hands.
I asked if she was on Feycebook and gave her one of my cards, but she then said she didn't use it much. When I tried to take the card back, she pouted, gripping it tighter. I told her I'd get her phone number instead. She said she'd be back in town for her friends' wedding in May, and asked if she would see me then. Of course she would! She smiled happily and gave me a kiss on the cheek before she left.
________________
One Friday night before that, I couldn't quite decide which nightclub I wanted to attend. Finally, I decided to flip a coin, and abide by whatever fate it suggested.
The quarter sent me to one of the nation's largest superclubs. Once inside, I immediately realized that it was an ethnically homogeneous club; I had much preferred the great diversity of SuperBar and the other club that lost the coin flip. No one was dancing, and the women seemed stuck up even from their manner of dress. I started to lament getting heads instead of tails: to waste a perfectly good night on a bad club was a terrible thing.
As I stood motionless by the wall in pathetic contrast to my activity at SuperBar, a guy came by and asked what was in the room behind us. I asked if it was his first time at the club, and he said no. Apparently, the purpose of his question was not to gain knowledge, but to actually just make conversation with me! We talked about other clubs, and I told him how deserted the new club I'd tried last week had been. He stopped to speak to some of the pretty girls who were passing by, and asked one of them if she had heard of the new club I told him about. She was extremely rude, ignoring him with a scolding expression. We both laughed, and remarked at how stuckup the girls were at this particular club.
I could tell that Ryan was like me. Somehow, it was obvious to me that he was intelligent and educated. Sure enough, I found out that he was an engineer, just like me. Coincidentally, he also lived in the same town, and was also house hunting. As we continued chatting, I told him I had a new trick for picking up ladies - the Feycebook card. I showed him one, and he said it was nice, and he'd have to look into getting one made. When he handed it back to me, I told him to keep it. Ryan and I hung out the rest of the night, searching for ladies to dance with. I told him he should come to SuperBar with me sometime, and the next morning I saw that he had added me on Feycebook. We exchanged numbers, and 19 months into the mission, I had made my first male friend.
It was only possible because I got heads instead of tails.
________________
On another Friday night, I decided to try a different nightclub I'd heard about. As usual, I went alone. When I saw that I had arrived early - there was no line at the club - I paced the city, looking for someone to talk to.
I didn't find anyone. Eventually, I walked back to the club and got in line.
I thought about talking to the girls in front of me. I had little motivation, because I didn't find them attractive. Then, a pretty girl got in line alone behind me. I thought for a moment or two, then asked an obvious question.
"Is this place any good?"
She said she hadn't been in a while, but it had been the last time she came. I asked where she was from, and amazingly, she was from the same suburb as me. With a surprised tone in my voice - a subtle sign that I was in an uninhibited state - I told her that I had been meeting a lot of people from our suburb lately. She joked that there wasn't exactly much to do where we lived, and I noticed how pretty her smile was.
Her name was Rayna. We talked for a few minutes more while waiting in line. With a little common ground established, it was easy. She told me where she went to high school, and I half-jokingly bragged about how much better my school is at both academics and sports. When I asked if she'd come alone, I learned that she was meeting friends inside. She then said that she was just coming out casually, and emphasized it again while pointing out her jeans and shirt, saying it was "real casual." At that moment, it was obvious that she cared about my opinion of her; she was interested in me.
On the inside, I made a couple comments about the music, then told Rayna I was going off to dance.
I was dancing freely and having a good time, but held off on approaching any other women. Amazingly, I recognized a beautiful girl - without exaggeration, the prettiest in the building - who I'd gone to college with over 3 years ago. I remembered that she had been just as sweet as she was pretty. It was an observation I'd made from afar, since in my pre-mission days I was virtually unable to even speak to her. Now, though, things were different.
Much different.
Immediately, I stopped her and exclaimed, "Don't I know you?" She said maybe, and that I looked familiar. I asked if we'd gone to school together, and finished her sentence when she started to name our alma mater. She asked what my name was "again" (although she'd never actually known it), and I said it was good to see her. It was a brief conversation, but I found it remarkable to feel like my new, fun, relaxed, uninhibited self with someone from my shyness-laden past.
I returned to dancing. I saw that Rayna had made her way to the dance floor with her friends, and decided to go dance with her. I made the perpetual mistake of hesitating, and a minute later, another guy had beaten me to it.
My opponent was taller and bigger than me, but less stylish and athletic. Feeling the full power of my newly-developed confidence, I knew that he had no chance with Rayna as long as I was around. I ignored the two, going back to some solo dance moves I'd learned in a class.
An hour later or so, I decided to look for Rayna again, hoping that she'd separated from my opponent. I was headed downstairs to watch the basketball game, and was determined to get Rayna's phone number. Fueled by confidence, I had resolved to do so even if my opponent were still with her. After all, I had met her first.
The scene would be less dramatic, as I found Rayna waiting for a drink alone at the bar. Without further thought, I handled the situation in the manner I'd thought days earlier. It had seemed brilliant, and it was time to put it to the test.
"Hey, give me your number in case I don't see you again."
She asked if I was leaving, and I explained that I was going downstairs to watch the basketball game. Then, I took out my phone, added her name, and handed it to her to enter her phone number.
Just that easily, I had finally completed my first pickup (that is, the first with me as the initiator) at 25 1/2 years old.
________________
After getting Rayna's phone number, there was no stopping me. I realized that I was experiencing the same principle as with so many other aspects of the mission. After managing to accomplish something seemingly impossible just once, it immediately seemed easy thereafter. I merely had to break the seal, proving that I could do it; dating had been a prime example. Going on a date seemed impossible before the first time, but after that, I was easily able to go on 53 more. Now, if only I could get 53 more phone numbers....
Another Friday night, Ryan invited me out with his friends. It was amazingly fun hanging out with him. He was even more uninhibited than I was (in fairness, he was drinking), stopping passing girls by taking their hand, and delivering lines like "You look real sexy tonight." Apparently his confidence worked well with the ladies, as many of them responded positively, complimenting both of us.
When Ryan had to leave with his friends, I finally took to the dance floor. This time, I was on a small bar dance floor with only a few people dancing at the end of the night. There was a cute blonde dancing, but I was initially reluctant to approach her - one of the few small signs of inhibition remaining to be destroyed.
When the DJ announced that the next song would be the last of the night, I just went for it. She was enthusiastic, and I realized that she'd probably been waiting for me to make a move since she saw me. When the music stopped, I threw up my hands and said, "It's only like 2:30!" I asked if she came to the area a lot, which seemed less cliche when I added that it was my first time. We talked for a couple minutes, and the conversation was light and fun, with me saying that her not having a car was good for the environment, and her telling me about having gone green. She then introduced her friend to me, and asked my name. With that obvious sign of interest, I wasted no time.
"Hey, give me your number in case I don't see you again."
It was a simple, confident, beautiful line that would be appropriate in almost any situation.
"Oh yeah, I'd probably never see you again otherwise since you live so far away."
I'd already started typing her name, Maureen, into my phone. She said I was a good speller, and before I knew it, we were reminiscing about the mutual experience of having failed on the first word in the spelling bee in elementary school. She had her arms on my shoulders, saying her heels were making her feet hurt - that also turned into friendly banter. It was the most fun I'd ever had talking to someone on a dance floor.
The next night, I delivered my line to a girl at a nightclub after little more than some fun bumping and grinding. Again, I added another girl's number to my phone.
The seal had been broken, and it was now easy. The next week, I decided to try to build on my progress even further. Ryan's friendliness and success with talking to so many people while we were out inspired me to return to my Talk To People Everywhere resolution for the New Year. I simply said anything and everything that came to mind at the next club. It was the simple, yet critical principle I'd learned in dating conversation: you have to share your thoughts with others. I found myself stopping a guy to tell him that he looked like my favorite basketball player; he shook my hand, and gave me a chest bump, saying he wished he could make money like that guy. I spotted a girl checking me out, and told her that she had a nice-looking group of friends - again, they looked intelligent, and like they'd be my group of friends, if I had one (they turned out to be doctors). I spoke to more people than I could possibly hope to remember, even telling the club photographer, "You're the most beautiful photographer I've ever seen!" Some people were friendly and others were not, but most importantly, it was a great exercise that helped me whittle away at some of the last remaining bits of inhibition.
________________
Ironically, my endless enjoyment of nightclubs has been one of the main reasons for the lull in this blog; to quantify, clubbing has taken up about 10 hours per week (a part-time job!). My weekend nights have been providing me with more stories than I could possibly hope to write about, but one more worth mentioning is that of Kelly.
As a change from SuperBar, I decided to try one of the city's super clubs one Saturday night. I arrived early, taking a spot near the wall on the dance floor before anyone else started dancing. I soon found myself moving more and more to the music, until I was but the lone dancer with about a dozen onlookers standing around. I was comfortable in the situation, knowing that I was more uninhibited than the others. After all, it was a dance floor, not a stand around sipping a drink floor.
Eventually, I took a walk around while waiting for things to pick up. When I returned, I found two girls dancing with only one guy. Without hesitation, I approached the lone girl and danced with her. She and her friend had stood nearby earlier when I was dancing alone, so they'd already had a chance to decide if they were interested.
And interested, she was. When I started my new water-testing routine of seeing how she responded when I asked her name, she asked mine. She then asked where I was from, and what I did for a living. We talked while we danced, managing to have a normal conversation over the music as I learned that she was a 21-year-old English major, that her best friend attends my alma mater, and the like. With her obvious interest in more than just dancing with me, I was as confident as ever. When her friend went to the bathroom to get away from her dance partner, I joked to Kelly, "They can't all be like me!" As we continued dancing, I escalated the physical contact, holding her hand while sensually kissing her back and neck from time to time.
After about an hour, Kelly said that she and her friend were going to take a break, and invited me to come with them. We went to the house music floor, where I easily entertained the pair with some of my fun, uninhibited dance moves. When I mentioned that I'd never tried alcohol, Kelly's friend marveled in disbelief. She went down the list, asking if I'd ever tried marijuana, or smoked a cigarette, or....had sex. I started to fib to save face on the last question, but remembered that honesty is one of the pillars of successful conversation and relationships. I humorously told her that I couldn't say, because a gentleman never kisses and tells.
When Kelly went to the restroom, I was alone with the friend, who was remarkably beautiful. I found out that her name was Molly, and that she'd gotten pregnant at 17 by her high school sweetheart, and so attended college online. As we talked more, I was struck by how down-to-earth she was in spite of such rare, flawless beauty. When Kelly returned, I teased Molly about liking the electronic music, and we returned to the hip-hop dance floor.
I was having a great time with my new friends. Molly had decided not to dance with anymore guys, so we constantly shifted positions as one guy after another comically tried to dance with her. Meanhwile, I held Kelly in my arms throughout the night. As we pressed our faces together, with me kissing her cheek from the side, Molly couldn't hold back a smile at the sight of the apparently-cute couple we made.
About 15 minutes before closing, we decided to leave. Kelly's friend had lost her cell phone (an event that had provided some good fodder for my jokes), so I put Molly's number in my phone. Kelly sent me a text to make sure the numbers were in correctly, and even got my full name just in case. They waited for me to get my coat, and finally, we could talk without yelling over the music once we were outside.
I walked Kelly and Molly to their car, and they insisted on driving me to mine over in the next parking. After four hours, it had been the most time I'd ever spent with someone at a club. As I began to finally end our conversation and get out of the car, Kelly said happily, "I had a really good time."
________________
The end draws nearer.
And come up with a social activity, I did.
I decided to go to a nightclub. Looking back at that night, I'm astonished. At the time, my apprehension about the plan was akin to an acrophobic's anxiety about skydiving: for years, it had been nearly unthinkable. Still, though, I was pleased with my success in overcoming inhibition on even the first night. While that success was remarkable at the time, I had no idea that it would soon become laughable compared to the progress I'd make on subsequent nights. I visited nightclub after nightclub in the coming months, very rarely missing a weekend, and often going out two nights in a row. I grew less and less inhibited, soon becoming a spectacle on the dance floor as I developed skills through lessons and sheer practice.
It was soon apparent that the club scene was more than just another piece to the puzzle: it was the centerpiece. Now that I could consistently find hundreds of other people my age in a fun environment, other social opportunities paled in comparison. Not only that, but no activity gave me a better chance to act in a freer, more uninhibited manner than in dancing to hip-hop, house, and trance music. And above all, it was fun. Night after night, I had more fun than I'd once thought possible. For me - perhaps since I missed out almost entirely on social activities for most of my life - clubbing is an activity that just never gets old; the fiftieth time was at least just as fun as the first.
As spectacularly as I had shattered any conceivable perception of me being shy, I realized in the past month or so that there was still one big area in which I could improve: talking to people. My fun, inhibited dance skills had entertained countless people - some of whom I talked to, and a few who I gave Feycebook cards - but aside from my one date-turned-friend, nothing had stuck. Now that I'd made good on my goal of abandoning online dating, the nightclub would be one of my only avenues for finding dates. And so, I decided to start by making an effort to merely speak to many more people.
________________
I started by speaking to people who were in line with me. Since it is always difficult to hear over the loud music inside, talking outside in line afforded a better opportunity to start getting to know someone. At the same time, it was less comfortable, leaving me feeling exposed with nowhere to escape if for some reason I wanted to. But of course, I did it anyway.
In general, I got in the habit of saying whatever came to mind when someone was standing near me. Sometimes it led to only a brief exchange, but other times, the effects were much more powerful. For instance, at one new club, I commented to the two ladies in front of me that the staff was making us wait even though there was no one actually inside. We chatted casually about nightclubs while we waited, and I learned that the more attractive lady was from the same suburb as me. She told the host that I was her +1 on the guest list, and we separated inside.
That began an interesting night. I sat alone on a sofa in the sparsely populated new club, until the ladies from outside came over to chat with me. When they announced they were leaving, I got the feeling that they were in no hurry; it was clearly an excuse to talk to me again. I said it was way too early to leave, and they took a seat on the sofa with me.
As the more attractive woman sat close to me, I noticed how amazingly low-cut her blouse was. She seemed seductive as we chatted, and her intent was soon verified by her friend, who blurted out, "Would you ever [have sex with] a married woman?"
I looked down and saw the ring. I remarked that I usually didn't have to check for that at nightclubs. She continued to flirt with me, saying that I was cute. I quickly responded in a playful, arrogant way, "I know." When she eventually asked me to dance with her, I led her to the dance floor, with no hope of hiding my attraction as we did the bump and grind.
When she got ready to leave, I told her I'd see her around, but that I'd play it cool if I saw her with her husband. She asked if I would like to call her sometime. I told her no, citing the fact that her friend had said earlier that the husband is a police officer. Besides, I would dance, but I wasn't willing to have an affair with a married woman. Still, I realized that the exchange had - in some sense - made me a virgin by choice.
After the ladies left, I got back to my usual antics, putting on a show on the dance floor. I was uninhibited in both dance and conversation, and spent much of the rest of the night talking to a girl who I became very interested in. I'll skip that story - one of very many since - because it ended with me giving her a Feycebook card and never hearing from her again.
________________
At some point, I realized that it shouldn't be difficult to find dates at nightclubs. On any given night, I danced the most sexual of dances with several girls, sometimes escalating the physical contact beyond just dancing. Plenty of girls were obviously attracted to me, so what was stopping them from going on dates with me? I simply had to talk to them.
I verified my suspicion early on. After one girl asked me to dance, I simply asked her name after we'd been together for a few minutes. Providing the requisite return signal of interest (or, at least politeness), she asked mine in return. I then asked where she was from, and we had a light conversation about clubbing, regional weather, her friends, and similar topics over the loud music. I put on some of my fun dance moves when the music changed appropriately, and she was obviously very happy to be dancing with me. She was so happy, in fact, that she couldn't stop smiling, repeatedly wiping the overflowing sweat from my face with her bare hands.
I asked if she was on Feycebook and gave her one of my cards, but she then said she didn't use it much. When I tried to take the card back, she pouted, gripping it tighter. I told her I'd get her phone number instead. She said she'd be back in town for her friends' wedding in May, and asked if she would see me then. Of course she would! She smiled happily and gave me a kiss on the cheek before she left.
________________
One Friday night before that, I couldn't quite decide which nightclub I wanted to attend. Finally, I decided to flip a coin, and abide by whatever fate it suggested.
The quarter sent me to one of the nation's largest superclubs. Once inside, I immediately realized that it was an ethnically homogeneous club; I had much preferred the great diversity of SuperBar and the other club that lost the coin flip. No one was dancing, and the women seemed stuck up even from their manner of dress. I started to lament getting heads instead of tails: to waste a perfectly good night on a bad club was a terrible thing.
As I stood motionless by the wall in pathetic contrast to my activity at SuperBar, a guy came by and asked what was in the room behind us. I asked if it was his first time at the club, and he said no. Apparently, the purpose of his question was not to gain knowledge, but to actually just make conversation with me! We talked about other clubs, and I told him how deserted the new club I'd tried last week had been. He stopped to speak to some of the pretty girls who were passing by, and asked one of them if she had heard of the new club I told him about. She was extremely rude, ignoring him with a scolding expression. We both laughed, and remarked at how stuckup the girls were at this particular club.
I could tell that Ryan was like me. Somehow, it was obvious to me that he was intelligent and educated. Sure enough, I found out that he was an engineer, just like me. Coincidentally, he also lived in the same town, and was also house hunting. As we continued chatting, I told him I had a new trick for picking up ladies - the Feycebook card. I showed him one, and he said it was nice, and he'd have to look into getting one made. When he handed it back to me, I told him to keep it. Ryan and I hung out the rest of the night, searching for ladies to dance with. I told him he should come to SuperBar with me sometime, and the next morning I saw that he had added me on Feycebook. We exchanged numbers, and 19 months into the mission, I had made my first male friend.
It was only possible because I got heads instead of tails.
________________
On another Friday night, I decided to try a different nightclub I'd heard about. As usual, I went alone. When I saw that I had arrived early - there was no line at the club - I paced the city, looking for someone to talk to.
I didn't find anyone. Eventually, I walked back to the club and got in line.
I thought about talking to the girls in front of me. I had little motivation, because I didn't find them attractive. Then, a pretty girl got in line alone behind me. I thought for a moment or two, then asked an obvious question.
"Is this place any good?"
She said she hadn't been in a while, but it had been the last time she came. I asked where she was from, and amazingly, she was from the same suburb as me. With a surprised tone in my voice - a subtle sign that I was in an uninhibited state - I told her that I had been meeting a lot of people from our suburb lately. She joked that there wasn't exactly much to do where we lived, and I noticed how pretty her smile was.
Her name was Rayna. We talked for a few minutes more while waiting in line. With a little common ground established, it was easy. She told me where she went to high school, and I half-jokingly bragged about how much better my school is at both academics and sports. When I asked if she'd come alone, I learned that she was meeting friends inside. She then said that she was just coming out casually, and emphasized it again while pointing out her jeans and shirt, saying it was "real casual." At that moment, it was obvious that she cared about my opinion of her; she was interested in me.
On the inside, I made a couple comments about the music, then told Rayna I was going off to dance.
I was dancing freely and having a good time, but held off on approaching any other women. Amazingly, I recognized a beautiful girl - without exaggeration, the prettiest in the building - who I'd gone to college with over 3 years ago. I remembered that she had been just as sweet as she was pretty. It was an observation I'd made from afar, since in my pre-mission days I was virtually unable to even speak to her. Now, though, things were different.
Much different.
Immediately, I stopped her and exclaimed, "Don't I know you?" She said maybe, and that I looked familiar. I asked if we'd gone to school together, and finished her sentence when she started to name our alma mater. She asked what my name was "again" (although she'd never actually known it), and I said it was good to see her. It was a brief conversation, but I found it remarkable to feel like my new, fun, relaxed, uninhibited self with someone from my shyness-laden past.
I returned to dancing. I saw that Rayna had made her way to the dance floor with her friends, and decided to go dance with her. I made the perpetual mistake of hesitating, and a minute later, another guy had beaten me to it.
My opponent was taller and bigger than me, but less stylish and athletic. Feeling the full power of my newly-developed confidence, I knew that he had no chance with Rayna as long as I was around. I ignored the two, going back to some solo dance moves I'd learned in a class.
An hour later or so, I decided to look for Rayna again, hoping that she'd separated from my opponent. I was headed downstairs to watch the basketball game, and was determined to get Rayna's phone number. Fueled by confidence, I had resolved to do so even if my opponent were still with her. After all, I had met her first.
The scene would be less dramatic, as I found Rayna waiting for a drink alone at the bar. Without further thought, I handled the situation in the manner I'd thought days earlier. It had seemed brilliant, and it was time to put it to the test.
"Hey, give me your number in case I don't see you again."
She asked if I was leaving, and I explained that I was going downstairs to watch the basketball game. Then, I took out my phone, added her name, and handed it to her to enter her phone number.
Just that easily, I had finally completed my first pickup (that is, the first with me as the initiator) at 25 1/2 years old.
________________
After getting Rayna's phone number, there was no stopping me. I realized that I was experiencing the same principle as with so many other aspects of the mission. After managing to accomplish something seemingly impossible just once, it immediately seemed easy thereafter. I merely had to break the seal, proving that I could do it; dating had been a prime example. Going on a date seemed impossible before the first time, but after that, I was easily able to go on 53 more. Now, if only I could get 53 more phone numbers....
Another Friday night, Ryan invited me out with his friends. It was amazingly fun hanging out with him. He was even more uninhibited than I was (in fairness, he was drinking), stopping passing girls by taking their hand, and delivering lines like "You look real sexy tonight." Apparently his confidence worked well with the ladies, as many of them responded positively, complimenting both of us.
When Ryan had to leave with his friends, I finally took to the dance floor. This time, I was on a small bar dance floor with only a few people dancing at the end of the night. There was a cute blonde dancing, but I was initially reluctant to approach her - one of the few small signs of inhibition remaining to be destroyed.
When the DJ announced that the next song would be the last of the night, I just went for it. She was enthusiastic, and I realized that she'd probably been waiting for me to make a move since she saw me. When the music stopped, I threw up my hands and said, "It's only like 2:30!" I asked if she came to the area a lot, which seemed less cliche when I added that it was my first time. We talked for a couple minutes, and the conversation was light and fun, with me saying that her not having a car was good for the environment, and her telling me about having gone green. She then introduced her friend to me, and asked my name. With that obvious sign of interest, I wasted no time.
"Hey, give me your number in case I don't see you again."
It was a simple, confident, beautiful line that would be appropriate in almost any situation.
"Oh yeah, I'd probably never see you again otherwise since you live so far away."
I'd already started typing her name, Maureen, into my phone. She said I was a good speller, and before I knew it, we were reminiscing about the mutual experience of having failed on the first word in the spelling bee in elementary school. She had her arms on my shoulders, saying her heels were making her feet hurt - that also turned into friendly banter. It was the most fun I'd ever had talking to someone on a dance floor.
The next night, I delivered my line to a girl at a nightclub after little more than some fun bumping and grinding. Again, I added another girl's number to my phone.
The seal had been broken, and it was now easy. The next week, I decided to try to build on my progress even further. Ryan's friendliness and success with talking to so many people while we were out inspired me to return to my Talk To People Everywhere resolution for the New Year. I simply said anything and everything that came to mind at the next club. It was the simple, yet critical principle I'd learned in dating conversation: you have to share your thoughts with others. I found myself stopping a guy to tell him that he looked like my favorite basketball player; he shook my hand, and gave me a chest bump, saying he wished he could make money like that guy. I spotted a girl checking me out, and told her that she had a nice-looking group of friends - again, they looked intelligent, and like they'd be my group of friends, if I had one (they turned out to be doctors). I spoke to more people than I could possibly hope to remember, even telling the club photographer, "You're the most beautiful photographer I've ever seen!" Some people were friendly and others were not, but most importantly, it was a great exercise that helped me whittle away at some of the last remaining bits of inhibition.
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Ironically, my endless enjoyment of nightclubs has been one of the main reasons for the lull in this blog; to quantify, clubbing has taken up about 10 hours per week (a part-time job!). My weekend nights have been providing me with more stories than I could possibly hope to write about, but one more worth mentioning is that of Kelly.
As a change from SuperBar, I decided to try one of the city's super clubs one Saturday night. I arrived early, taking a spot near the wall on the dance floor before anyone else started dancing. I soon found myself moving more and more to the music, until I was but the lone dancer with about a dozen onlookers standing around. I was comfortable in the situation, knowing that I was more uninhibited than the others. After all, it was a dance floor, not a stand around sipping a drink floor.
Eventually, I took a walk around while waiting for things to pick up. When I returned, I found two girls dancing with only one guy. Without hesitation, I approached the lone girl and danced with her. She and her friend had stood nearby earlier when I was dancing alone, so they'd already had a chance to decide if they were interested.
And interested, she was. When I started my new water-testing routine of seeing how she responded when I asked her name, she asked mine. She then asked where I was from, and what I did for a living. We talked while we danced, managing to have a normal conversation over the music as I learned that she was a 21-year-old English major, that her best friend attends my alma mater, and the like. With her obvious interest in more than just dancing with me, I was as confident as ever. When her friend went to the bathroom to get away from her dance partner, I joked to Kelly, "They can't all be like me!" As we continued dancing, I escalated the physical contact, holding her hand while sensually kissing her back and neck from time to time.
After about an hour, Kelly said that she and her friend were going to take a break, and invited me to come with them. We went to the house music floor, where I easily entertained the pair with some of my fun, uninhibited dance moves. When I mentioned that I'd never tried alcohol, Kelly's friend marveled in disbelief. She went down the list, asking if I'd ever tried marijuana, or smoked a cigarette, or....had sex. I started to fib to save face on the last question, but remembered that honesty is one of the pillars of successful conversation and relationships. I humorously told her that I couldn't say, because a gentleman never kisses and tells.
When Kelly went to the restroom, I was alone with the friend, who was remarkably beautiful. I found out that her name was Molly, and that she'd gotten pregnant at 17 by her high school sweetheart, and so attended college online. As we talked more, I was struck by how down-to-earth she was in spite of such rare, flawless beauty. When Kelly returned, I teased Molly about liking the electronic music, and we returned to the hip-hop dance floor.
I was having a great time with my new friends. Molly had decided not to dance with anymore guys, so we constantly shifted positions as one guy after another comically tried to dance with her. Meanhwile, I held Kelly in my arms throughout the night. As we pressed our faces together, with me kissing her cheek from the side, Molly couldn't hold back a smile at the sight of the apparently-cute couple we made.
About 15 minutes before closing, we decided to leave. Kelly's friend had lost her cell phone (an event that had provided some good fodder for my jokes), so I put Molly's number in my phone. Kelly sent me a text to make sure the numbers were in correctly, and even got my full name just in case. They waited for me to get my coat, and finally, we could talk without yelling over the music once we were outside.
I walked Kelly and Molly to their car, and they insisted on driving me to mine over in the next parking. After four hours, it had been the most time I'd ever spent with someone at a club. As I began to finally end our conversation and get out of the car, Kelly said happily, "I had a really good time."
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The end draws nearer.
