The Vision

It started with a text. Amorita, the friend who has unwittingly been so instrumental in helping me turn my life around, asked if I wanted to hang out sometime during the week. I remembered that I already planned to go dancing with my more recent, yet very close friend Natalie, and suddenly, a divine opportunity was before me.

I had made several friends over the course of my nearly two-year-old mission, but only once had any two even been in the same room. Having a group of friends was a goal I longed for, and was a huge part of the vision for my life that has propelled me through this journey. It seems odd that I hadn't managed to get my friends together before, but they all seemed so different that I didn't know if there would be enough common ground.

There was only one way to find out.

I asked Amorita if she wanted to go to a popular strip of bars and nightclubs in the city, and she agreed. Ecstatic, I decided to go all-out and invite everyone I could. With each reply I became more and more stirred with emotion, recognizing that the coming Friday was shaping up to look like my dream for the day I'd declare mission accomplished.
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I picked up Natalie, and we were the first to arrive. For some reason, we decided to go into a cafe in the bustling city district, and I spotted an old acquaintance from college and high school.

It was another unlikely coincidence. We were in a city of 600,000, not even in the same state as our old schools. Yet as if by fate, I had encountered another person who knew me in my pre-mission past - this time, from the darkest days of paralyzing shyness. From the times when I'd go through entire school days without speaking. Writing these words, I realize that I've hardly ever mentioned this period of my life because I virtually never think about it anymore. The pain stings like a dagger wound as the images come rushing back.

Whether by fate or fortune, each of these unlikely coincidences was a chance to, in a way, experience what life would have been like without the bane of inhibition for all those years.
I told Natalie I knew the guy sitting on the sofa across the room, and that we should go over and talk to him.

And talk to him, I did. I asked what he'd been up to, inquired about another friend, made jokes about our old school, introduced Natalie, and followed every other impulse I had. My social skills were polished, and nothing short of impressive.
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In all, eight had been invited, and five were planning to come out. I was in awe at the moment the final two made their appearance in the cafe. This was my group of friends, all of whom I'd met recently:

Natalie - A 24-year-old Dutch Ph.D. student. We'd met after I posted an ad on craigslist asking if anyone knew of a hip-hop dance studio, with no real intention of meeting anyone. She asked me to let her know if I found out, and we soon learned that we'd gone to the same university at the same time. Since meeting to take a class together, we'd hung out more weeks than not. I've never connected with anyone else in the same way as with Natalie, and she will probably be the first person who knows me that will see this blog.

Bina - A 36-year-old software engineering manager who asked me to take her number at SuperBar. We'd gone out twice before I suggested that we should just be friends, citing the age difference. I'd seen her again three more times since.

Amorita - A 27-year-old law clerk. The one who means the most to me, she was the first person I met when I started the mission in August 2007. Even though I was very inhibited that day and had virtually no social skills to speak of, she still wanted to hang out again. After I'd responded to her craigslist ad, she'd said that she was going to get me out of my shell, and that's precisely what she helped me do. Now, we've hung out more times than I can count. She tells me about all of the guys she dates, as if I were here closest girlfriend, and she is, in fact, the only person in the world (blog readers notwithstanding) who knows about my own superfluous dating.

Janessa - Amorita's friend, who I'd met at last summer's birthday parties and had hung out with a few more times while with Amorita.

Neola - A 30-year-old Drug Enforcement Agency analyst. She was the first girl whose phone number I ever asked for after striking up some conversation at Amorita's party, soon after the amazing tide-turning event we know as The Death of Inhibition.

Finally, it had happened. What would be to most people an ordinary moment, not garnering even a second thought, meant far, far more to me. This moment, where I was surrounded by five friends, was the apex of my life.

Early in the blog, I wrote about how difficult the "group situation" always was for me. Now, it was anything but. I'd had little practice, but a lifetime of observation and admiration for the socially adept was paying off. I skillfully kept everyone involved in the conversation, shifting my attention around as I spoke. I told one friend things that I knew about another in order to establish common ground between them. For example, I announced that Bina and Neola had both just finished school. It was really only a tangential relation, since one had gotten an MBA and one had been doing training for drug enforcement, but it got them talking to each other. I also made as many jokes as ever, and even told some brief stories. As happy as I was with my effortless social ability, I was most delighted when the girls found topics of dicussion without any input from me. Perhaps they could be friends with each other after all.

After a couple of hours at the cafe - time seemed to go fast - we headed over to one of the bars, where we danced until closing time. After a few hugs outside, we said goodnight.

On the way back to Natalie's place, we chatted lightheartedly as usual. When I joked about how awesome I was, she stopped me, and took a serious tone.

She wanted me to know that she agreed.

I realized then that not only do I have friends, but I have great friends who admire me.
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The main reason that this post doesn't mark the end of my mission is that the vision included more than friendship: there was also the matter of romance.

The following Friday, I was exhausted, as I usually am following a workweek with far too inadequate sleep. I was so tired that I was nearly in tears, but I was determined to go out anyway. In fact, my experience had almost always been that the worst I felt before going out, the better my night would be. Several of the best nights of my life had started out in the same manner; what would happen this time?

I returned to the city nightlife district once again, this time alone. After breaking a sweat with a few songs on the dance floor, I headed upstairs for a drink.

The bar was full. After waiting for a while, I thought about trying the bar on the other side of the room - where I'd been served immediately before - but for some reason, I stayed.

Soon, a spot opened up on the right-hand corner, next to a pretty, dark-haired girl. I'd noticed a couple guys talking to her while I waited, and had mentally registered them as being a boyfriend and a friend.

I came over and stood next to her, at first saying nothing as I continued to wait. After a few moments, our hands bumped as she lowered her blue drink while I reached for napkins to wipe some of the sweat away from my face.

"Excuse me....", I said.

A few moments later, she asked if I was waiting for a drink, and I told her I was.

As we watched the bartender serve a couple ladies who had just arrived, she joked that you had to have boobs to get a drink there. I agreed, saying that I forgot to wear my makeup and my push-up bra, adding a funny gesture to go along with the joke.

I hadn't even been trying to start a conversation, but now, the ice was broken. I realized that she was the one trying to start a conversation with me.

Apparently she'd decided to use her beauty to get the bartender's attention, and asked what I wanted. She laughed when I joked that I was a heavy drinker, but said that I wanted a Sprite. I told her I'd never even tried alcohol, and got the usual reaction of surprise and curiosity as to the reason.

Before I knew it, the conversation was rolling along. I hesitate to write that I was relaxed and uninhibited, as that has come to virtually always be the case.

I asked, "Where's your crew?" and learned that she was at the club alone. It was quite unusual for a lady to come to a nightclub by herself, so I inquired further, and learned that one of her girlfriends was a bartender there. She asked where my crew was, and I said I was also alone.

"I came out to dance. My friends slow me down. You know, the kind of friends who want to leave early? I never leave a party until it's over."

I then decided to explain something I'd been thinking about during the drive to the city:

"Some people come out to relax, and some people come out to cut loose. I'm a cut-loose type of person."

After talking about her job for a few minutes, I asked if she knew the male bartender's name so I could get his attention. She couldn't remember, so I followed up by asking, "What's your name?"

Morgan.

Not telling a woman my name and instead waiting for her to ask was my litmus test for interest, but her friend came over before she could say anything else. Morgan stopped her, and finally ordered the Sprite for me. I said, "Thanks, Morgan," and she soon asked my name.

I asked if I detected a slight accent in her voice, and learned that she was from Poland. After she said she lived in the city and I told her I lived in the suburbs, we started debating which was better. She laughed and gently hit me during our playful argument, which went on for a while, and I recognized it as an obvious sign of attraction and interest.

More importantly, Morgan and I were having a great time chatting at the bar. I'd met Rayna in line outside of a club, but otherwise, Morgan would be the first romantic connection I'd made with neither the use of dance nor the Internet.

It was getting late, and I knew that Morgan had to be up early for work the next day, so she was probably just sticking around to keep talking to me. I told her I needed to go dance and might be heading next door. "Give me your number in case I don't see you again," I said as I pulled out my phone and started adding her name.

I added her number, made a comment about the area code, told her to have fun, and headed off to dance.

On the dance floor, I was the life of the party - just like always. It's a remarkable feat, really: only months ago, I was too inhibited to even imagine dancing in public. Now, I dance with such vigor that I never leave a nightclub without my shirt being soaked in sweat. Combined with ever-developing skill, my free spirit invariably entertains countless other patrons. I've come so far that I actually now become annoyed when I feel people aren't paying enough attention to my moves. On this night, I went outside for a walk after spending some time on both dance floors. When I returned, a girl who I didn't particularly remember came over and insisted that I had to dance in the center of the floor.

Being an entertainer was beyond my vision.
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While it looked like the romantic part of my grand vision might finally be realized with Rayna, that no longer looks to be the case. She sent me a text a few days after our date, asking if I was going to class at the dance studio we attend. When I called her later that night - a mistake, no doubt - I found myself a little uncomfortable, and there was even a rare awkward silence in the conversation. I asked if she wanted to get together again before she'd leave for her two-week vacation the next week, but she gave me the "possibly" answer I'd heard before winning her over on our first date. She left for vacation without calling, and I've been growing less and less interested with each passing day.

Instead of allowing a lull to materialize, I met up for my first date with Kelly, a girl I'd spent a night dancing with at a club. She gave me a call when she had trouble finding the pool hall, where I was standing outside in the rain with a big golf umbrella.

As I talked to Kelly, two very cute girls - a blonde and a brunette - ran up to me to get underneath the umbrella. I asked if they were going to the pool place, and offered to walk them to the door. The brunette thanked me, and said, "You're so cute!" I tried to dismiss the interaction since I was on the phone with my date, but the brunette told me her name was Angela, and said that I should come hang out tonight. I told her I already had plans, and finally was able to get back to the phone call.

Kelly heard the whole thing, and asked if I was making friends without her.

I told her I was trying to fend them off.

While Kelly drove around looking for the pool hall, I went inside. There again were the two girls. I was immediately confident as we chatted, making jokes and going through the usual bit about me never having had a drink. I was very interested in the adorable brunette named Angela, and took a seat with the pair when she asked. After chatting for a few minutes more, I wanted to get Angela's phone number, but knew it would be too hurtful to my date if she were to find out. Instead, I gave Angela my amazingly handy Feycebook card, which she said was very nice.

In short, the date with Kelly went perhaps more easily than any other. I was so comfortable that it didn't even feel as if I were on a date. Unfortunately, I wasn't interested, and knew it would be best not to kiss her goodnight, despite some attraction and the fact that I was surely amazing in her eyes.
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Finally, I've decided that it's time to try something new. I've now been on 58 dates, and have described almost all of them in this blog. On a mission with so much already done, one of the remaining experiences to be had is a simple one: date someone privately, without sharing the details online.

When I find that one special girl who completes The Vision, I promise you'll read all about her. In the meantime, we'll use the blog to explore other new, great things.

Dancing on the Grave: An Epic Milestone

As I headed toward the parking garage from SuperBar, light drizzle rained from the early morning sky as a cool breeze swayed gently across my body. I was distinctly relaxed, observing my surroundings as I walked, carefree, engulfed completely by a sense of fulfillment.

I had reached the confluence of dreams and reality.

A homeless man stopped me, calling out "Hey, Shirt!" in observation of my stylish attire. I played along with his questions about who the President and Vice President of the United States were. He then asked for money, but I didn't mind giving him a couple dollars. I couldn't possibly have minded giving him a couple dollars, because I had just experienced my best night of my life.
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After my date with Rayna, I went home, watched the basketball game, and headed out to SuperBar. It had been five weeks since my last visit, which was easily the longest I'd stayed away since first discovering the bustling nightclub. Because I'd arrived later than usual, the lines outside were so long that Danny, my bouncer friend, couldn't possibly have seen me at the end. I had no intention of waiting long, so I walked around the line to the side where Danny was checking ID's and letting people in.

Just as I got around the line, Bina saw me and called my name. We'd become good friends since my readers convinced me to stop dating her. She'd invited me to a birthday party that night, saying that the group might come by SuperBar for dancing afterwards. She asked how long the wait would be in line, but I told her that she and her friend could just come in with me.

A moment later, Danny saw me, came over, and shook my hand. I usually don't sound or feel as confident talking to him, but with Bina around, my confidence exuded as I alternated between calling him "Danny" and "D," a nickname I'd given him. He asked how many people I had with me, then said it was no problem. As he gave the girls VIP passes, I asked how everything had been, and said I liked his outfit. I was an impressive, smooth-talking gentleman who didn't need to wait in line to get in. I thanked Danny once more, and the ladies were thoroughly impressed by my great connection at the club. On the inside, Bina said she and her friend would leave me to "do my thing." And so, I did my thing.
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Perhaps because everything had gone so smoothly outside the club, I found for the first time that I didn't really need any time to warm up socially. I started full-blown dancing as soon as I hit the floor, and realized that I was actually a good dancer. Glancing behind me, I noticed that people sitting were smiling as they watched. As I continued on the dance floor, I saw others watching me and apparently pointing me out to friends, causing a few heads to turn. Dancing for hours most Friday and Saturday nights, going to dance class every week, and occasionally practicing in private had allowed me to develop a great new social skill.

The main level dance floor was still relatively sparse, and oddly enough, I didn't see any girls who I was very interested in dancing with. I started to think that my feelings for Rayna were diminishing my interest in other women, but instead of analyzing, I decided to go upstairs for a drink.

I had asked the pretty bartender Maria her name the last time I saw her, and as usual entered it into a note in my cell phone to make sure I'd remember.

"It's Maria, right?"
She said something inaudible, which I thought was a no.
"It's not?"
"It is! You sound unsure of yourself."
"Oh, I thought you said no! And I knew that was really your name, so I thought you were just messing with me."

I would joke around with her more later in the evening. It was a good start to the night, with me feeling as loose as ever in both dance and conversation. I took a seat in the basement, drank my bottle of water, and headed back upstairs to the main dance floor.

As I walked up the stairs, I noticed that my favorite song was playing. It became my favorite when I first heard it in Miami while a beautiful girl danced in my arms. Since then, I've always tried to dance with a pretty girl every time I've heard it.

I danced my way from the stairwell to the dance floor, singing boisterously along. When the first girl I tried to dance with dodged me, I moved on immediately, without even stopping for a moment. As I moved down the floor to find another partner, I inadvertently bumped a girl who was dancing behind me. She seemed to bump me back on purpose, so I decided to play and dance back-to-back with her, with my backside bumping against hers.

She was fun. When I turned around, I knew that she wanted to dance with me normally, so I had found a partner for the second half of my song. I noticed that her friends were a group I'd interacted with before. In fact, I'd spent a long time dancing with her tall friend a couple months ago, and had even asked for her phone number - before I started having so much success.

After a couple songs, I asked her name.

"Theresa. What's yours?"

I told her I'd met her friends a while back. She apparently remembered me herself - they'd probably talked about me afterwards - because she told me which friend it had been. I recalled what I remembered from that night, asking if she was also from Europe.

She was very happy to be dancing with me. I got the feeling that she'd been jealous of her friend the night we'd been together a while back; Theresa had probably been wishing it were her.

And now, only a few hours after I'd been bewildered by the lack of physicality on my third date with Rayna, I was getting very physical with a girl I'd known only minutes. A young German girl with long hair, Theresa looked extremely sexy in her short white skirt. As we grinded sensually to the music, we first held hands. Then, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her around her stomach. She took my hands again, and I raised them above her head. We played with each other's bodies for a while, and though nothing new to me, it was as fun as ever.

I told her that she smelled good.
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It all started in seventh grade, if not before. On a bus field trip to Luray Caverns, I sat in the back with a group of my classmates, who were playing a game. They'd dare one of the girls to kiss a certain boy, or vice versa. As I sat silently - paralyzed with the shyness that robbed me of so many experiences as a child - I was fascinated by the french kiss.

That fascination never subsided. As the years passed, I thought about it. When the World Wide Web became popular, I read about it. Even up to the past few months, I studied it in videojug.com videos. For so many years, I dreamt about it, and wondered what it would be like.

After that kiss with Rayna a few hours earlier - where I thought there was some slim chance she was trying to open her mouth - I realized that it would be hard to tell, since I had no firsthand experience with an open-mouthed kiss at almost age 26. I realized that if I were to finally kiss her like that, I might not know what to do, despite the articles and videos. If I were too awkward on my very first try, it might strike her as an odd thing for a 25-year-old.

I'd pondered it so much between the date and going to SuperBar that I had already started trying to come up with a solution, weighing my options. I thought that maybe I should make a move on my friend Natalie. We'd become such good friends that I had several times wondered if she were actually my best friend. She's moving back to Europe this month, so what would it matter? Or maybe, I thought, I'd make a move on Kelly. She lived too far away for there to be any real potential for us, but she was so crazy about me that I could easily make out with her. Then there was another girl I'd met at SuperBar, who lived on the opposite coast of the country, but would be in town for a wedding next week. Maybe I'd take her out, and make a move on her in effort to get some practice before things went further with Rayna.

And then, there was the best option.

Back on the very first night I went to a nightclub alone, I saw a stylishly dressed guy with sunglasses making out with a beautiful girl. I was in absolutely awe, since they apparently had just met that night. I then adapted my style to his, never showing up to a nightclub without sunglasses and a designer shirt.

It seemed like whenever I went out dancing, I'd notice some couple who had just met kissing. These people were getting more action within minutes or, at best, hours after meeting each other than I ever did, in total, in my entire life. Why couldn't that be me?

It could be. I had made it a goal a while back to kiss a girl in a nightclub, and probably could have accomplished it months ago, had I only live by the words he who is afraid of going too far will never find out how far one can go.
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Back in the moment, I was in the middle of the dance floor with Theresa. We had separated and faced each other for a while so that we could talk - I said I liked her necklace - but she was now in my arms once again. I pressed the side of my face against hers as we continued grinding to the music, and it had gotten as hot and heavy as ever. Suddenly, I had a clairvoyant-like feeling that something was about to happen. I recalled my goal, and realized that this could be it.

I kissed Theresa's neck sensually. She turned, smiled, and said "Thank you..."

It was a different reaction.

Shortly afterwards, I kissed the side of her neck again. She turned, smiled again, and looked at me with a sweet expression. This time, she didn't turn away, and I knew what she wanted me to do.

Without any further thought, I kissed her lips. They were soft, moist, and wonderful. My eyes were closed as we continued to gently press our lips together for a few seconds.

She started slowly opening her mouth. This time, it was unmistakable, and I knew from years of articles, videos, and dreams what to do.

I opened my mouth too, and the next thing I knew, I felt her tongue. I also felt teeth, which for some reason I didn't expect. She flicked her tongue from side to side against mine, and I followed her lead when she slowly closed her mouth.

Finally, after over 13 years of immense yearning, I had kissed a girl. I had really kissed a girl, and had done it in the middle of a crowded room, dancing on the grave of my shyness.

I exalted in jubilation. It was a struggle to play it cool, with only my sunglasses helping to conceal my joy, which after only a few seconds forced my face to explode into a smile as I looked around for witnesses. I was happy to spot a short Indian guy about 30 - whose name I really need to find out - that I frequently see at SuperBar, speak to, and look for girls with. He nodded at me.

I wondered for a moment how badly I had done, if at all. Then, Theresa turned around again. And again, we kissed. This time, as I felt her tongue flick against mine, I took the lead by moving deep inside her mouth, slowly and sensually circling my tongue around hers.

Soon afterwards, we kissed yet again, with Theresa necessarily being the instigator since she was facing away from me.

I realized that since she kept initiating more kissing, I couldn't have been bad at all. I understood that there was no real way to mess it up. The mere intimacy and physical sensations of having the tongue of someone you're attracted to in your mouth, and vice versa, was in itself mind blowing.

After a while, she said she was going to go find her friends, who had left us alone. I moved on to give my witness friend five, shake his hand, and hear a few words indicating how throughly impressed he was. I then got back to dancing with the other club patrons.

Soon, I ended up dancing next to another girl who looked like she was having fun. I was doing an improvised foot-shuffle dance move in great rhythm to the song, and started a little ass bumping with the girl. She was delighted and impressed by my moves, saying she needed to learn my foot shuffle. I asked where she was from, and mentioned the dance studios in the city before asking her name. We ended up hanging out again on the VIP floor at the end of the night with some other guys we'd played around with, and I gave her a Feycebook card before I left. She sent me a message the next morning.

It was about an hour before I saw Theresa again, so I wondered if maybe she didn't think the kissing was as great as I did.

Other guys had been constantly talking to and trying to dance with her in my absence. When the DJ played Ain't No Mountain High Enough, I was nearby. She looked over and saw me, then moved away from her latest suitor.

I sang aloud boisterously as I took her back into my arms. As we danced, she turned again for me to kiss her, and I did. A few minutes later, I once more delighted in the sensation of slowly massaging the inside of her mouth with my tongue. It was a long, deep kiss, and my fifth or sixth with her - maybe seventh - that night.

We ended it slowly. As I opened my eyes, I continued to kiss her moist, wonderful, full lips for a few moments more. Her eyes were still closed as she indulged fully in the moment, swooning in pleasure as her lips remained fused with mine.

When I left the confines of the building later on, I felt that finally, I had lived.

Date #57

After our second date, Rayna called again a couple nights later. She'd called so many times that I was amazed at the difference between being involved with her and all of the other women I've met over the past 21 months. We talked for about 15 minutes, but without setting up another date - I hadn't yet prepared for that.

That Thursday, I sent a text asking if she'd be free on Sunday. At first she responded that she didn't think she would be busy, but then called again on Saturday. She now said that she was scheduled to work, but would make some calls and try to get a coworker to switch shifts with her.

Rayna ended up leaving me a voicemail, sounding a bit down, saying that she wasn't able to find someone to switch times with. It was perfectly fine with me, and I was happy to see the lengths she was willing to go just to spend time with me. Seeing that level of interest from a woman was definitely something special.

After a few more texts and phone calls - much more communication than I'd had with anyone else I dated - we planned to get together on Saturday.
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This time, I finally insisted on picking her up at her home. I joked that this way she might actually be on time, since she'd been quite late for our first two dates. Still, she wasn't ready when I arrived, and said I had to give her another five minutes. Again, I was happy to see the effort that she was putting in to be her best with me.

When she got in the car, a sweet scent perfumed the air, and I loved it. She looked fantastic, and I was excited to be with her once again. I made a few humorous comments and kicked off the conversation, then drove us a couple towns over for a game of mini-golf.

I explained the scoring system, then surprised myself at how clearly I was able to teach how her to putt. The mini-golf game itself was far from fantastic - and a cheap date at 10 bucks for both of us - but just like with bowling, we were laughing and having a good time.

When I picked her up at 4:30, Rayna had reminded me that she needed to be at her friend's dance show at 8:00. Forgetting this, I asked if she wanted to go eat, and she did.

With little other activity to distract us from our conversation, it was now much like the meals we'd shared on our first and second dates. I could again see obvious signs that Rayna was very concerned with how I viewed her. Twice when I casually asked about her tattoos, she was slightly defensive, avoiding the topic at first, then saying that it wasn't as if she were covered in them. I had given no opinion about tattoos, but she was clearly worried hat I might find them to be a turnoff.

When I returned from the bathroom, I noticed something interesting. Rayna absolutely lit up after I sat back down, momentarily gazing over at me with a big smile on her face. I knew exactly what she was feeling: she was delighted and in awe of the fact that she was with me, and that things were going so well between us.

The feeling was mutual. Realizing that it was our third date and that now we'd have the privacy of her doorstep to say goodbye, I felt a surge of anxiety from time to time as the possibility of more intimate physical contact hit me.

As we talked, I was struck by how beautiful Rayna was. When I first met her in line outside of a nightclub, I noticed that she was a sweet, pretty girl, but not like this. She must have let her hair down, but it couldn't have made that much of a difference. Somehow, she now seemed to have flawless beauty. I knew it didn't make sense, and tried to see her normally once again, but found it to be impossible.

Finally, I understood what was going on: I was afflicted. Afflicted by the most powerful of devices devised by Mother Nature, God, or both in order to keep men and women together for the good of humanity. I was afflicted, to at least some degree, by what we call love.

After the busgirl took away Rayna's plate, I suddenly realized we'd been at the restaurant a long time. I checked my phone, and it was 7:27. Rayna really needed to be at her friend's performance at 8:00, but we had both completely forgotten about the time. She asked if I wanted to come, but I already had plans. After getting the waiter's attention and telling him we were in a hurry, I paid cash for the check, and we headed out.

On the way back to her house, I found myself doing an unusual amount of talking about myself. I typically spend most of the time asking questions and discussing things going on in the the other person's life, but for some reason I now felt like saying more about myself. I told her how I kept getting traffic tickets from the city cameras, and told her a story about a bad experience I'd had at a restaurant we passed. My storytelling could still use some work, but I enjoyed the deviation from the usual conversation so much that I was actually excited to tell her Rayna some things.

When we arrived back at her place, she said she wasn't going in the house before leaving for the performance - she was already late - so I said I'd walk her to her car. It would be the first time I'd ever kissed a girl for a third time, and so I was a bit nervous.

After I made a comment about how neatly the items in the garage were arranged, she started to hug me. I tried to avoid it so as not to end the date exactly the same way as the first two - with a hug followed immediately by a kiss - but was unable, so I held her gently for a moment.

In that first moment after the hug, there was something odd. I can't quite pinpoint it, but it seemed as if she weren't looking directly at me. Whatever it was, it gave me the feeling that she was reluctant to kiss me. I kissed her anyway, but the subtle feeling I'd gotten discouraged me from doing so passionately. It ended up being short and forgettable.

As I drove home, I felt negative feelings, in stark contrast to my bouncing-of-the-walls enthusiasm after our second date. It had been great until that last moment, which left me feeling unfulfilled.

I couldn't figure out what that vibe was before the kiss. She had lit up in speechless joy at the sight of me only a couple hours ago. My storytelling skills weren't great, and I might have shown a little nervousness in the final few minutes, but surely those things couldn't have had much of an effect on her interest.

What was up with this girl and kissing? This time, was she just being awkward because she'd forgotten to bring her lipgloss? Or because she'd had garlic in her dish at dinner? Or was she nervous the same way I was about the prospect of getting much more physical? And maybe still it was the fact that her family lived in the same house and might walk in on us.

I didn't know what to make of it. As I decided to just let it go and see if she'd be the one to call first again, I started thinking. It actually felt like she'd opened her mouth a bit when I kissed her. Was she trying to french kiss me? If not, why were we getting less physical on our third date? I'd gotten much more physical with girls at nightclubs whose names I didn't even know, yet I had been talking to Rayna on the phone and in person for well over a month!

Little did I know that the antidote to my worry about Rayna lay just hours ahead. I had obliviously set in motion a chain of events that would lead to the evening becoming the best night of my entire life.

Date #56

After our first date, Rayna sent me the typical follow-up text message the next morning, saying she'd had a great time, and that she'd talk to me soon. Unlike almost all of the others, though, she wasn't leaving the pursuit up to me. After work that night, she actually picked up the phone and made the call herself.

Once again, talking to her was effortless. I'd had nothing planned, but kept the conversation moving along by asking questions and making jokes about things she told me. There was no mention of having had a good time on our date, and there were no obvious getting-to-know you questions. Instead, it was as if I were talking to someone with whom I already had an established relationship. As usual, I ended the conversation - this time after half an hour - because Rayna seemed content to chat all night.

The next morning, I had surgery to extract all four of my wisdom teeth. It was an interesting experience from the perspective of the mission, because I had started out being an uninhibited jokester from the first day I'd met the staff at the doctor's office. One of the critical issues in overcoming shyness and inhibition is the fact that it's very difficult to change that persona with people who are already accustomed to it, but ultimately very easy to be uninhibited as long as you're that way with people from the start. As this may be my final hurdle, the phenomenon will be addressed fully before this blog comes to an end.

Afterwards, Rayna sent me a text, asking how I did. I told her it was insanely fun, because I'd had laughing gas, and had never tried alcohol or anything like that. She texted back a compliment, saying I had a great attitude and she liked that.

A couple days later, she called again. I noticed that she led the conversation around to finding out whether or not I had any kids (ha!!), which was understandable since she hadn't had the luxury of reading my online profile. She then started talking casually about having kids, asking if I thought I'd have a girl (ha...) and that her mother always says she will. Yep - she liked me. I ended the conversation a few minutes later, saying I'd probably try to catch up with her the next week after I'd healed. She told me her schedule, and a couple of phone calls later, date #56 was arranged.
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After making a return to the dance floors after a rare missed weekend following my surgery, I was exhausted the morning I was to meet up again with Rayna. As great as things had been going with her, this led me to feel anxious in the hours and minutes leading up to our second date.

Finally, she walked through the door of the bowling alley. I spoke to her, made a joke, and my anxiety evaporated. Ironically, she was a source of confidence, with me being more comfortable with her than without.

It was a piece of cake. 2-player bowling didn't leave much time for conversation, so I mostly joked about how bad we both were, teasing Rayna about her awful form. Of course, my ease with Rayna was fueled by a few well-documented principles, like being open and sharing whatever thoughts came to mind. After practicing on so many dates and other social activities, these have become completely natural.

I was certain that my date was having a good time. Not only did she smile and laugh throughout the games, but I also picked up a clear vibe from her. Once when I turned around after my bowl, I saw that she was putting on some chapstick, not really paying attention to the alley. I had the distinctive feeling that she was less interested in the actual game than in how well things were going with her date, hoping that would continue. I could feel this instinctively, especially after experiencing it myself so many times.

After losing both games, I suggested that we head over to a restaurant to eat dinner. She happily agreed, and we went to a hibachi grill in the shopping center. Now, there would be little more than just conversation, but I was confident talking to her and actually looked forward to it.

I'd thought of a few topics earlier, but after so many phone conversations, I was sure doing so wasn't necessary. We talked about whatever came up, and again, it was all so easy. Early on, I noticed Rayna used a local slang term I hadn't heard anyone but me say since high school. I let it go at first, but later was sure to tell her what I was thinking. Old slang terms was a fun topic I'd thought of a long time ago, but Rayna didn't want to say much about it. She was obviously avoiding it because she didn't want me to think that she was somehow less intelligent or anything like that for using slang, but of course, that was merely her own inhibition kicking in. I realized that having a good image in front of me was important to her.

I was completely on my game. I made good jokes, and whenever something came to mind, I simply said it. For example, when I asked Rayna what musicians she likes, we had no favorites in common. In the old days I would have just listened and nodded, trying to avoid drawing attention to our differences. Now, though, I interjected, "OK! I'm just waiting for you to name someone I've heard of...." I even found myself doing some rare talking about myself and, for perhaps the first time, about my feelings, as I told Rayna that my director at work had just left, and that he'd been one of my favorite people in the whole world.

We kept talking after the plates were cleared, until the restaurant had closed and started turning the lights off. We both laughed and agreed it was our cue to leave.

While we were talking, I had looked at Rayna and marveled to myself at how attractive I found her. I was dying to kiss her again. Now, as I pushed the door open for her and we walked outside, my mind shifted again towards those thoughts as I put the conversation on auto-pilot.

I'd always tried to put on chapstick when my dates weren't looking, so as not to seem presumptous or anything like that. With no such opportunity this time, I had to use it in front of her. It was a somewhat clumsy prelude to a beautiful romantic act, but there was no way around the fact that chapstick makes kisses better. After I casually applied some of the stuff, Rayna did the same a few moments later as we talked on our way back to the cars.

We'd met at the bowling alley instead of driving together, so our goodbye would again have to take place in public. A couple in a car in front of Rayna's was standing outside, so I talked a bit more about something my boss had told me. Luckily, the couple had driven away by the time I finished.

I said I'd better let her get out of the cold.

She hugged me. I kept her in my arms afterwards, and immediately kissed her.

This time, it felt as if my kiss were fueled by raw emotion. I really liked Rayna. As her moist, soft lips pressed against mine, my energy shifted towards extending the kiss instead of pulling back. After 2 or 3 seconds - it seemed like longer - I felt her smile, and our lips separated. She moved closer, pressing her body gently against mine. She said, "I'm really not used to this, I swear," and rubbed my back in another embrace. I didn't have time to fully process what her comment meant, so I merely said alright, told her to have a good night, and drove away.