The Centerpiece

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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.

Finding the Pieces

Though nearly a month has passed since I last wrote, my absence has not been due to lack of activity; there has been more going on than ever. As the mission nears its second anniversary, the social life for which I've yearned is gradually coming to fruition. I typically use the blog to share new experiences and remarkable events, but I'm now finding that the experiences and events that were once so are now simply becoming normal. Meanwhile, the puzzle of my new life has been taking form.

Since my last few posts, I've removed several pieces that proved not to fit. Before the last two dates I shared, there was indeed a fifty-third date with another girl from eHarmony named Brandy. When she didn't show up at Starbucks, I sent her a text. She claimed that she didn't know if we were still meeting, since she hadn't heard from me that day. It was an absurd claim, since she had said "See you then" twice over e-mail less than 2 days ago. She had no good excuse, and I wasn't going to stand for it.

With amazing stubbornness, Brandy argued with me via text messages for nearly an hour instead of being apologetic. I was surprised that she would flake out on me since we had already talked on the phone, and learned that we had an amazing amount in common - all the way down to being software engineers. Combined with the fact that I already had two other promising dates coming up, I was now far too displeased with her attitude to have any real interest. Nonetheless, she still wanted to meet. I decided to give it a try mostly for practice, and partly because it would be interesting.

We met later that night. I intentionally projected my voice when I first spoke to her, and my second sentence was a joke alluding to her being a pain in the ass earlier in the day. I had absolute confidence once again, but this time, my slight dislike for my date provided an edge that made me feel and act as confident as anyone possibly could. I'd decided to practice entertaining my date, which was a skill with which I'd remarkably become adept. As I talked and joked, my personality emerged as the clearly dominant one in the room. I had the powerful feeling of sensing that merely being myself made her feel at least a little self-conscious, as her social skills were far less impressive.

The Starbucks closed after only half an hour, and she declined my half-kidding invitation to continue our date at the Burger King across the parking lot. She said that I should call to confirm next time, which reminded me that she still hadn't apologized in person for standing me up earlier. I decided that she would not fit as a piece of my new life.
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And then there are the subjects of my last two posts. Elisa, for whom I felt overwhelming feelings, was not responsive after saying that she'd had a great time in an e-mail the next afternoon. I'd replied and invited her to a dinner show the following Sunday, but she took until that morning to respond. She said she'd probably be working, but that she hoped we could get together soon. When I called a week later, she neither answered nor called me back. Finally, I sent her a text suggesting that we have dinner before she left for vacation. She asked what day would be good, then never responded after that.

This time, I wasn't quite heartbroken. It was absolutely astonishing that she'd lost interest - without even talking to me - after the wonderful first date we'd had. She'd seemed more interested than any of the other 42 girls I'd dated, but after The Autumn Saga, nothing could surprise me.

And finally, there was Bridgette. Things had seemed to go well with her on our second date, and I had become quite interested, even though she didn't seem as special as Elisa. She e-mailed me the next day, telling me to send her a link to something that we'd talked about when we were together. I had been relieved to see the e-mail - which I took to be continued interest - since I'd been thinking about a possible slight imperfection at the end of our date. I texted her a few days later, asking if she wanted to "go for the trifecta this weekend."

Five days later, she responded.

"Sorry been crazy busy at work tryn 2 catch up. Not a big fan of horse racing though."

My text obviously had nothing to do with horses, but I just replied:

"Wow. Five days to respond to a text though?"

I got in the shower to get my mind off of things, and missed her call. She left a message asking me to give her a call the next day, but I called minutes later and didn't reach her. After a bit of phone tag, we got in touch after a week. I was hoping she'd been calling to apologize, but in reality I knew that she wouldn't have ignored a text for five days if she'd been interested. She said she'd had a really good time on our date, but that she didn't feel "any connection." The pain stung as she spoke, and I quickly ended the call - hanging on by a thread to the confident tone of my voice - with only seven words: "Alright! Well good luck. Take care. Bye-bye."

Bridgette, Brandy and Elisa were the last three girls I'd been connected to through eHarmony. After these final failures, I became even more determined to stick to my New Year's resolution of abandoning online dating. After meeting 42 women that way, with none making it past even a mere third date, it was clearly not a piece to the puzzle.

An era had drawn to a close.
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It was interesting that Bridgette had called to end our short-lived relationship. After all, only one other girl - my very first date - had ever done that, while I could never bring myself to ignore someone after a date even if I wanted to.

Bina texted and called me a couple times after my last post about her, which spurred comments that made me realize I shouldn't go any further in the relationship. I hoped to end it in a way that would allow us to still be friends, and so I sent her a well-planned text:

"Hey. I've been thinking... I really like you a lot, but long-term my age might be an issue. Maybe it'd be better if we're friends?"

She said that was fine, and that she was going to ask if I wanted to be friends because she didn't think I liked her. She also asked how old I thought she was. I told her that she looked amazing, but judging from her career, I was guessing she was about 35.

She said she was 36.

I continued with some flattery about thinking that she was around my age until we started talking, and finally, she said that she really would like to be friends if I was being truthful about that, because she enjoyed my company. I told her definitely, and added her on Feycebook.

After occasional texting, I asked if she wanted to grab some dinner last Wednesday. Almost needless to say at this point, I was my relaxed, uninhibited, great self. Whenever I made even the slightest joke, she seemed to think I was hilarious. After we finished eating, paid, and the plates were gone, she asked if I wanted to stay a while longer: she was having a great time just talking to me. I marveled at the fact that I could entertain someone so easily by mostly just asking questions and listening with genuine interest.

Bina invited me to a dinner show with her friends over the weekend. I'd already had tentative plans for my one pre-mission friend's birthday that night, so I declined. Still, though, I realized what was happening. When I first saw Bina at SuperBar - just like I've seen hundreds of others - I knew that her group of friends would fit me perfectly. I didn't know how I would make it happen, but I was determined that they would become my group of friends. At the time, it seemed unrealistic, but is now nothing short of a sure bet.

Bina is a piece to the puzzle.
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As with every other friendship, that which I've established with Bina means more to me than she'll probably ever know. I set out with but a single real friend in the world, but as a testament to the value of persistence, I now have five.

One of those five friends is Natalie, who so quickly became a normal part of my life that I haven't been compelled to write about her since we first met. We hung out again the very next day, and at least once a week afterwards. By the third time we got together, I understood what it meant to "click" with someone. We had lots of things in common - from going to the same university at the same time, to acting, and so on - but more importantly, there was something about our interaction. I was as relaxed with her as I am alone, or with anyone else, and the same was obviously true for her. We talked with ease, often about nothing in particular, with smiles and laughter ever-present. In just a few short weeks, we'd already taken a class together, gone nightclub dancing, had dinner, seen movies, and more. She was already close enough with me to share the reason that she had stopped coming to our dance class: the only other guy in the class was coincidentally another graduate of our alma mater, with whom she'd first had sex and a badly-ended relationship years ago.

Once while picking Natalie up to go play shuffleboard, one of her other male friends was leaving the house. When he hugged her goodbye and walked away, I immediately followed my impulse to ask, "He's not coming??" She asked if he wanted to play with us, and he was happy to come along. While the three of us played shuffleboard and hung out to chat over drinks, I realized that it was only one of a handful of times that I had socialized in a group. That situation always seemed to be the most difficult, but I was now comfortable, and it was easy.

Natalie is big piece to the puzzle, but I have yet to tell you about the biggest, which in the past week has brought the most amazing milestones to date.....

The Antidote

When I started considering a departure from eHarmony, I thought I would finally take a break from dating altogether. Still, though, I had already gotten involved with a few ladies, and was certainly going to see things through with them. As luck would have it, I formed an amazing connection with Elissa, the very last girl I met online. I found myself hopelessly afflicted by the Love Bug, with little else on my mind for the next couple days. I asked her to a Sunday show via e-mail, but saw no response by the next night. Instead of waiting, I realized that the best thing I could possibly do for myself was to spend time with someone else instead.

There was Bridgette, the only other girl with whom there was still mutual interest. She had confused me on our first date, leaving me with the impression that she was uninterested. On a whim, I sent her a link to a video I'd mentioned at Starbucks, and she again suggested that we meet up. When that date was cancelled due to snow, I asked if she was free a week later, but then she was sick. That weekend, we had a beautiful glimpse of spring with sunshine and 70-degree temperatures, and it made me think of her. I sent her a text:

"It's a beautiful day outside - made me think of you."

I'd long been in the habit of avoiding flattery and largely concealing my romantic feelings, but I decided that after 53 dates, it was time to try something new.

I called her Sunday to confirm the pickup time. At first, I succeeded in the initial projection of both my voice and uninhibited persona, but a moment later I was interrupted; someone was at the door. The idea of having a family member overhear my conversation immediately made me feel self-conscious, and I was stiff when I returned to the phone.

As I got dressed, I thought. I had just been amazingly great with the last two girls I'd gone out with. In fact, I hadn't had an unsuccessful date since last year! More still, for some reason, Bridgette must have liked me, even when I was relatively stiff with her. Just think how much she'd like me after seeing the real me! This time, I would make it a point to minimize the talk about work, and about anything else boring. We were going to Dave & Buster's, so I figured the environment would make it easy.
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She got in the car, and we were back together for the first time in nearly a month. I felt stiff during the first couple minutes of conversation, but then started to improve. Before long, I was back where I'd left off with her, largely taking on my uninhibited persona in spite of a general feeling of tension.

By the time we reached the mall, I was feeling pretty good, while continuing to improve. Now, jokes were coming to mind, and I executed them with little or no forethought. When Bridgette mentioned doing something when she was little, I said, "Well, you're still little!" When we wanted to play ski ball, a group of kids were taking up all of the lanes. I told my date that they were pretty small, so we could probably rough them. I started making whatever jokes came to mind, regardless of what they were. She said I was lucky on one of the games, so I told her, "I'd rather be lucky than good!" merely because it was a quote I'd heard somewhere. Luckily, she seemed to think it was funny. Some of the things I said ended up being pretty silly, but I later realized that you can't be too funny if you hold back; you have to be willing to sound silly every now and then.

After playing a few games and walking around for about 15 minutes, we decided to check on our dinner table. Now, I was so loose that I naturally joked around with the hostess.

"There's one party in front of you."
"One party.... what's that, a 30 second wait? 45 seconds?"

Somehow, that 45-second wait ended up being close to half an hour. I stood with Bridgette, with no menu, games, or food to help entertain her. All I had was me.

All I had was me, and me was all I needed. I'd realized after the last couple dates that I had actually become a good conversationalist since the inception of my mission. After all: how could this much practice not have paid off? I asked whatever came to mind, starting with the obvious question of what kind of food she was in the mood for. We ended up spending some time talking about work, but I was skilled enough to make it a fun topic. When Bridgette mentioned the CEO of her company, I asked if she'd ever met him. She told me that she'd shook his hand once, and I inferred that it was important to her. I then jokingly asked if she'd gotten an autograph, and told her that she should have taken a photo with her cellphone and made it her Feycebook profile photo. At the same time, I jokingly made fun of people who take cell phone pictures of themselves by mimicking the gestures. Now, Bridgette was seeing the real, fun, uninhibited me, which was a vast improvement from our first date.

As we ate, I realized that things were going great. I was sitting across from a beautiful girl, doing a stellar job of entertaining her.

Only time stood between her lips and mine.

I became anxious as I felt a little pressure to maintain the quality of the date until the end of the evening. Still, though, my mind continued to easily think of what to say, and my anxiety was surely invisible to Bridgette.

After our first date, I couldn't quite figure out what Bridgette and I liked about each other. We really hadn't even found a whole lot that we had in common. Now, though, we were starting to find that common ground. We were both semi-vegetarians, weren't particularly happy with our SUV's, and listened to the same morning talk show host, who we both thought was obnoxious.

Bridgette hadn't asked many questions at Starbucks, so tonight I would be sure to talk about myself so that she would learn some of the many interesting things about me. I skillfully related my experiences to things she said. For example, I asked about her kickboxing class, and then told her that I'd tried a lot of new things myself - like acting - since finishing school. She was interested, and asked more questions about it. I was able to visualize and tell her the story of my final class performance with relative ease. Telling stories seemed like an impossible task when I started the mission, so I felt proud myself afterwards.

Instead of using preprepared conversation topics, I was mostly able to think of things to say based on the current conversation and the environment. When we heard a group singing Happy Birthday, I naturally thought to ask when her birthday was, followed by whether or not she believed in astrology. She seemed to be having a good time, but would now confirm it. When we talked about astrological signs, she said she was curious what kind of profile I would have as a Virgo. She was so interested that she wanted to Google it right then on her phone, so I told her to go for it.

When she read off one of the Virgo characteristics as being "shy," I ridiculed the web site. ME? SHY?! It was outrageous!

I told her the rest of the characteristics were spot-on, and they were.

As I continued to ask interesting questions and make jokes, I observed Bridgette. After Starbucks, I thought there was absolutely no chance that I would ever see her again. There was just something so curious about a girl who was interested, yet had given no indication on the first date. Why hadn't she?

I noticed she had a quiet laugh; it was different, and adorable.

I noticed a couple times when there was a momentary lull in the conversation, she looked at me with an expression I'd seen while eating with Bina. In that case, I'd correctly interpreted it as concern about whether or not I liked her.

I noticed that Bridgette seemed self-conscious about using a kleenex and sounding congested, as she was still getting over her cold. I could tell that she once tried to conceal a cough, which was something I'd always done, fearing it would turn off a date.

I noticed that Bridgette remembered things from our first date that even I, who wrote a blog post about the shindig, didn't.

I noticed that I was the one making most of the jokes, and she was the one doing most of the laughing.

Above all, I noticed that I was the more uninhibited one. In the game room, she said that I could get on the dancing game, and she would watch. I wouldn't have even had to give a dancing game, or any other, a second thought, but there was absolutely no way she would play it in public; I teased her about it several times during the night.

When I made little comments to the waittress named Roseanne, I noticed that my interaction with our server made me seem more sociable than my date. Later, when she deducted my meal from the bill since I didn't eat much of it, my voice excuded confidence as we had a longer exchange:

"Roseanne......you are the best waitress I've---"

She asked me to fill out a survey.

"Oh! So it's a bribe!"

She said that I would be entered for a chance to win $10,000 if I filled it out.

"Ok, I'm gonna do it. Not only that though! Roseanne, if I win, I'm going to come back here, and give you $2,500."

I realized that I couldn't even imagine Bridgette joking around with the waitress, let alone being as fun as I was.

Now, I could at least postulate a theory as to what was going on. Perhaps it was that I was great. Perhaps, that is, I was so great that meeting me at Starbucks made Bridgette a little too nervous to ask a lot of questions that day. Maybe she didn't tell me she had a good time until she responded to my e-mail days later because she thought it was obvious that she had a good time with me, because I was so great. Maybe she was the one wondering whether I was interested, because, well, I was so great.

Then again, probably not.

She'd been telling me about preparing for a presentation at work the next day, so I said I'd better get her home to practice. As I drove us back to her apartment, she mentioned her beloved old green jacket, and I joked about it with ease, calling it "her" and asking if it had a name. I heard her quiet laugh, and glanced over to again see that beautiful smile. It was the genuine kind that you couldn't hide if you wanted to.

She'd had a good time.

I pulled into a handicap space and told her I'd walk her up. I'm usually obsessive about avoiding the common cold, but there was no way I was going to leave without kissing her goodnight.

We continued talking for a few moments after reaching the building door. She smiled, and I realized she didn't expect me to walk into the building with her. I said, "Alright," and gave her a hug.

After the hug, there was a brief, silent moment. I put my hand on her waist, leaning in towards her. She stood motionless for another moment, until I saw her move and closed my eyes. She gave me a short kiss that felt amazing, unlike anything I'd ever felt. In that instant, all of my anxiety vanished; my worries evaporated.

I then felt that Bridgette was as happy as I was, as she asked if I knew how to get home, and told me to have a safe drive. I told her to knock 'em dead in her presentation, and caught one more glimpse of her beautiful smile before I turned away.

The Love Bug

After meeting thirty or so women through eHarmony, I decided to call it quits. For starters, I'd never liked the idea of competing against other guys on the site, who would be presented as matches to any girl I met there. Second, I never saw much in the way of results. After putting in so much time, money, and energy, I hadn't gotten much out. Besides, it was time to move on and demonstrate that I'd progressed enough to get dates out in the real world. Perhaps there I would meet my first girlfriend, and not have to to worry about her being curious enough to meet up with other guys who were purportedly matched with her on 29 dimensions of compatibility.

After 17 months, I cancelled my subscription. I still had a few days left, though, so I continued the guided communication process that I'd begun with a girl named Elissa, who always responded extremely quickly. That seemed lucky, since otherwise my subscription might have run out before we were allowed to send open-ended messages. When I told her to e-mail me because I'd be leaving the site in a few days, she said that was funny, because she was doing the same.

From her very first message, I could tell that she was an unbelievably sweet girl. Her e-mails were replete with exclamation marks and smileys. Whenever it'd been a few days since I'd written, she said, "Good to hear from you!" After a couple weeks, I suggested we meet up at a billiards hall in the city.

I knew that she would be the last girl I'd ever meet in the world of online dating.
________________

I walked over and asked, "What's up?" as we hugged.

We took a table near the entrance and started talking.

"You look nice!"

I'd been on over 50 dates, and it was the first time anyone had complimented my appearance. I told her that she looked nice, too - and did she. Elissa is a contender for the Miss America title, and it couldn't have been more obvious why. In spite of that, she radiated the same sweetness that she showed online, and couldn't have been any more down-to-earth.

I had felt a little anxious in the minutes leading up to our meeting, but now that we had met and begun talking, I was at ease. I had practically nothing prepared in the way of conversation topics, but had so much confidence in my conversation skills that I was sure I wouldn't need any. I asked an obvious question or two that came to mind, and Elissa was just as talkative as she had been over e-mail.

The conversation moved easily from one topic to another, without even a hint of awkwardness. I was at such ease that I had no difficulty discussing her favorite things, even though I knew much less about them; the topic just didn't matter. I've never followed baseball closely, but we had a long discussion about it, with me making plenty of jokes and humorous comments. When I learned that she had a remarkable fondness for Abraham Lincoln, I had even more questions and jokes, even though I only knew a handful of facts about him. When she told me she'd read about 150 books about the 16th President, I leaned back, smiled, wagged my finger, and said something like, "You, my dear, are a scholar!" My relaxed, uninhibited nature was on full display. I asked if she was offended by people throwing away pennies - since they bare Abe Lincoln's image - and she was taken aback. She said I'd been making her think about things she should have thought of before.

Whenever Elissa mentioned something that we had in common, I said "me too," or something to that effect. Over the course of a long conversation, we learned that we had the same view on topics like abortion, the previous President, and Iraq. Her openness in mentioning political stances gave us a chance to find common ground we wouldn't have had any idea about if we had treated the topics as taboo. I told her that she was the first person I'd ever met who agreed with me about Iraq, and gave her a high-five. She mostly missed my hand, and asked to try it again; the second time was a success.

No one in the world could be more open than Elissa was with me. We'd met only within the past hour or two, yet she voluntarily divulged one personal fact after another. She told me four or five things about her life that are so personal I won't repeat them here, even though the blog is anonymous. After hearing the stories, I understood how she could be so down-to-earth and sweet, instead of having developed a huge ego during her days as a beauty pageant contestant.

Eventually, we were discussing dreams (a topic that she brought up naturally, even though it's on my old list of conversation topics), and she mentioned that she has insomnia and needed to take a sleeping pill by 11. I checked the time and told her that it was 10:15. She smiled and said, "Plenty of time!"

It had been obvious that we were both enjoying ourselves, but that comment confirmed it. Soon, her roommate, who had been at a restaurant next door, came over to our table, hugged Elissa, and apologized. She'd forgotten her keys.

I stood up, shook her hand, and introduced myself. When she apologized again for interrupting, I said, "We were just talking about how fabulous you are!"

The next time Elissa mentioned the time, she made sure I didn't think the sleeping pill was an excuse for leaving.

"Sorry, I don't mean to be... I had a really good time. I mean, I had a really good time."

I smiled and nodded as she spoke.

"You're nodding..."
"Yeah! Me too."

She smiled.

I said that I hadn't had a chance to beat her in Shuffleboard, and she suggested we do it next time.

When we reached her house, she thanked me, and reiterated that she'd had a great time.

I had never had a date anywhere near as intimate as with Elissa. We had found common beliefs in politics, and a common interest in writing about our lives. I bought her a pair of flowers, and she'd shared her iPod earbuds with me, and had even invited me to a political conference that her dad would also be attending. She'd already shared the most intimate details of her life with me, and had even fought off tears in front of me when telling me how her first dog had died in an accident last year.

I insisted on walking her to her door. It was a good thing I did, because her roommate hadn't yet returned home with the keys. She called her roommate Tracy - who had apparently missed the last bus - and I insisted that I didn't mind going to pick her up. Elissa apologized, saying that she felt bad and that I'd been so sweet all night.

I said it was no problem, and that it'd give me a chance to hear about her tattoos. Tracy was nearby, and the three of us were soon headed back to the house.

When I mentioned that we wouldn't be back by 11 for Elissa to take her pills, Tracy was in disbelief that her roommate had told me about her insomnia on the first date. Only half-kidding, she told Elissa that she should at least wait until the fourth date for that. It was nothing compared to the other things I'd learned about my date, but I simply joked that there were worse things.

After only a few minutes, we were back at the house. Elissa said that I didn't need to walk her up again, but I said, "Ah, let's go for broke!" and walked her up anyway. She again said that she'd had a really great time. Tracy mentioned something about the landlord moving a refrigerator, and Elissa explained the comment to me. I remarked to myself that I'd just met both of these people. It was absolutely amazing to think that I had just barely met her on eHarmony, and how much of a difference it made for her to have entered my life.

I stopped a few feet short of the door, and said, "Alright, Elissa."

She turned around, walked back towards me, and held out her arms wide. She grabbed me, giving me a great, big hug, and saying she'd talk to me soon.
________________

On the way home, I felt unusually sober. I knew logically that the night had been amazing. I knew that I had never met a sweeter person in 25 years of life, and I knew that I'd never been on a date like this one. Still, though, I told myself that I would keep myself together. I felt sober, and planned not to let feelings overwhelm me as they have too many times before.

Once I got home, an image of the date popped into my mind. Then another. Then a thought about Elissa, and another image. Now, I started to feel something. It was like the first minutes that you start to feel a tickle in your throat, and know that a cold is coming on. I knew that I'd caught the love bug, and started to feel everything that I'd thought on the way home. I felt that Elissa was the most amazing girl I'd ever met, and I felt that there couldn't be anyone else quite like her in this entire world.

As man learned millennia ago, the problem with this love bug is that its incredible power can, if not managed, do harm.

My next symptom was uncertainty. I started to dwell on possible imperfections in the date, contemplating what I should have said when she kept telling me how great of a time she was having. I then started anxiously trying to figure out when the best time would be to call her and ask her out again. What would be the best date? Would it be better to text her? Is two days long enough to wait? Would five be too long?!

After being distracted by the love bug for several hours at work, I checked my e-mail. Before the uncertainty kicked in, I'd been positive that she would e-mail me from work the next day; I already knew her well enough to be certain of that.

I just wanted to shoot you a quick note to thank you again for last night! I had a really great time! The flowers are nestled right under the Babe and he loved them! Hope you're having a great day!~ Elisa

It took me a solid hour to figure out the best three sentences with which to reply. I finally decided on just being myself and wrote, "I'm glad you had a really great time, because I did too :) " I'd never confessed my feelings about a date so strongly, and hoped that being open with her wouldn't hurt. I also invited her to a show on Sunday, and immediately started questioning whether the next day was too soon to suggest another date.

The love bug has struck again, but I'm going to do my best to manage the symptoms. This time, I'll follow Ashlley's advice from the beginning, and keep my options open by continuing to date and pursue other people.

It's my only hope.

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.
________________

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.
________________

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.
________________

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

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

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

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

"What's up, ladies?"

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

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

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

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

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

I talked to her.

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

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

".... and you are?"

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

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

I had thought of it in advance.

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

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

"Are you down here for school?"

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

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

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

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

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

Absolutely nothing.

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

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

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

"Rache!"

She looked up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm a software engineer."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I walked away, thinking of the possibilities.

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

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

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

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

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

Popularity is a long, long way from shyness.

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

Mission Confusion

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

Amazing.

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

And so I kept dating.

Date #49

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

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

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

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

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

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

Date #50

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

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

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

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

Starbucks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Date #51

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

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

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

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

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

And it never let up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

As soon as I arrived home, I deleted her number from my phone.
_______________

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

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

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

I checked my e-mail.

Super cool!!

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

Good meeting you finally, after a yearrrrrrr!!

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

B

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

Simple, powerful, and beautiful.

Date #48: Absolute Confidence

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I had decided to keep my options open.

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

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

Without a word, I walked out the door.