The Brink

During the past few days, my mind has been inundated with thoughts about all that my life has become. I had prophetically written about each and every key moment of the mission as a turning point, foreseeing the dramatic changes to come. First, there was the Death of Inhibition, which led to a slew of new milestones. Only a month later, I declared the Beginning of the End, feeling that my need to struggle had been assuaged. Early this year, I wrote of the Middle of the End, knowing for sure that my days of merely ordinary social ability were numbered: I would soon be heroic.

Now, after four days during which I'd done so much that once seemed impossible - being so irresistible to my date that I felt sure no better man lived; being the life of several parties; entertaining a close friend who loves me; effortlessly making new friends; confidently picking up women so easily that I had too many (six) to call; kissing a beautiful girl, and being kissed passionately by two others - I felt as if I were the world's prince, adored by most and destined for greatness.

I knew that the final turning point had arrived.

As evidenced by the perhaps hundreds of thousands of words that have been written here, I have never omitted so much detail about my experiences. While the past weekend was without doubt the best of my life, the details will for now remain private. At this turning point, I must finally allow myself to experience as ordinary those things that to me will always be remarkable. Thirty-eight days from the second anniversary of my mission's beginning, I stand at the brink of successfully completing one of the great undertakings in the history of mankind.

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.

Date #55: A Hero's Roar

When I got ready to call Rayna, I felt a little anxious. Perhaps that was understandable, since it would be the first time I'd ever called a girl after asking for her number in person. What would it be like? Would she answer? Would she remember me by name alone? As my anxiety grew, I thought momentarily about not calling at all.

Finally, I ignored the anxiety and dialed the number. As usual when calling someone, there was no answer, and I left no message. I figured I would try calling again in a couple days.

To my surprise, she called back a few minutes later. I told her it was J - without explaining where we'd met - and she obviously knew who I was. I considered remembering me by name alone to be a necessary sign of interest, and it was a relief to receive it from Rayna.

I asked what she was up to, and it turned out she was about to head out to another club. I half-jokingly told her I was impressed that she was going out to party on a Thursday night, and followed up by asking if she had to work the next day. I was finding it easy to move from one topic to another, and learned that she worked at a non-profit organization in the city.

More interesting was the fact that she'd been to a dance class earlier that night. I told her that I'd just gotten home from a dance class, too, and suddenly, we had something interesting in common to talk about. It was such a great coincidence that I couldn't believe I thought even for a moment about not calling. After five or six minutes, I said I'd let her head out to the club with her friend, and asked if she wanted to get together for coffee next week. She said she'd have to check her schedule, and to give her a call.

A few days later, I sent a text asking if she would be free Wednesday night. She responded that she wasn't sure, and that it depended on how much work she'd get done Monday and Tuesday. I knew from experience not to be a chump and accept any tentative dates, so I texted back that maybe we'd get together sometime when her schedule was more certain.

For almost two weeks, I didn't hear a word from Rayna. I'd decided that the ball was in her court, and that I wouldn't fall into the trap of chasing her as I did with a few girls in the early days of the mission.

As I drove one Saturday afternoon, for some reason I started thinking about Rayna. I realized that I'd practically forgotten about her entirely for a few days. I figured that it would be a waste to just delete her number, so I reasoned that I should try to be friends with her if she weren't interested. I then started planning the text message that I would send as soon as I reached my destination. I would say, "Hey Rayna, I met someone, but lets hang out as friends sometime. I'm going to dance at Diamond tonight, let me know if you want on the guest list."

I planned every word, and was less than two minutes away from my destination. As I prepared to make the final turn before the parking lot where I'd send the text message, my phone rang.

Amazingly, it was Rayna. I hadn't heard from her in almost two weeks, and now she was calling at the exact moment I was thinking about her. She was calling three minutes before I would have put her thoroughly in the proverbial friends zone.

I refrained from telling her the amazing fact that I was literally in the process of thinking about her, for the first time in days, when she called. She said that she'd been in Miami for work, which gave me plenty to talk about since I'd recently been there for vacation. I joked easily, feeling extra confident in light of the rare situation in which a woman had called me.

I talked to her once again a week later, noticing that our conversations had become progressively easier, with more and more to say each time. I decided that she was so easy to talk to that there was no need for the usual hour at Starbucks. I asked if she wanted to get some food Wednesday night, and she accepted the dinner date.
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Finally, it was happening. I had seen a woman I was interested in, talked to her, gotten her phone number, called her, asked her out, and was about to share a meal with her. At last, I had proven that I didn't need Internet services to get dates.

As I waited for Rayna in the restaurant,I knew that I was about to put an important theory to the test. I had always thought that I would have much more success dating women I'd met in person, since they wouldn't be curiously talking to and dating other purported "matches" for whom they'd paid. Not only that, but basic attraction and interest had already been established, in contrast to the you-never-know blind date.

Besides the fact that I'd met Rayna the traditional way, I had already decided that this would be the start of something new with my dating. I'd realized that with all of the dates that didn't work out, I would have done things differently had I known I'd never see the girl again. Why wouldn't I take the risk, for example, of getting physical if I would never see the person again anyway? It may not have changed things with Autumn, but I certainly could have experienced an open-mouth kiss with her, had I not been too conservative. (I'm almost 26, still looking for these firsts!) So many relationships had failed to work out that now I would treat every date as if I knew it would be my last. With this nothing-to-lose mindset, I planned to have more fun than ever.

Finally, she arrived. She gave me a hug, and said it was good to see me again.

So that was how a non-blind first date started. Not so different after all.

She said she hoped I hadn't been waiting too long. Instead of being overly nice, I said with just the faintest bit of sarcasm, "Just since 8," the time we were supposed to meet. When we spoke on the phone for the first time, I had noticed something about the tone of the conversation. It was as if she were more confident, and thought she was more knowledgeable than I. Perhaps neither of those things was entirely false, since I was the one pursuing her, and since she's 4 year my senior. Now, though, I began to feel more dominant.

After a few obvious questions, I asked Rayna a question I'd thought of in advance. She was a vegan, so I wondered whether she'd be able to find anything on the menu at a regular restaurant. The simple question gave us lots to talk about, including everything from relating my experiences as a semi-vegetarian, to my vegetarian sister, to her family's culture of eating meat, and so on. This all inevitably looks boring in text, but Rayna and I were having a great time while talking about this one topic alone. I made vegan jokes throughout the night ("At least no one had to die for that broccoli!"), and the situation was naturally humorous as she hopelessly questioned the waiter, who told her one item after another was made with some type of animal product.

It had been a solid two months since I'd been on a date, but I was as great as ever. We talked at length about dancing and other things we had in common, and I took an interest in her stories about travel to Europe and other things I haven't experienced. I effortlessly kept her smiling and laughing throughout dinner by doing nothing more than being myself. It was the self that had developed outstanding conversation skills over the course of 54 dates and a life-changing mission.

As Rayna happily continued talking after we'd both finished eating, I noticed the beautiful smile I had seen we we met outside the nightclub. I knew that I, like our evening together, had been absolutely flawless, and I knew I wanted to kiss her.

She seemed content to talk all night, so I finally asked if she was ready to head out. It must have been near closing time, because the parking lot had all but cleared. I kept talking, but was now paying little attention as all I could think about was my new philosophy and her exquisite lips.

After opening the door for Rayna, I put on some chapstick as we talked. I had never kissed on a first date, and had always thought I should do so at my date's doorstep. In the past I wouldn't have even considered it, but for all I knew, this could be the last minute Rayna and I would ever be together. I had decided to live without anything to regret should that turn out to be the case.

We reached her car.

She thanked me for dinner and gave me a hug. Somehow, it was different from others past. I wasn't merely going through the motions of hugging her with my mind elsewhere, but rather was in the moment, and looked down at her while I held her, gently brushing my lips against her head.

When the embrace ended, I moved a little closer and gave her a short, sweet kiss on the lips. She started giggling, mumbling something like " I don't even know you...." I stood and smiled as it took me a moment to process what she meant. She then said smiling, "A hug is cool..."

She apparently didn't want me to think that she was somehow easy. I knew the fact of the matter was that she could have avoided the kiss, but that there was absolutely no way she could resist me. I continued smiling, and told her to have a good night. With the smile still on her face, she exclaimed, "Talk to you soon!!"

As I drove home, I let out a chest-thumping roar. I had now seen a woman I was interested in, talked to her, gotten her phone number, called her, asked her out, kept her laughing for nearly two hours during dinner, effortlessly made myself completely irresistible, and kissed her in a public place at the end of only our first date. I had made good on my personal assertion that my opponent, who danced with Rayna the night I met her, had absolutely no chance as long as I was interested.

Early the next morning, I received a text at work.

Thank you for dinner last night. I had a great time - talk to you soon.

The end draws nearer.

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.
________________

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.