After a thorough and smirk-heavy research gathering, it was time to walk that devastatingly smooth walk. First step: Acquire target. Find luckiest guy in the room. Surveying the crowd, the following studs caught my eye:
Bachelor No. 1: Bleached, spiked hair. He wore a deep V-neck, revealing chest hair and a wooden tiki necklace. At least 65 and presumably enjoying his three-quarter-life crisis.
Bachelor No. 2: Sported indoor sunglasses and a sweater cape. The glasses were probably for his own protection, to keep women from falling in love with him upon looking into his eyes. So I thank you for sparing me that, sir.
It’s a tricky business, picking the right person to whisper sweet nothings to. There were plenty of creepy options available, lots of guys hanging out in corners working on their smolders. There were nice, normal looking guys too, but the idea of using a pick-up line on one of them wasn’t making me scared enough. And I didn’t want to cheat you guys.
And then I spotted him — TGH. (Tall, ginger and handsome for those of you not hip to my lingo.) He was just intimidating enough to make me legitimately nervous. I aimed a bright smile his way and it was promptly intercepted by a third party guy who slid in out of nowhere. “Hey,” he said, while TGH slipped away. After a couple more such instances and lost opportunities, doubt tiptoed in.
There’s this certain spunk it takes to utter corny pick-up lines. A pluck I was starting to wonder if I had. I was very tempted to shrug and say, “Well, I tried. Maybe we call it a night, regroup, try next weekend?” Or, “I could take a stab at it the day after never?” But I didn’t go out alone. I’d brought with me friends who were both supportive and more than willing to give me crap.
I usually take being made fun of with a certain level of calm. But, like many self-respecting three year olds, I cannot handle it when people insinuate that I am a scaredy cat.
And so, not at all theatrically, I slapped my fist on the table and marched off to embarrass myself. And while searching for TGH, I felt very much like Harry Potter trudging into the Forbidden Forest after learning he was a horcrux. (If you didn’t understand that reference, I’m not sure I want you reading my column.) It was only a matter of time before I surrendered myself to humiliation.
Finally, I took my moment and in that instance of decision, fear took its leave.
“Did you eat Lucky Charms this morning?” I asked, “Because you look magically delicious.” TGH laughed, and it sparked a nice conversation, during which I explained about the column. While there was no love connection there (he hadn’t actually seen some of my favorite screenwriter’s work) I would do it again.
Life’s too short not to seek out the ridiculous. As Gandhi almost said, “Be the wacky you want to see in the world.”After a thorough and smirk-heavy research gathering, it was time to walk that devastatingly smooth walk. First step: Acquire target. Find luckiest guy in the room. Surveying the crowd, the following studs caught my eye:
Bachelor No. 1: Bleached, spiked hair. He wore a deep V-neck, revealing chest hair and a wooden tiki necklace. At least 65 and presumably enjoying his three-quarter-life crisis.
Bachelor No. 2: Sported indoor sunglasses and a sweater cape. The glasses were probably for his own protection, to keep women from falling in love with him upon looking into his eyes. So I thank you for sparing me that, sir.
It’s a tricky business, picking the right person to whisper sweet nothings to. There were plenty of creepy options available, lots of guys hanging out in corners working on their smolders. There were nice, normal looking guys too, but the idea of using a pick-up line on one of them wasn’t making me scared enough. And I didn’t want to cheat you guys.
And then I spotted him — TGH. (Tall, ginger and handsome for those of you not hip to my lingo.) He was just intimidating enough to make me legitimately nervous. I aimed a bright smile his way and it was promptly intercepted by a third party guy who slid in out of nowhere. “Hey,” he said, while TGH slipped away. After a couple more such instances and lost opportunities, doubt tiptoed in.
There’s this certain spunk it takes to utter corny pick-up lines. A pluck I was starting to wonder if I had. I was very tempted to shrug and say, “Well, I tried. Maybe we call it a night, regroup, try next weekend?” Or, “I could take a stab at it the day after never?” But I didn’t go out alone. I’d brought with me friends who were both supportive and more than willing to give me crap.
I usually take being made fun of with a certain level of calm. But, like many self-respecting three year olds, I cannot handle it when people insinuate that I am a scaredy cat.
And so, not at all theatrically, I slapped my fist on the table and marched off to embarrass myself. And while searching for TGH, I felt very much like Harry Potter trudging into the Forbidden Forest after learning he was a horcrux. (If you didn’t understand that reference, I’m not sure I want you reading my column.) It was only a matter of time before I surrendered myself to humiliation.
Finally, I took my moment and in that instance of decision, fear took its leave.
“Did you eat Lucky Charms this morning?” I asked, “Because you look magically delicious.” TGH laughed, and it sparked a nice conversation, during which I explained about the column. While there was no love connection there (he hadn’t actually seen some of my favorite screenwriter’s work) I would do it again.
Life’s too short not to seek out the ridiculous. As Gandhi almost said, “Be the wacky you want to see in the world.”
