Real Smooth Moves

For most of my life, my strategy concerning wooing girls was this: don't talk to them. I didn't mean it in an aloof, playing hard-to-get way, but in a "seriously, don't even bother talking to them" kind of way. Why?

I was a pretty goofy kid. Definitely not the best looking nor socially skilled boy at school, or anywhere close for that matter.

So I'd develop these ridiculous crushes. They weren't on the normal girls, the girls at school that would maybe even talk to me. I always crushed pretty high on the social ladder. I suppose this was more or less normal--after all, there's a reason why these people were always the popular people (in my case-- popular "girls"). I found out that these calibre of girls wouldn't have really talked to me regardless (again, me= not suave).

So I didn't try.

No matter what, I'd always do this. I crushed hard and fast as a kid. I went to camp because I liked to sing the songs and I liked the girls. By the second day I had picked out a "camp crush" that I would inevitably dread the last day in which she'd leave camp and my life forever. (Shelby Something from Somewhere, Kansas, you're still in my heart). Always admiring from afar, I'd never meant anything to all these girls that meant everything to me.

I did this in college. For freshman orientation, I did what every other guy (and most girls) do: scope out the new scenery. I was in a completely new environment where I could reinvent myself and become everything I always wanted to be(Oops. . . I knew I forgot to do something). I was surrounded by girls (many of whom were pretty good looking) who probably loved Jesus just as much as I did (probably more). There was a girl that I found pretty attractive. She was shorter, brunette (what I generally consider my "type") and kinda "punky" in style (which, if executed correctly, can be very attractive even if you're not "punky" yourself). I was behind her family in the line in the caf and saw her a couple of times over the next two days.

Then she disappeared.

She was gone. What happened? Did she drop out already? Our school was small enough that you usually see everybody at some point. But no, not her, she was gone. It soon hit me what the deal was. She wasn't a student.

She was somebody's little sister.

I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how awkward I felt on so many levels. (In my defense, she came to school the next year, so it's not like she was someone's really little sister.)

There was a time where I decided my plan wasn't working for me (recap: don't talk to girls). There was a girl that I talked to in a class that was a chore to sit through everyday [Let's call her Jen). We made each other laugh (well, she made me laugh, at least) and she was beautiful, so I thought, "why not?" I began scheming how I'd make this happen (I learn from the best, Barrett). One night I went to the movies with three friends of mine. On the way, I told my friend [let's call her Kris] about Jen (remember, this is what we're calling her) and I had this amazing, earth-shattering idea.

"Why don't you, in some discreet way, find out what she thinks about me." This seemed like a good idea at the time. Wrong.

The four of us were standing around the lobby of the theater waiting for our show to start seating when somebody walks in the door with her sister. Who? Jen, of course! So Kris, in a shocking display of schemery sees an open window for her to make good on our deal.

The four of us nodded a curt greeting to Jen and her sister and Kris pulled Jen into the bathroom with a squeal.

Oh no. I remember thinking.

This can't be good.

They were in there for a few minutes, then came back out. Jen seemed a bit more estranged than normal. She didn't say anything to me and I was afraid to volunteer a conversation. So the two parties separated and went to their respective movies. Later on I asked Kris about the scene she had caused. She seemed a little embarrassed when she told me that she asked Jen what she thought about me. Just like that.

She really jumps in.

Apparently Jen never really responded. She merely gasped in confusion and asked a simple "What?". I think maybe a couple of lights flickered somewhere as Kris realized what she had done. She let it go and tried to play it off but it was too late; she had already showed my hand.

Hmm. Not my definition of discreet. It did accomplish the goal, though. I realized that Jen didn't think anything about me and I shouldn't bother pursuing anything. Or talking to girls anymore, for that matter.

I did start dating in eighth grade. Except for a few cases, I've stuck pretty close to my original plan. I do talk to girls now, but never about relationships. My seven year old self would be proud of the 23 year old me. Still sticking to my guns.