July 2007

My hands are shaking, I can barely type right now. I knew what had to be done, but my mind held back, it over analyzed and then… it blew a fuse. I had nothing.

one hour ago…

I’m out to lunch, dining in a small sandwich shop. I glance up from my newspaper to see the cutest, most beautiful woman I’ve seen in a long time. She doesn’t have the look of a model but she does have something that I don’t see in most women. I can’t put my finger on it, but I see it in her eyes. There is a fire in there, a passion. I can’t look away.

She looks over. We make eye contact. This is when I should say something, but I don’t. I just smile.

She sits down at the nearest table facing in my direction. She sets up the logistics perfectly, all I need to do is take action. I need to say something.

Normally, I would just say, “hi” and go from there, but something is stopping me. Is it fear? Perhaps. Or, perhaps it is some type of inhibition. Perhaps, I should have read Disco’s post before lunch. Whatever it is, it’s holding me back.

I sit there pretending to read my paper, making quick glances over. My body is beginning to turn to Jello. Her pheromones are drifting across the table, into my nostrils and attacking my nerve endings. I think I’m going to vomit.

I can’t do this. I need to leave before I lose control of my bodily functions. I carefully stand, take one more glance and leave.

Walking back to my office, it begins. The regret. The “what ifs” are swirling around in my head. I need to stop dwelling on the lack of action, but I can’t. I just blew it…ugh.

What would you do? What would you say? How do you overcome the resistance, the fear and the inhibition?

I’m standing in a small dive downtown, the place is packed and there are beautiful women all around. A waitress magically clears a pathway through the crowd as if she were Moses parting the Red Sea.

“You boys need another round?” she asks.

“Oh hi. We definitely need another round. Bring us your finest cans of PBR please.” I say with a big grin.

She roles her eyes as she disappears back into the crowd.

I take a quick survey of the room to see if I can lock eyes with any women. There is a nearby group of Irish men all surrounding a cute looking girl with amazing legs, we’ll call her Linda Legs. I can barely see her face between the bulky guys facing her. Her eyes scan over to meet mine. I smile at her. Her face brightens up before turning back to her friends.

I turn to chat some more with my friends just as our ice cold beers arrive.

“Oh there she is, best damn waitress in town!” I blurt out.

The waitress gives me a menacing glare, obviously not amused by my flirting. I pay her and leave a big tip before she leaves again.

I am about to sip on my beer when I notice Linda Legs saddling up to our group. She begins introducing herself one by one to all of my friends. She is clearly not shy as she begins striking up conversations with everyone but me. Finally, she works her way over and we are now face to face. I hold out my hand to introduce myself, but rather than shake it, she grabs my fingers and raises it to her lips, kissing my hand. Hmm, Interesting.

“Hi. Nice to meet you. What’s your name?” I say with curiosity

“Linda. You?”

“Matt”

“Hi Matt. You know what? We should have a dance-off!” she exclaims

This Linda is something else. She assumes attraction and rapport as if she were a pick-up artist. Holy shit, I think I’m being picked-up!

Linda grabs my hand again and twirls me around. Unbelievable, this is my move! I think I’ve just met the female version of me. She is fun and interesting, but it takes two to tango.

I take control and begin moving her around in my own seductive brand of dance. This is tricky as our space is limited to a 3 ft. x 6 ft. area of floor, which is doubling as a major passageway to the bar. We manage to make due, despite bumping into everyone within an arm’s length and knocking several beers to the floor.

“Wow, you dance really well, what do you call this?” Linda says

“Umm, it’s called the Tango de la Muerte”

“What does that mean?”

“The tango of death,” I say in my best Latin accent, “Is so sexy, it kill you!”

“Oh my god, you are sooo cute!” she says while quickly grabbing a handful of my right ass cheek which causes me to jump in surprise.

“Lets dance more.” she demands

I agree, however, am getting a big ego at this point. To impress her even more, I make a lame attempt at some crazy triple axis flying dragon spin. The result isn’t pretty.

As I furiously spin around in a circle, I lose my footing and accidentally do a face plant into the rather large breasts of our waitress. Oh shit. I look up into her face waiting to feel her wrath.

“Heh, you are something else, aren’t you?” she says with a smirk

“Uh, yes ma’am.” I respond

She smiles and moves along. Then suddenly I feel a hand tugging at the back of my shirt. I turn around to see Linda and her big Irish friends. It looks as though they are leaving.

“You’re leaving?” I ask

“Yea, it was nice meeting you though” she says

She plants a big wet lingering kiss right on my lips and then she is dragged away by a very unhappy man.

Wait a second, I should get her number or something.

“Wait!” I shout, but it is too late, she is gone.

Unfortunately, the Tango de la Muerte has claimed yet another victim, me.

It’s the bottom of the eighth and the Sox are down by one. We are losing but there is still a good chance that Big Pappi will hit one out in the ninth. The inning is just about over, when all around a bunch of people get up to leave. Not leave for the bathroom or to gorge on a Fenway Frank but to leave the stadium. What the hell is wrong with these people?

Why is it that at every sporting event there are always those people who leave just before the most exciting and suspense filled parts of the game? Most want to beat the crowd or the traffic. Some just want to get back home for some reason. I find this a bizarre behavior, especially considering the costs of attending a game at Fenway Park. Seriously, if you are going to commit to something worthwhile, why not just live in the moment and stick it out until the end?

This behavior is like approaching a beautiful woman, talking to her for a few minutes and then ejecting from the conversation for no reason. Sure maybe you were down by one, the conversation wasn’t going so well, but what if…what if…your Big Pappi steps up and hits one out of the park. Then, by simply sticking it out until the end you have the potential to win a night with a beautiful woman. Even if you lose it, at least you know you did everything you could, rather than spend eternity wondering, “what if?”.

It is now the bottom of the ninth, two outs, still down by one and Pappi steps up to the plate. The crowd goes wild. This could be it.

“PAPPI…PAPPI…PAPPI…,” the crowd chants.

Big Pappi hits it down the line to single. The Sox are still alive. Now Manny comes up with a chance to win it.

Ball one. Ball two….then… he pops it to left field.

The crowd gasps. The ball is caught. The game is over.

Despite the lose, I’m glad I stuck it out until the end. There was always that rush of excitement and that chance of an amazing win. Just like when I am approaching women, I need to remember to stick it out, to keep pushing the envelope, and to live in the moment. You just never know when something amazing will happen in the end.

It is dark. We are in the middle of nowhere. The only visible light is coming from the camp fire that we now encircle. Of the fifteen people in our clan only three are single females. I don’t think it a coincidence that the three women are all sitting next to me, all happily engaged in my storytelling. The remaining group is composed of gun toting, testosterone driven, young men.

Now that I have my three little birds captivated it becomes clear to me that during the last four days of camping I have emerged as the alpha male. Though not the biggest or toughest of the men I did do one thing that my peers did not; I created rapport. So much so, that by the end of the night, one of these women will be waiting for me in my tent, in my sleeping bag and in the nude…

Tall Tammy

A former collegiate basketball player, Tammy is quite tall with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Though pretty, her true attractiveness comes from her sense of humor. She was the first person I met while arriving at the camp site. We hit it off immediately while helping each other set up our tents and were instantly flirting with our similarly witty styles of comedy. By the second day we created a secret gummy worm pact which became a running joke for the remainder of the trip.

Sultry Samantha

The youngest of the girls, Samantha, a city girl who was not even remotely interested in the whole camping thing. Her detachment from nature can be best illustrated by the fact that she brought two suitcases of clothes and a rather large make-up box on a four day camping trip. Despite being out of touch with the country side she eventually lightened up after some persistent flirting and some tutelage on basic camping etiquette. And on day three the sexual innuendos became so great that we kissed under the waterfall while swimming in the nearby river.

Sad Sarah

The opposite of Sultry Samantha, Sarah, a country girl is your typical girl next door. She has long dark hair, a dark complexion and an often sad face. I’m not sure why she looked sad most of the time but I made it my mission to make her smile as much as possible. Cheering her up took some work but eventually it was the simple acts of compassion that made the difference. When everyone else would be drinking booze, I would make hot cocoa for the two of us. When the rest of the savages where shooting chipmunks, I took her for a hike up a nearby mountain. I think she enjoyed these things. At the very least, I made her smile.

…The giant blaze in the center of circle is now dwindling. I can barely see the remaining few who haven’t retired for the night. I announce that I am pooped and will go to bed. Forgetting my flashlight I carefully make my way back to my tent in the soft glow of the fire.

As I unzip the door and begin to pull my body inside, I hear someone waking up in my sleeping bag.

“Who’s in my tent?” I say

“Oh hey, sorry. I hope you don’t mind but I wanted to sleep in here tonight, is that ok?” a girl whispers.

I move closer and get a faint look at who it is.

“Um, yea it’s ok,” I reply, “as long as you don’t mind sharing a sleeping bag.”

“No, come on in” says Samantha as she lifts the covers to reveal her naked body.

I undress myself and climb in.