Monday, September 26, 2005

Pizza girl

One time when I was about 19 yrs old, I was hanging out with a guy I knew (older brother of a girl I later had a disastrous date with, but that's another long-ago blog post). We were having lunch at a pizza place. The waitress was college age, personable, and seriously hot. After lunch, I asked her for her phone number. Which was an odd thing to do, since at that time I did not date outside my church. So I'm not sure why I did it, really. Okay, I do know, and it was a couple of things:

1) I had heretofore in my life been painfully shy, dorky-looking, and socially backward. Girls had no use for me, and I had no idea how to talk to them. I had not even had a real date until I was 18. Asking a girl -- especially one that was so hot she was practically on fire -- for her phone # was about as far out of my range as flapping my arms and flying to the moon. So partly I asked Little Blonde Hottie Hood for her number just to prove I could.

2) I was showing off for my buddy. Because we'd both been pretty impressed from the moment she appeared at our table. So it was kind of a male competitiveness thing, like saying, "You may have liked her, but *I* got her number."

Which was all fine, except that she actually gave it to me. In my haste I had neglected to consider what would be required if I actually *obtained* the number.

What happened of course, is that now I had to call her. So I did. And asked her to dinner or maybe a movie or something, I don't remember what. Which she said was fine.

But then she called later and said she was really tired after work, and did I maybe just want to come to her apartment and hang out. And when I got there I realized I was seriously out of my depth. I did not drink/party, and I had no idea how to make small talk, and I was not sexually active (not that I'd had that much opportunity, to be honest, but it was still a deliberate choice on my part).

So I sat across from her and we chatted and she had wine and I had a glass of water and figured out that I was not the right man for this particular job. Since I wasn't going to try to close the deal, I didn't really know what else to say, so I finished my water and went home.

3 Comments:

At Tue Sep 27, 09:54:00 PM PDT, Blogger No_Newz said...

Hey, I know that chick! She wound up doing some crazy Erik guy. Didn't she?! ;)
Lois Lane

 
At Wed Sep 28, 11:18:00 AM PDT, Blogger blogball said...

This reminds me of some opportunities I had in my younger days. (Not a lot)
I wouldn’t exactly call them missed opportunities because I have no regrets.
I do sometimes think with the knowledge and experience I have now. (Not a lot)what it would have been like if I was more promiscuous back then or what some people might call normal.

My imagination has me taking her to a place she never thought possible.
This is a much better memory to have (even though it’s far fetched) than one with regrets.

This is one of the benefits of being celibate or waiting for the right time.

 
At Fri Oct 14, 10:22:00 AM PDT, Anonymous si said...

(Decided to go ahead & post this comment.) So, you never used to get “hit on”, huh? Well, I always knew there was more to the story than that. Just keep dredging those memories -- they’ll keep coming back to you. At least you called (unlike some guys…oh wait, you probably didn’t know the rule that the guy *says* he’ll call but never has any intention of doing so. :-)).

 

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