I Made the First Move! Kinda.
I don’t consider myself a terribly shy person – except when it comes to approaching men I find attractive. I’ll talk to anyone – in the grocery store, on the street, at the cemetery – unless it’s a man I’m really digging on. Then I’ll avert my eyes and pretend to be interested in anything but him.
Why? Simple. I am a big, fat pussy.
I truly feel for men, who are faced with the pressure of making the first move. My fear of the approach is so great that if I were a guy, I’d probably still be a virgin.
This really works against me because I live in LA, where women in general are quite aggressive. So aggressive, in fact, I think many of the men here have become lazy and just let women come to them.
Despite my fears, I’ve been trying to make some changes in my life, so Saturday night I made a sorta-kinda half-assed first move. It was a 10th grade move, mind you, but for me it was a big step.
I was at a local wine bar with a couple girlfriends, sitting at a table. I realize that parking ourselves at a table isn’t the best way to meet men, because it closes us off in our own private circle and makes it intimidating for men to initiate a conversation. But we couldn’t feasibly drink pinot noir and eat $12 grilled cheese sandwiches standing up.
“I’ve had a crush on you since we met. Couldn’t you tell, the way I was ignoring you?”
- Amanda, from Woody Allen’s “Anything Else”
I spotted a cutie across the room. He had a handsome face, olive skin and was wearing a beanie-type cap. My friends refused to get up and circulate with me (wingwoman fail), so I just stared at him. But he never glanced our way.
Soon thereafter, my friend wanted to leave. She suggested I just go over and give Beanie Boy my number, and naturally, I looked at her like she was a crackhead. Like a true pal, she wrote my number on a cocktail napkin and offered to give it to him for me. My response: “NO! NO! Don’t you dare!” Besides, Beanie Boy had received a phone call and stepped outside.
The Smooth Move
We paid the check and walked out, and Beanie Boy was still outside on the phone. When we were a safe three-quarters of a block away, I did something very daring. I turned to my friend and said, “OK… go ahead.” She ran back to give it to him while I ran the other way and hid behind a giant palm.
One of my finest adult moments, indeed.
We scurried back to the car, giggling like schoolgirls. And you know what? He texted me. We texted back and forth all day and it’s the weirdest thing ever, but it’s fun.
My next goal is to attempt a bona fide, face-to-face approach with a man. The thought of it makes me want to vomit, but I’ve been doing a lot of Big Girl things lately, and I’m not going to stop at hiding behind a plant.