A story about a guy who made a move on his dream girl...
I found her: my dream girl. It was love at first sight, if such a thing exists. She sat at a crowded bar in Los Angeles with two of her girlfriends. She was gorgeous― an angel in her own right. Now, I'd like to point out I'm not the kind of guy who hits on random girls at a bar. Merely the thought of talking to a pretty girl is enough to make my stomach hurt. But I had to say something.
"I would be angry with myself if I left without talking to her," I told my friends. They taunted and prodded me until I agreed to approach to her. But what should I say? How do you stand out from the other 500,000 single males in the city? Being a guy is tough sometimes.
You’re supposed to display confidence, but not be a douche bag. You're supposed to flirt, but not be a creep. And you're supposed to make the first move.
I finally gathered enough courage (read: drank enough beer) to make my approach.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation, but I just wanted to say that I think you're an
"I'm Chad," I said while extending my hand. She shook it. Electricity flowed from her fingertips into mine, up my arm, and into my chest. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins. Before she could tell me her name, I asked if I could play her a song. She looked confused but nodded yes.
So I pulled out the black bamboo flute I had hidden up my sleeve.
Backtrack― I bought the flute an hour earlier from an 80-year-old man named "Rasta P" in the parking lot of Home Depot for $11. Also worth noting: I don't know how to play the flute.
Looking into her eyes, I pressed the flute to my lips and blew away. And I blew hard. A mix of hollow tones and screeching notes filled the bar. Drunk dudes watched in awe as I serenaded my darling with an ear-splitting cacophony. After what seemed like a lifetime, she started laughing. I had done it. Mission accomplished.
"You're a good sport," I told her. I offered a hug, which she accepted. "I'll be sitting in that corner if you want to come talk to me."
A huge smile crossed my face as I walked back to my friends at our table. They laughed hysterically while I explained the genius of my plan. See, I knew if she had a good sense of humor she'd come up to my table, I'd buy her a drink, and we would inevitably live happily ever after. If she didn't, then fuck her. I wouldn't want to date a girl like that anyway (or so I had convinced myself).
Five minutes passed and I saw her look at me from across the room. Her friends glanced over. The three of them giggled. My lady stood up and walked directly towards my table.
She was 20 feet away.
10 feet away.
I stood up.
I prepared for a warm embrace and imagined a lifetime of companionship. She walked past my table and out of the bar.
I sat down in silence.
Despite my best efforts, I had failed miserably. But you know what? It was okay. The rejection surprisingly gave me more confidence than I had before. I've come to accept that I'll surely be rejected a hundred more times before finding "the one." Maybe it will be another random girl at a bar, and maybe she'll like my silly jokes more than this girl did. I still go back to the same bar and hope to see her there― not to ask her out again, but to thank her for making me take a different look at dating.
I never did catch her name.
-Chad Bailey; 24, Los Angeles
Follow Chad on Twitter @Chadmander64
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Photo Source: NYTimes