Now there has been some displeasure expressed here by ladies offput by badly delivered attempts to engage them.
First, let me apologize. If you were in the el paso area from 1991-94, I or one of my friends probably feature strongly in your horror stories when this topic comes up.
This was not unintentional.
But let me step back a bit. Start at the beginning and all that.
When I turned 21, and started going to clubs, I was not the overconfident blowhard you see before you. I was the booksmart geek long before "geek" carried any kind of power. And while I could easily run several 8 minute miles, and do push-ups all day, I was still not proud of my body, or my strength. This comes from being on a fort with 10000 other men, who as I did, considered this the barest minimum of fitness. At my best, I was never competitive for best, fastest, or strongest, and when I was young, I was either the best, or it didn't matter.
But, if you want to meet girls, basic math made it clear that off post was where they were, and where I needed to be to meet them.
As I said, geek. So friend networks were out. And just random approaches to random women on the street we're out. Nasal tone of voice from a lifetime of allergies and a nose that never worked right after the first time I had it broken. No gift of gab, too earnest, missing obvious social cues, and most importantly, I was fully aware of all of these shortcomings.
So, when the guys get to talking, and really, in the military that is most of what we do, eventually I start to put together a plan.
Go out with the guys, do what they do. Mimic success. This worked better in my head.
Turns out, going out, getting beers, and looking at the ladies from our table, is a horrible way to pick up women.
Turns out, the guys were mostly almost as bad at this as I was. The exception was Love. Not true love, but PFC Love. He wasn't stronger than me, he was shorter, and if he were the prettier man, it wasn't by much. But he was an inspiration. The man had no fear of rejection. None.
And over many a game of spades I did my damnedest to figure out how. It turns out to have been pretty much a combination of experience, (rejection loses its sting if you don't nurse the wound), confidence, and cocaine, but I didn't know about that third ingredient until much later. (It turned out, in the bars in the 90's, the best pick up lines were chopped on a mirror, but that's a different story.)
Eventually, we decided we needed to go out the next Saturday night, and pool $100 each, to be awarded to the guy who got shot down the hardest, as judged by everyone at the table, when we each approached our target of choice.
Having a bunch of guys critique your approach, and a pitcher of beer back at the table, and the excuse that you were trying for the pool money, was a great crutch, to help give the false impression of confidence. Plus, after a few beers, rejection stings a lot less.
And rejection is a constant. You ladies know this. There are times when you are waiting for someone, when you just wanted a drink, or you just wanted the attention from that other guy at the same table, not this guy with the crooked nose and mismatched eyes. I'm sure coming up with gentle ways to shoot me down took as much effort and discomfort as I had in making up and delivering introductions.
I give you ladies full credit. Most of the ladies I approached we're... polite in refusal. But if you think it's awkward getting hit on by a guy you aren't interested in, trust me, the other side of that experience is no more pleasant.
And I ran the full gamut. From the guy trying to talk over music so loud I couldn't hear myself, to the guy asking you to dance at the end of the night, who can barely walk himself.
So this is my apology, ladies. For my sins, for other's sins. In person, face to face, trying to catch your attention long enough to make a good impression, if one were available, or at least an impression, if a good one was out of reach.
You can't win if you don't play. And nobody starts out as a competitive player. Every guy you ever thought was awesome and cool, at one point had to work out his game. And he left a trail of confusion and rejection on his way to the place he is now. Some of us left a longer and wider trail than others, and I more than most.
I hope this tale of woe inspires a bit of compassion the next time a man puts you in the awkward position of rejecting him. Not for his sake but for yours. Yes, it's awkward. Yes, it's a hassle. But we are all getting better at what we are doing, and maybe, next time, he'll get it right with someone else. Maybe, next time, it'll be the right guy, with the rights moves. But he didn't start out as that guy.
But before you consider granting an exception to whatever rule you made up that precludes this guy in front of you, consider, when I look back, at the hundreds of rejections, the ones that make me smile today, are not the kind, gentle ones. No, the ones I remember best are the ladies who put no effort into lessening the impact. The ones looking to go back to work tomorrow with a story about how she put down that guy at the club. This isn't something I would recommend across the board, but sometimes, with the right backup, the spectacular drinks in his face rejection is exactly the right move. He may not appreciate it that night, but it may be in a post he writes in his 40's.