I have plans to hang with a girl later that night.
It takes me a while to get going, because because I’m home working all day. Finally get in the shower at 7 pm.
At 8 pm it suddenly hits me:
Oh shit. I didn’t go out to talk to women today.
Part of me thinks, who cares? I’m hanging out with this chick tonight. I’ll just relax today and then go out tomorrow.
But then I ask myself, “How important is this to me to do this?”
It’s really fucking important.
I call the girl and tell her I’d meet her an hour later. I put on my clothes and head out into the streets. Cuz I’m a champ like that.
It’s already dark at that point. Day game is better when it’s light out. But the fact that it’s dark, whatever, it’s better than nothing.
There’s not as many girls in Brooklyn where I live as there are in Manhattan. I think, what if I don’t find a girl?
I’m walking around and I can feel my heart start to race a little bit. I can feel my blood start to pump.
I am going to do a direct opener, I think to myself.
I see a girl who’s kind of cute. Her? Nah.
I keep walking and walking. Until I finally see this really cute girl in awesome boots.
I think “This is her.” I’m opening her.
The rush hits me. It’s a rush that you don’t necessarily get from going slowly into it.
My body starts to change. I get similar symptoms to anxiety. My heart starts to race a little bit.
But I know this feeling. I’m familiar with this feeling and it feels good.
It’s not huge and overwhelming where I feel like I’m going to die. Part of it’s that I’ve done it before. I’ve learned to enjoy it. It makes me feel good.
I stop her right before the crosswalk.
Especially when it’s dark, you don’t want to stop her in a really dark place. I wait until we were somewhere light to stop her.
I say, “Hey, this might seem kind of random, but just had to come tell you you’re really cute.”
A smile comes over her face as she says “Oh. Thank you!”
She’s a cute little artsy chick who’s visiting from Boston.
“I’m in New York doing research for an art class. My sister is meeting me.”
By the end of the interaction she tells me she’s going to some art galleries tomorrow. “Text me if you want to come.”
We exchanged numbers.
The hardest part, as is often the case for me now, is getting out. If I hadn’t gone out it wouldn’t have happened.