All throughout adolescence and a good part of my adulthood I was painfully shy. If I had the opportunity to address an attractive woman, I would usually just keep my mouth shut; if I said anything at all it would invariably sound inane and inappropriate to my ears and embarrass the hell out of me.
No longer. These days I am, as they say, a silver-tongued devil. I not only kissed the Blarney Stone, I took it to orgasm. Four times. Now, when I address an attractive woman, I am the wittiest conversationalist I can possibly imagine. “Glib” and “facile” are words that leap to mind when I reflect upon my ability in this regard. All of this is a result of a dramatic change in attitude that I had at some point – I decided I didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought about what I said and from then on I would simply say whatever the hell I wanted to. The arrogance implant I had didn’t hurt, either.
Having said that, at one point my pal Unca Don and I were both working in
Of course, as with all arrogant people, I eventually had my comeuppance. Unca Don and I were sitting in a small bar on Queen Street in downtown
Now there are two words that could have been created specifically to describe me at this exact point in time: ‘dumbstruck’ and ‘poleaxed’. My brain flatly refused to believe that this totally hot woman would come in off the street and start flirting with me. “That’s it,” said my brain. “I’m out of here until reality starts up again.”
Don later said he thought to himself at this point, “Here we go. This will be like shooting fish in a barrel for Hulles.” As a few moments went by, however, he noticed my stricken look, and incredulously heard me say:
And silence reigned.
At this point, Don figured out that I was completely stunned by this whole thing, and began struggling hard not to laugh at my obvious discomfort.
This plucky woman was not to be deterred so easily, however. After a couple of minutes of uncomfortable silence, she looked at the Belgian bottle in my hand and said, “How’s the beer?”
“Good,” I replied.
After a few minutes more of silence, she turned and walked out of my life forever.
Freed from restraint, my putative pal Unca Don began rolling on the floor laughing.at me. Me, I just sat there and quietly whimpered until my brain turned back on. Color me chastened.
I felt then, and feel now, that such an incredible event as this beautiful stranger walking in off the street to chat me up will never happen to me again. But if it does, I’m ready. I have about 20 Porsche lines prepared, and I’ll buy her as many Belgian beers as she wants if I have to steal from church collection plates to do it.
Come back, dear. I’m better now.