Thoughts

I have spent a long time trying to decide how to title this post. Many different possibilities went through my head. "Blew it." "Worst of all time." "Duuuuuude." "What a let down." "Ashamed." And the worst of all, "Regret."

Let me set the scene. There is a bar in town that I have enjoyed for some time now. Good times, bad times, I still like this place. I have liked it even more for the past few weeks as there has been this girl there. Yes, I did say that she has been there over the past few weeks, and seeing as how this is the first post I have made in regards to her, you know it is not a positive one.

I find that technically I am beyond stalker status. I know that she is only there one night a week, either Friday or Saturday. I have not seen her there both nights. I also know that I am not good at making the approach. This is a point that I am sure you have deduced from my making this post after saying she has been seen at said watering hole for an extended period of time. I have even gone to the point of trying to be there both nights so as to overlap on the night in which she is there. Wait, it gets WORSE.

Most of the times I have been there when she is there, I am in a group of friends where we are more reactive. If you have ever gone to a bar while single it may be acceptable for me to draw the line between reactive and proactive. Proactive is more on the prowl. Reactive is waiting for someone to come to me (likelihood 0%). So when I have seen her I have been in a group of "stand by the dance floor and watch" people rather than the "go do something" people. This is NOT an excuse. I accept full blame for the situation in which I find myself tonight. I point no fingers at anyone but number 1.

Tonight I went out with Mr. "go do something" himself. I had even preempted the night out by saying that things have been slow for me and I needed a night out with someone who would be more proactive with me. I tell you that tonight was that night.

If you were to graph out the level of expectation against the likelihood of talking to a person you see out socially you will know that there is a point on the graph. This point, as it equates to a "break even" point in the business world is when above said point it is now too built up. Too many weeks I have been to the bar and seen this girl. Too many nights I have gone home and told myself that I should have said something. Too many nights I have not made a move.

I wish tonight had gone differently. I would like this post to be one with a more positive outlook. I cannot, however, lie to you and tell you that I came through.

Tonight I blew it. Call the people at Guiness, this might have been the worst ever.

There are no excuses for what happened tonight. There are no "explanations" A/K/A euphemisms for excuses tonight. Mr. "go do something" set 'em up. Did I knock 'em down? Let me put it this way: Gutterball. Swing and the proverbial miss.

The level of disappointment is high. I can only imagine what is going through Mr. "go do something"'s head.

Tonight went as most nights do; we had a few drinks and we stood and watched over the crowd. We, as a group, are not above heading out to the dance floor and making fools of ourselves. The problem is when one girl is at the bar and the rest of the girls are a waste of time.

Disclaimer: Having not met this girl, my assumption that the rest of the female patrons were sub-par is nothing if not a bold one.

I was ready. Had Mr. "go do something" said that it was on, it was on...with anyone else. He however, was determined to get me off my hands and be proactive with the object I felt I desired.

The recap details on how or where she was seen at different points are irrelevant. What becomes important is that as the night wound down she was spotted on the dance floor.

We, following the lead of Mr. "go do something", put ourselves between where she went and how she would get back to her friends. She comes to walk right past me and I freeze. Who would expect less? My friend and miniature Buddha covered in hair sees that I am going to just let her walk by. He grabs her hand and introduces himself. He then introduces me. The only thing that could have improved my meeting would have been had my voice cracked like a boy becoming a man. She says her name while a foot away. The music is up just loud enough that to this moment I have not the foggiest idea what her name is.

Mr. "go do something" cracks a joke or two to her friend and allegedly even throws out the "my friend thinks your friend...." line. I did not know what he said at the time, but I remember her response, "I believe it." It is true.

The four of us now stand awkwardly in the geometric shape of your choice half-dancing. I feel that I am waiting for more of a sign to make a move, though it never comes. I can only imagine what was going through her head. Mr. "go do something" told me that all that went through his head was sheer disappointment.

I let him down. I let myself down. Did I let her down? I guess I will never know.

Was it bad? Oh, it was bad. It was more than bad. What it was, was the last time I talk to that girl. My brief action, I cannot even in good faith call that an attempt, may even make my parents think that I hold something against them to the effect that I will never give them grandchildren.

Is it worse to stand on the sidelines and see the girl you want to talk to? You come home at the end of the night and wish you had said something. Blood does not pump through your veins; regret does. Pure, liquid regret. "I wish tonight was the night." "Man, I should have said something." "I should have tried to dance with her."

Or is it worse to have waited all of this time only to put forth that failing grade?

It was bad. I apologize to all parties involved. I accept the fact that due to my actions irreparable damage was caused. I know that things are now beyond my control. I blew it. I can never go back. I now officially have to move on.

Here is to moving on to another girl. Yes, I expect that in a month or two you will see me repeat most if not all of this explanation.

To say that I blew it may be the understatement of the year.

Where do we go from here?