Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This
Subject X - 4.14.2005
It's funny…I don't really feel different. I kind of thought I would. I mean, it's a pretty big change for me…possibly the biggest change I've ever consciously made to myself. Then again, I'm not really sure I ever really decided to make this change. Don't get me wrong, I've hoped, wished and prayed for it for as long as I can remember; but I think I was relegated to the fact that it would most probably never happen. Then, one recent night, without so much as a warning, it finally happened. And now I'm different…I think.
It was a little over a month ago and I was in a little piece of heaven called Byron Bay . Byron Bay is a tiny party town on the east coast of Australia (which I'm currently traveling in for a few months) where Aussies and foreigners alike come to surf, suntan, and drink. It was my first night there and, as is customary in Byron; I was properly drunk by 8pm . At around 10, my British traveling buddies and I arrived at an amazing little dirty bar called Cheeky Monkey's – think Biftek if instead of sitting down or playing pool everyone danced on top of their table. Upon entering Cheeky's we promptly downed a couple of drinks and joined the hoards of sweaty, drunk and half naked travelers dancing atop the tightly packed furniture. It was there that things began to change. It was then, as I sang along to ‘Summer of 69' with 300 happily intoxicated youth from all corners of the earth and attempted to dance on my overcrowded metal picnic table, that I spotted the beautiful Australian girl who was about to become the spark that would ignite a new era in my life.
Before I continue, let me interrupt this tale for a quick history lesson. Those of you who have read past X articles are well aware of what I like to refer to as my ‘social inadequacies.' Simply put, for one reason or another, I have never been able to approach members of the opposite sex who don't already know my name. Not only do I become completely incapacitated every time I find myself attracted to an unfamiliar girl, I also have the self-torturous tendency to fall head over heels for someone nearly every time I leave the house. I'll then spend the rest of my night lusting from afar, thinking of a hundred different things I should say or do to introduce myself to my potential soul mate; all the while knowing full well that at the end of the night I'll be walking home alone, cursing my social incompetence.
It was no surprise then that on that fateful night at Cheeky Monkey's, as I watched my new crush of the night dance a few feet away from me, my entire history of debilitation raced through my mind. I wondered to myself - as I always do - what I was so afraid of. Where did the fear come from? And why did it hold so much power over me? Was rejection really worse than all this self doubt? This social paralysis? This loneliness? All very important questions, but questions that I'd already asked myself a thousand times on a thousand ordinary nights such as this one; and it had yet to do me any good. But this was no ordinary night…this was the night of change.
To make matters worse, I suddenly realized that I would not only have to overcome my own issues in order to meet my crush, but would also have to somehow get by her friend who was dancing between us. As I began to mentally make up dozens of excuses for why it was fine that I wasn't going to approach my crush (she wouldn't leave her friend alone…she wouldn't like me anyways…odds are we wouldn't get married so it was pointless…maybe she hates Canadians…) I suddenly felt myself inexplicably moving towards her. While I wondered who had taken over my body, I found myself leaning towards my crush's friend and saying words which seemed to materialize out of thin air.
‘Hi,' I heard myself say. ‘it's my buddy's birthday today but he's really shy so I thought maybe you'd ask him to dance and make his night.'
An unrehearsed lie. But, as far as lies go, a surprisingly good one.
With crossed fingers I pointed at my friend Adam the Brit – a man deemed attractive by far too many girls - who was dancing alone behind me, completely unaware of his role in my metamorphosis. I held my breath and said a quick prayer as my human obstacle looked Adam up and down before saying the word I was waiting to hear.
‘Sure.'
I exhaled quietly and, as I traded positions with Jen (the friend), I mouthed ‘it's your birthday' to Adam. After giving the new couple a minute to get acquainted, I took another deep breath, leaned in to Tara (the crush) and, once again, heard myself say words that did not seem to be my own.
‘I think we might have just been abandoned by our friends.'
Was my approach dishonest? Yes.
Immoral? Maybe.
Harmful? No.
Successful? Definitely.
As Tara and I talked, laughed and danced the rest of the night away, I felt as if years of frustration were melting away. I could almost see my fear of rejection slowly walking away, waving goodbye. I don't really know why my fear chose that night to leave me, but in that moment a semi-relevant line from Swingers flashed across my mind:
‘...but it's like you almost miss that pain…because you lived with it for so long.'
I don't think I'll ever really miss that fear, but one thing's for certain; things just won't be the same without it. It's true, sometimes change can be intimidating and unfamiliar; but every now and again, on those days when you get really really lucky, change can be uniquely fantastic.
Forward warm & fuzzy things to Subject X
[back to subject x] - [home]
