"My job is to distract you"

"Are you single?"

"What? Why?"

He looks at me like I'm crazy. "Dude, are you single or what?"

"Uh, yeah. What's going on?" I say.

A bunch of us are at a Shockoe club on Saturday night. I have had two, maybe four beers. I know I am over the legal limit at this exact moment, because the legal limit is defined as "the blood alcohol content at which people who can't dance decide it's a great idea to dance at a club." It's true: I am dancing with a group of my friends. Sometimes I would dance in close proximity to certain ones, who are pretty much girls, but in a friendly sort of way. I wouldn't call it "a thing." But, uh, that is definitely happening. But that isn't the point of the story.

Honestly: this isn't really "my scene", but I am having fun.

Eventually the casual-acquaintance-class friend who is asking me the questions manages to extract that I'm single. "Listen, man, you and me are going to go talk to these two girls over at the bar. Come on, let’s go."

"Uh..."

But see, here's the problem. This guy doesn't need help or moral support talking to girls. Girls seem to like him quite enough on his own. I think I saw one of the girls he danced with earlier actually, like, melt. As in physically she became a puddle, Wicked Witch-style, I guess due to something about him.

Now, I don't discriminate when it comes to "being a wingman", because I definitely am willing to say awkward things to any girl at any time, especially to help out my friends, and I even think I'm getting less self-conscious about it in the last couple of weeks, but: seriously. It was kind of a mismatch. Imagine Justin Long (I'm a Mac!) and John Hodgeman (I'm a PC!) going to talk to two girls at a bar, and you'll have it about right, except maybe replace Justin Long with Justin Timberlake.

So this is really more like good times than moral support. But hell, I'm game. Which girls are we talking to? Oh no: they're stunning. Somewhere back in my mind I'm thinking about how this really isn't my scene. But I decide to just let Mr. SexyBack pick a girl he likes, and then to go look the other one right in the eyes, say hi, ask an interesting question, ask a cute and funny followup question, she would laugh, I would laugh in a friendly, with-her sort of way, and then before long I'd have led things into a little conversation. Seriously, this is easy stuff. I mean, I'm not intimidated. Ha. As if.

Instead, I walk over to the girl my friend chooses to ignore, look her directly in her drink, and mutter a thing that led to no conversation at all:

"Hi, I'm Justin! My job is to distract you while my friend talks to your friend."

"You say awkward things to me like every day!"

I've been complaining (or maybe bragging) to my friends that I haven't said anything awkward to any random girls since I started this blog. I even managed to meet one of my sister's friends from college over the weekend, who was ultra cute, without saying anything markedly awkward. That I recall. Then again, I didn't try to ask her out.

Anyway, like I say, I generally expect to say one awkward thing per week, but I've been un-awkward for going on 12 days now. It's like a hit streak. Here is how my friends try to console my lack of inspiration:

"Don't worry buddy. I know you'll say lots of awkward things soon."

and my favorite:

"You say awkward things to me like every day! And I'm a girl! How come I don't count?"

My friends sure know how to cheer me up!

"I just wanted to come over and say that. That's all."

A few weeks ago, my friends took me out and tried to convince me to talk to girls at bars, partly for my own good, but partly for their own entertainment. Here's one of the debacles from that night.

We're at a bar in the Bottom when I see a tremendously pretty-eyed girl (TPEG) sitting at a booth with like 4 other girls. The girl sitting next to her decides to go to the bathroom, leaving an empty seat next to TPEG. My friends have figured out what I'm so interested in, and they nudge me over in that direction. This only works because I've had beer.

I walk over and sit down. Out-of-place doesn't begin to describe how I feel, and I'm sure it's obvious. "Hey, uh, um, excuse me, but, what's your name?" Now seriously, give me credit - that's not as bad as it could have been.

Except I must have mumbled. "What?" she says. The other girls at the table look at me like I'm asking for help to get back to 1985. I decide to ignore them for the same reasons that cause mountain climbers to not look down.

Eventually we straighten out the name situation so that I no longer have to internally refer to her as an acronym. (I did not shake hands: I'm not that awkward. There are limits.) It's time for me to say something remotely intelligent to justify my occupation of their booth.

"Listen, uh, the thing is, you have, um, really pretty eyes." Oh god. I am that awkward. It's awful. Run. "Uh, I noticed that from across the bar, and I just wanted to come over and say that. That's all. Bye."

So sure, my friends did convince me to go back over there and ask if she had a boyfriend, which, duh. But even so, my panic-button-finger was a little itchy that night.

Sorry for the slightly dated Awkward Thing today, but I spent all weekend with family and didn't go out at all. I have plans later this week though, so stay tuned!

Hello, World!

Talking to girls you don't know is awkward. It doesn't matter who you are.

Then again, my awkward girl-related stories have a repuation. I recently broke up with a (super awesome and definitely missed but ultimately incompatible-with-me (I learned that "incompatible" doesn't have to mean "we fight a lot")) girlfriend I had for about 10 months, and multiple friends expressed their condolences, but said they were kind of excited that they get to hear awkward girl-related stories again.

Seriously - did you see that sentence I just wrote? That's the sort of thing that happens inside my brain when I try to express thoughts. Normally I can correct for it when I speak, but when I am confronted with the additional pressure and emotional turmoil involved in speaking to someone I think is cute, things don't come out so smoothly.

At all.

Here are the ground rules:

1. I swear to you I am not doing this on purpose or disrespectfully. This website is about things I say in earnest to people I like and who I want to like me. Sometimes it just doesn't work out that way.
2. I'm not making any of this stuff up. Truth is more awkward than fiction.

In addition to the best of the awkward things I say on a weekly basis to girls, I'll be blogging old classics (I've got some winners from high school and college that are pretty enjoyable), and if I get really motivated, I have a feature-length girl-related Awkward Adventure just begging to be serialized. Expect great things.

Anyway, whether you're laughing at or with me, or you're commisserating with the poor, innocent girls I try to talk to, I hope you enjoy the blog.

"Click"

Two weeks ago, I'm at a club in the bottom with some friends. One of whom, who is single, and I decide to go talk to two girls who are dancing by themselves.

Now, you've got to understand something here. In this blog, when I say things like that we "decide to go talk to two girls who are dancing by themselves," I feel like the image that is created is one of confident urban professional men self-assuredly deciding that, gee, those girls look like urbane, fasionable, interesting girls who will be receptive to our finely honed pick-up techniques.

Nope.

What actually happened was that we noticed these girls that look interesting and one of us (doesn't matter which) suggested talking to them. To which the other responded: no way dude. You're crazy.

"No, I'm serious, lets do it."

"What? Are you insane? What will we say?"

"Oh god, don't think about it. Don't plan, we'll screw it up. Lets just go over there."

So now that I've shattered that illusion, let us fast forward several minutes. Somehow we've had a relatively good and interesting conversation with these girls. Well, I have. The girl I'm talking to is very cute and I'm deciding that she's very likeable also. My friend isn't doing so well - his girl is a bit too tipsy for civilized discourse.

So, eventually the girl I'm talking to says listen, I'll give you my phone number, you'll call me, and we'll go out sometime. Which, you know, is what cute, interesting girls say to me: never. My attention is now divided several ways: looking at the girl, operating my voice, remembering to breathe in and out and to tell my heart to beat, and so I initially say, I have a pen. Write your number down.

She says, what? Don't you have a cell phone? I'm sure she's thinking that I'm some kind of barbarian. Oh, right. I do have that. But there's the problem.

The next few steps are the crucial ones: I open my phone, I put it in "new number" mode, put in her number, let her make sure it's right, say "thanks," say "okay I have to go now," and close my phone.

"Click" goes my phone as I close it.

That phone-closing noise is the sound of crushed dreams and destroyed happiness. As you may notice if you reread that sequence of events, at no time did I actually save her number. It's gone.

She has moved to dance somewhere else more crowded by the time I realize this, and I make an executive decision not to go back up to her and bug her about it, because, seriously, that would be well across the awkward line, wouldn't it?

"I like talking about emotions"

It's Saturday night. I'm on the patio of a sports bar with lots of people from a sports league I play in, including the devastatingly cute girl on one of the teams we played against that day.

By the point of the evening, I already have her phone number (suspend your disbelief, I guess), but for some reason alarms aren't going off in my mind to get out, run, you can only make things worse.

So I start talking to her again a bit later as we pay our tabs. She kind of looks embarrassed, and says uh, listen, Justin, the thing is, I gave you my number, but really, I have this ex-boyfriend of 7 months who I just broke up with and who I am kind of maybe trying to get back together with, so, you know, did you give me your number? No? Well maybe you can call me, and I'll call you if things don't really work out with that guy. Is that okay? Is that awkward?

So I'm thinking: right. There's the other shoe dropping, as it seems to always. Which is cool - I never expected this girl to actually want to go out with me. Frankly, I was just super proud of myself for seeing a heart-stoppingly cute girl and not missing the opportunity to ask for her number.

So I say no, that's not awkward. It's cool. I understand. It happens. No big deal. And she said good, you know, it's kind of an emotional thing. So by the point I'm slightly tipsy, looking into her eyes is pretty much taking all of my attention, and I hear myself, as if from a distance, saying:

"Actually I like talking about emotions." I take her hand. It's limp and cold and probably wondering what the hell is happening. "It's a thing I enjoy."

"..."

I'm unstoppable. That's the first entry in the blog, but that's not the first awkward thing I ever said to a girl. Oh, no. Expect regular updates to this blog - if I haven't said an awkward thing to a girl lately (because, I guess, I haven't opened my mouth) then I'll be uploading some old classics, like "I need more of you in my lifestyle" and the ever-popular "They have beds." Check back soon.