Non-date number three is this weekend, Follies, and this is a Do or Die moment in the non-romance between The Bandleader and me. We've met, we've chatted and hung out, we've danced the night away, and now he needs to ask for my number. Detractors can make their claims like "Ohhhhh, don't be a pansy, YOU should ask for HIS number!" but no. I will not ask for his number. My brother says that I may have to suck it up and do it, that it would make for a wonderful story down the road for our children a lá "your father was too chicken to ask me out" but again I say NO. Now let me be clear, I have nothing against making a move on a guy in theory, and I often enjoy visiting known Cougar Dens to watch the older women put the moves on the hot young men. But you see, Follies, I have asked guys out before.
It has never ended well.
It has never ended well because every time -- EVERY. TIME. -- I have ever asked a guy out they've stopped talking to me. Completely stop talking to me. In high school, in college, didn't matter. I wish I could say I'm making this up or I'm exaggerating the truth but I'm not. Literally every time I've asked a guy out they've completely cut off contact.
Add to that weirdness the various conversations I've had with guys since college, where nearly every guy says that a girl asking them out is forward and great but ultimately they don't like it and are actually slightly TURNED OFF by it, and suddenly I think, "Why the fuck am I putting myself out there when they don't even like it?"
Because of all this, I've reached the point where I just say "Screw It!" and I let the guys come to me. I am a princess (sayeth my brother). I am an apple at the top of the tree that is waiting to be picked by the right guy (sayeth this quote). I do not simply stand in a corner and wait for guys to physically come to me. I flirt to the best of my ability and I go out, and I make sure to enjoy myself no matter what I'm doing. Guys talk to me. I get attention. At some point, guys just need to grow a friggin' ballsack and ask me out. And if they don't ask me out after multiple interactions, I can only assume they're not actually interested.
SO. Saturday Night. 8pm. His band will play. I will dance.
And, I say hopefully, I will discover if The Bandleader is interested in Folly, or if he's just being polite for the sake of his friend's wife.
It's go time.