Getting Back On The Horse

It’s official, I’ve been inspired! As many of you may know, Nate (I’m referring to myself in the third person) has been on a break from the dating scene for quite some time now. Literally, I don’t think I’ve been on a real date in months. Honestly, I don’t know why I’ve been depriving the ladies of the Nate-dawg treats for so long. Maybe I was just bored, jaded, scared of commitment or being hurt, or just plain lazy. Now, however, the courting fast has ended! I have decided that it is time to lose the jaded outlook on dating and the sissy-man attitude. The Nate-dawg treats are back on the market! I’m asking out beautiful women! Now you may be asking yourself, “Self? From where did this divine intervention come?” The honest answer is from multiple sources. The main ones, however, are coworkers who enforce that I have more potential than I give myself credit for, and friend (like Jeff) who are blissfully happy with girls that, at one point, were completely out of their league (congrats Jeff). I figure I deserve the same happiness… even if it requires going through the pain, torment, embarrassment and emotional torture of dating. In a normal person’s life, they would be able to end their post with the previous statement, leaving the reader with a semi-satisfied feeling of pride in the author for his renewed desire to improve and do what is right with a tinge of pity because of the obvious dread to follow through with said desire. This is not a normal person’s life though, it’s mine, and since my life is a joke, there must be a punchline. Prepare yourself.

Last week, one (or all) of the cute girls I work with encouraged me to ask out a girl who I found to be ridiculously attractive. I hesitated and procrastinated (as I always do) due to the sheer nervousness and anxiety that I was feeling. For some reason, beautiful girls intimidate me. At any rate, after nearly an hour of pep-talks and rehearsing every possible outcome of the conversation in my head, I called her number. My original intent was to invite this girl, we’ll call her Cindy, to go to see the Utah Symphony later that night (Friday). I deliberately punched the numbers into my phone, then double checked them to make sure they were right before hitting ’send’. She answered, and after clearing my throat and working up some spit to get over the cotton-mouth I was experiencing, I started up the conversation. It was fairly awkward, seeing as I got her number from her mom (who also works with me), and had left enough time between getting the number and actually calling it for her mother to warn her about my call. (Side note: There is always an awkward moment in a phone call when asking a girl on a date… do you start with casual conversation and work into asking her out, or do you just jump right in and let her know the REAL reason behind your call… which she probably already knows anyway.) I not-so-strategically maneuvered the conversation to the ‘date’ topic. I asked her out for that evening, and of course, she had plans (of course she had plans, she’s beautiful). I was then prompted by my office cheer squad to try for Saturday. Strike two… she had plans. Normally after two strikes I give up, but I decided to be persistent. I asked her out for the upcoming Friday… strike three. At this point, I was in a cold sweat and had no clue what to do with myself. I thought to myself, “man, she’s got to think you are either pathetic or desperate… actually she probably thinks you’re both.” I convinced myself, however, not to hang up the phone and go cry in a corner. I laughed nervously to myself and said, “Wow, Cindy, you are a wanted woman. When ARE you free so that I can take you out?” She let me know that the following Saturday she would be available, and we planned the date. I hung up the phone with a gasp (not a sigh, a GASP) of relief. I was proud. Not only did I ask out a girl, but I asked out one that I was attracted to. Now for the twist. Tuesday, I realized that nearly every female in my entire city will be attending the General Relief Society meeting that evening AND I have tryouts for the BYU Swing Team (which I have been practicing for for months now). Tomorrow I have to call Cindy and cancel. All that work in vain. Ha ha ha… story of my freakin’ life.

Bald »« Jeff Dunham