I walked through Temple Bar last night to do a little people watching. I thought about checking out this club to listen to music but nothing seemed to be going on while it was still free to get in so I moved on. There are about 6 million pubs in Dublin but I didn't really feel like going into any of them without a partner in crime. Nor could I bring myself to approach people on the streets (though I'm always on alert for opportunities). I even returned to the hostel to recruit some revelers but people were either asleep or too young and French (that wasn't a crack against the French, just a rant at the French high school kids that took over the hostel and made the hallways smell like moist body odor... and they wouldn't shut up til 1 in the morning).
What I did find on the streets were a couple of very beautiful girls walking in the opposite direction. One was this kind of French looking girl, dark hair up in a pony tail, with this bewildered look in her eyes as she took in all of the sights and sounds of Temple Bar. After I saw her, I actually stopped and stood in an alley running through un-creepy ways to approach her and her friends. That's the difference between a 5 and 10-minute fancy (I use the word fancy instead of crush because the word crush bugs a British friend), no snappy pick-up line or daydream fantasy. Just a moment of being stunned and helpless.
It happened again on the way back to the hostel. A girl was walking right towards me. She wore this sort of, I don't know how you'd describe it, sort of a newsboy cap, and had shoulder length light brown hair. She resembled Jessica Alba a bit but wasn't as movie-star skinny. I stared right at her, drinking it all in and she looked right at me and smiled. Problem was, I did one of those smiles back that aren't really smiles. It feels like my facial muscles have done enough to create a smile but it's really just my lips stretched wider with no curvature. We went our opposite ways and I just kept thinking, show teeth next time, you idiot.
Attempted Smile,
Tony
I mentioned the phenomenon of quick crushes in a previous post and one of my friends requested that I keep track of these girls in my blog. Basically, I encounter very pretty girls wherever I go and I usually don't say a word to them. I immediately start to fantasize about winning them over, usually with a cheesy pick up line, and watch as we fall for each other and live happily in our big house in the hills with my padded piano room and collection of black and white animals in the backyard (sorry, those were two inside jokes for my benefit).
So let's get started:
Paris- Bag check girl at the Louvre.
She was a young French girl with brown hair. I gave her my backpack and she asked me something in French. I looked lost and confused. Then she asked, 'English?... Do you have anything valuable in your bag?' I said no and left. After walking through the museum for a few hours I was excited to retrieve my bag.
Fantasy pick-up line: 'You're more beautiful than anything I've seen in this museum today.'
Reality: She was gone when I went to pick up my bag. A bald guy was in her place. But as he was getting my bag, she came back, saw me, and said, 'Bonsoir'. I smiled and shuffled away quickly. I danced home listening to Feist.
London- Nightclub girls.
I was dancing in a sweaty nightclub and spotted three brunettes throughout the night. I even bumped booties with one of them on the dance floor. But I said nothing and two of them eventually left as it got later. The one who remained wasn't being hassled by Caribbean dudes. She sat on a the edge of a table for a while. I kept trying to figure out if she knew I was shooting her glances.
Fantasy pick-up line: 'You look hot, can I buy you a cold drink?' The American accent would only intrigue her.
Reality: I said nothing and left with my friends to have Arab food. The next day, I state to my friend, 'In America, they would refer to me as a p#$$&.'
Labels: Crush
