This is my first ever blog post so please don’t judge it too harshly.
The thing is I’m not really the kind of person who ever seriously considered writing a blog before. Aside from being a mild ‘technophobe’ my default setting leans toward self deprecation and I’ve always been of the opinion that only I should be subjected to the inner workings of my neuroses.
However something occurred to me today that has forced me to want to confront my aforementioned self deprecating nature.
So I guess I’ll start at the beginning…
At the risk of sounding like a crime novelist it started out as an ordinary Tuesday. I ran down the stairs of Holloway Road tube station, already feeling the stifling effects of the underground on my skin. The train pulled up and I experienced a mini internal celebration as I realised I was situated right in front of the opening doors (it’s the little things that make us happy).
I was immediately confronted with a semi packed tube (the joys of rush hour) and as I contemplated the best way to squeeze myself as close to the open window as possible, undignified as it may be to admit I suffer with severe tube sweats, my eyes came to rest on a cute man with dimples.
Now for those of you who aren’t acquainted with me, there are a few relevant things you should know. 1) I very rarely see anyone I am instantly attracted to and you may think me shallow but instant attraction is quite important to me albeit due to the fact I am never instantly attracted to anyone and 2) I’m a HUGE sucker for dimples.
In the 7 minutes it took to get from Holloway Road to Kings Cross I tried to subtly practice my owl pose (that is turn my head 180 degrees) to try and catch a glimpse of ‘cute man with dimples’. Once we reached Kings Cross and the train emptied of all those needing to change tube lines, imagine my elation when ‘cute man with dimples’ actually moved over to stand next to me. For the next 3 minutes we played our own version of glance tennis (I must admit I’m paraphrasing the more widely used phone tennis) or at least that’s how it felt in my head.
By the time the train stopped at Russell Square I had made a decision. I was going to give this guy my number. In my head I heard my cousin stating with so much certainty “You should have cards. you need them in London” and at that moment I actually agreed with her. However I pride myself on my problem solving skills and I didn’t hesitate to pull my notebook out of my bag and very unsteadily scribble my name and number down on a clean sheet of paper.
For anyone who has never taken public transport (especially in London) after my surge of self assurance (I’m still not 100% sure where it came from) I realised I had a problem, there is no way to subtly give your number to someone on the tube. The remaining 60 seconds it took to get to my stop (Holborn) I attempted to give myself a stern talking to in which the general theme was “JUST GIVE HIM THE PIECE OF PAPER” I use capitals because I was actually shouting inside my own head.
The train was slowing down, now was the moment, my heart was beating faster, my face was heating up, my palms were sweating, which had absolutely nothing to do with my “Tube sweats” condition. All I had to do was tear the piece of paper from my notebook hand it to “cute man with dimples” as I walked past him and stepped off the train. And I’m really sorry to say that I chickened out.
As soon as my Mary Janes touched the platform I experienced that oh so heavy emotion of Instant Regret and I continued to berate myself on my short walk over to the Central line platform.
“Why am I such a P***y? It wasn’t that big of a deal! You should’ve just given him your number” Were a few of the thoughts circulating through my mind.
Now I should mention here that I have always been extremely shy when it comes to the opposite sex, and even though instant attraction is important to me I find that due to my shyness I don’t get to choose those I am instantly attracted to because I’m too scared to talk to them. Here’s where my self deprecating nature becomes a major problem because I always assume that the people I am attracted to won’t be attracted to me without ever really giving them, or myself, a chance. I read an article once where it stated that women were giving men the upper hand by believing that it was the mans duty to approach the woman, and I have to admit I’m inclined to agree. In my case I know I am rarely attracted to men, yet when I do experience that elusive state, I let the opportunity slip by and when men, who I’m not attracted to approach me, I complain that I am not hit on enough.
With thoughts like this swirling around my brain I came up with a challenge for myself (I told you I’m a problem solver). Essentially I want to be able to feel the fear, and do it anyway as a great book once declared. So I have asked my friends for suggestions to force myself to talk to men in certain situations. I am going to compile a list of hopefully 30 tasks and during September I am going to complete 1 task per day. My goal by the end of the 30 days is to feel more comfortable speaking to strangers (who happen to be men) so that if the tube situation (or something similar) arises again I won’t wuss out next time.
Number 1 on the list is obviously ‘If you see a cute guy on the tube, give him your damn number, you have nothing to lose!’
So…I guess you’ll hear from me in a week!
Wish me luck!!!