I’ve been going on a lot of lunch and coffee dates. Sometimes I pay for the girl and sometimes I don’t. In situations where it might be awkward to not pay, I say fuck it and hand over the money. Cheap as coffee and lunch are, when you go out with so many girls, it adds up. I thought it was one thing to cheat on Nanda, but quite another to pay for girl’s food and drink with our money. I found a solution to this. I came up with pudding dates.
When I meet a girl and things are going well, I’ll say, “I love talking with you. I really want to see you again. We should get together for some pudding.”
“Pudding?”
Yep. I go by the grocery store, pick up a pudding four-pack, and I have myself a cheap date. I usually take girls to the University and will sit on the grass and talk and have our pudding. What’s nice is that we can walk around or people-watch or play ping pong at the student union. It’s never boring and I don’t think many girls have ever been on a pudding date.
I’ve also found that the more I pay for a date, the more there is keeping me and the girl from getting to know each other. I want the focus to be on us, not on a band or baseball team or an expensive dinner. I want her to see how interesting I am and I want her to show me how interesting she is. I want connection.
I went on eight pudding dates with eight different girls and they all ended up the same. Things are always good in the beginning. They smile. They laugh. We talk. I call them. We have pudding. And then we’re buddies. I suppose it’s really not that complicated. The fact is that I never tried anything with them. Never a hand-hold or kiss. I can’t expect the girl to take charge. So that was my new mission. To kiss a girl.
This is not easy. It’s seems that the seduction gods are always putting obstacles in my way. It’s always the same obstacle: fear. Fear to go up to a pretty girl and start a conversation. Fear to ask her for her phone number. Fear to call her. Fear to see her again. And now, the fear of going for the kiss. It’s like a video game where in order to get to the next level you have to kill the monster. That monster is always fear. At every stage I must slay a new dragon.
Monica was my first pudding date. Things were good, but the night came to an end and I never got the courage to try anything. Then there was Molly. The entire time I was thinking of kissing her and it always seemed impossible. Then, when I walked her to her car, I said good-bye and went for a kiss. I got the head-turn hug good-bye. It sucked. She wasn’t the only one who knew about the head-turn hug good-bye; Marla, Shannon, and Camille knew it too. On the other pudding dates I went for a hand-hold and things didn’t go any better. I was striking out left and right.
Another think. Why was it so hard to kiss a girl? Certainly girls like to kiss, so that’s not the issue. I thought about this for a while and then, out of the blue, it came to me. I meet a girl and she has a good time, but I am respectful and keep my distance. We talk. We exchange phone numbers. We meet again. Then, when I try to kiss her, it seems to come out of nowhere. I haven’t touched her the entire time, and now I’m jumping three levels up and trying to kiss her. A girl is having a wonderful platonic time with me and when I try to kiss her it comes as a shock. She must be thinking, What changed? Why is he suddenly trying to kiss me?
The solution is rather simple. Rather than waiting hours and hours to try to touch a girl, you touch her immediately upon meeting her. You touch her and her friends in a warm and gentle way. Touch the forearm or shoulder. Shake her hand. Give her a high five. Play paper, rock, scissors. Give her the rock. Ask her to give you pinky love or make a pinky promise. Thumb wrestle. Read her palm. Read her knee. Anything. Then you slowly escalate. High fives turn to hand-holds, and playful hip checks lead to putting your arm around her.
I went to the university and had three goals. Touch. Touch. Touch. I would go up to girls or groups of people and impress them with my charm, but I would begin to touch them immediately. At first it seemed very awkward to me. I was more nervous than usual. It was also distracting. I’d be thinking so much about touching that my conversations would take a tumble. I persevered. I went up to girl after girl. The interactions were brief, no more than a few minutes.
I discovered something interesting. When done correctly, people don’t realize you’re touching them. It comes off as the most natural thing. You can go up to a guy, put your hand on his shoulder and say, “Hey, man. Which way is the library?” When he tells you, you pat him on the back and thank him. There is nothing weird about it. When you are comfortable touching people, they are comfortable touching you. To have a girl touch you minutes after meeting her is pretty great.
These were good insights, but there was more. I looked back and thought about all the girls I’d met and the process I’d gone through with each one. It dawned on me that I never came across as a sexual being. Girls wanted to hang out with me and be my buddy. They didn’t want to fuck me. This had to change. Clearly, the answer wasn’t to go up to women and grope them or ask them to have sex with me. A woman can go up to a guy and offer him a blowjob and the two of them will be in his car five minutes later. Things have to be done more gracefully with women.
I went out the next few days and worked on touching everyone I spoke with. I chatted up girls and experimented with being more sexual. Sometimes things went very badly, but I was learning. I wanted to figure this out and if it meant I was going to piss off some girls, then I was willing to pay that price. It seemed I was going backwards for a while. When you make a girl angry or make her feel uncomfortable, she’s not going to want to meet with you for pudding. I slowly figured out how to do it. I started going on pudding dates again—turbocharged pudding dates full of high fives and wrestling on the grass and waltzing. Ryann was my best pudding date up to now.
She was sitting alone on the grass, reading, taking in some sun. I walked up, sat beside her and said, “Do you mind if I borrow some of your grass?” I’d probably said that to fifty other girls, and just like the girls before her, she looked at me, confused. This confused look used to scare the shit out of me. It would make me want to run away. Now I expect it.
“It’s a gorgeous day to be out reading a book. What are you reading?”
She turned the cover toward me so that I could see it. It was Norman Mailer’s biography of Picasso.
“I love Picasso,” I said, touching the back of my hand to her knee for the briefest of moments. “His life was so full of passion. I love the idea of being able to create beautiful things with only your mind and your hands. Do you paint?”
“No. I took an art class once. I enjoyed it, but I’m not very good.”
“You seem creative to me,” I said. This is one of those lines that automatically comes out of my mouth the first chance it gets.
She wrinkled her forehead and looked at me. She was quiet for a moment and then started to say something, but I interrupted her, “I feel like you’re into poetry or writing of some sort.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve written a poem.”
“I knew it!” I tapped the top of her knee with my middle finger. “You’re a poet.”
“I write short stories now.”
“Tell me about that. Tell me about writing.”
“I love it.”
“What do you feel when you write?”
“I feel free. I forget about my worries and think up crazy worlds and situations. For that hour that I’m writing everything else disappears. It’s a rush.”
“That’s awesome. I don’t write, but I know what you’re talking about. I love to drive out at night, away from the city where you can look up and see a skyfull of stars. I can look up for hours at a time and lose myself in its vastness.” I inhaled. “It’s a rush.”
“When I was in high school, my boyfriend and I would drive out on the weekends and lie in the back of his truck counting shooting stars.” She said. “I haven’t done that in a long time.”
“We’re going to have to drive out and look up at the sky one of these nights.” There was a pause. “Wait,” I lean in and bump her shoulder with mine, “You’re not a law student, are you?”
“No, why?”
“Good. Because if you were, we’d have to call the whole thing off.”
She laughed.
“What are you studying?” I said.
“I’m a math major.”
“Oh, no. A math geek? I think this, umm, isn’t going to work out. Maybe I take back the star-gazing offer.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. You seemed totally cool at first, but now I’m having my doubts,” I said this with a big smile.
“I am cool!” She punched my arm. I laughed.
“Oh, a feisty one, huh? I like that about you. That you’re feisty. I find it sexy.”
She looked at me, head slightly tilted.
“So how far along are you? When do you graduate?”
“I’m a sophomore.”
That made her about 19 years old. She looked a little older to me. She was pretty and the fact that she was majoring in math intrigued me.
“Are you from Springfield?” I said.
“No. I’m from Phoenix. My family lives there.”
“How do you like it here?”
“I like it. I like that it’s not as big as Phoenix. Phoenix is getting too big. It’s too hot too. It’s not as hot here.”
I looked around. We were both quiet. I wanted to see if she would restart the conversation. She did. People don’t like silence.
“So what are you studying?” She said.
“I’m not a student.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“I thought you were a graduate student.”
“No. I like to come here to read or work on my laptop. Sometimes I sit in the student union for hours at a time, typing away. I like people-watching too.”
“So what do you do?”
“What do I do?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me show you.” I extended my palm-up hand toward her. “Give me your hand.”
She gave me her hand. I turned it palm up.
“When I was little,” I said, “I would draw on my hand.” I used my index finger as a pen and pretended to draw on the palm of her hand. “I would draw houses and whole neighborhoods. Tall buildings and hotels,” I continued to write on her hand and began up her forearm. “Then I’d go to my mom and say, ‘Isn’t this a beautiful house, Mom?’ and of course she’d agree.” I put her hand down. “Ever since I was little I dreamed of owning houses and buildings of every type. And now I’m a real estate investor.”
“That is so cool,” she said. “So you’ve always wanted to do that?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t know I wanted to be a mathematician when I was little. I didn’t even know there was such a thing. But I always liked math. When I took calculus in high school I was hooked.”
“You’re a smart girl. I can tell by the way you speak. I like you.” She was a little thrown off. Without hesitating, I continued, “If you could be anything, anything at all, and success was guaranteed, what would you be?”
“I’d like to be a writer.”
“That would be perfect. You’d be a perfect wife. You’d be a wealthy writer and you’d support me and our three kids. You’d be out on book tours all the time and I’d have my friends over every day for poker and pizza. And when you came back from a trip, you’d walk in and my friends would tell me how hot you are.”
“I hate poker. I don’t like card games.”
“That’s it. This is never going to work out. I want a divoce. You can keep the kids, but I want the jetski.”
She laughed. “Maybe you guys can play chess or something. I’d be down with that.”
“I like talking with you,” I said. “What are you doing Thursday afternoon?”
“I’ll have class until three. I’m free after that.”
“Great. Let’s meet for pudding.”
“Pudding?”
“Yeah.” I took my cellphone out of my pocket and handed it to her. She typed in her name and number, and handed the phone back to me. I found her number in my phone and called her. Her phone vibrated inside her purse. She took it out and answered.
“You won’t believe what just happened to me,” I spoke into my phone, “I met the most interesting girl today at the university and she gave me her phone number. I don’t know if I should call her. What do you think?”
“I think you should.”
“Cool.” I hung up and put my phone in my pocket.
“You’re different,” she said.
“Different?”
“Different than most guys.”
“You’re different too. I just met you, and I feel we can talk for hours and hours about a thousand different things.”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s try something. With just five questions, I can get to know you as well as your best friend knows you.”
“No way.”
“Yup. Come on it’ll be fun. Ready?”
“With just five questions?”
“Okay, imagine a desert. A very simple desert. There is only white sand and a blue sky. You see it?”
“Yeah.”
“Somewhere in this desert, there is a cube. I want you to see it in your mind. Tell me when you see it.”
She looked up for a moment. “I see it.”
“Tell me about your cube. Where is it? In the back? Off to the side?”
“It’s in the middle?”
“How big is it?”
“Not very big.”
“How big? Like a car? Like a hotel?”
“No. It’s small. Like a microwave oven.”
“What color is it?”
She closed her eyes. “It’s transparent. Like it’s made of glass. But it looks soapy, a bunch of colors swirl around.”
“Is the cube on the ground? Is it buried? Floating?”
“It’s lying on the ground. It’s not buried.”
“Okay, that was the first question. Now the second question. Ready?”
“Yeah. This is interesting.”
“Now imagine a ladder. Some where in this desert with a cube in the middle of it, there is a ladder. See it in your mind.”
“I see it.”
“Tell me about the ladder. Where is it?”
“It’s beside the cube.”
“How far from the cube?”
“Just beside it. Like a foot away.”
“Is the ladder on its side?”
“No. It’s standing straight up.”
“Is it leaning up against the cube?”
“No.”
“Interesting. What’s the ladder made of? What color is it?”
“It’s brown. Made of wood.”
“Now the third question. Imagine a horse. Somewhere in this desert with a cube and a ladder, there is a horse. See it in your mind.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me about the horse.”
“It’s black. It’s behind the cube and the ladder. Not too far, but not close.”
“What’s the horse doing?”
“It’s eating.” She closes her eyes and imitates an eating horse.
I laugh and put my hand on her leg, “Oh, I even get a demonstration!”
She laughs too.
“I’m on the horse,” she says.
“Oh my god. On the horse? That’s so funny.”
“Why?” She put her hand on my upper arm. “Why? Tell me.”
“You’ll see why. Okay, so the horse is eating off in the back. How is the horse affecting the cube and the ladder?”
“It’s not. It’s just in the back, alone.”
“Now the fourth question. Flowers. Imagine flowers somewhere in this desert.”
She nods.
“You see them?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are they? How many? What color?”
“There are five. They’re different colors. They’re around the cube.”
“So the flowers are around the cube and the ladder?”
“Yeah.”
“Last question. In this desert there is a storm.”
“Okay.”
“Do you see it?”
“Hold on.” She looks for a storm in her mind. “I see it.”
“What do you see?”
“It’s raining all around, but not on the cube. Not on the horse either. But everywhere else it’s raining.”
“What effect does the storm have on the cube and the ladder and the horse and the flowers?”
“None. It’s just raining all around, but it’s not affecting anything.”
“Cool. We’re done. Do you want to know what this is all about?”
“Of course!”
“Okay. The cube represents the way that you see yourself. Your cube is not huge like a mountain or an elephant. That means that you’re down to earth and don’t feel the need to show off. You’re not arrogant. At the same time, your cube is not small like an ice cube. That means you don’t have self-esteem problems. You are confident, but not arrogant. Your cube is transparent. That means you are honest with those around you and with yourself. You hate hypocrisy.”
I wasn’t sure what to say about the cube being made out of glass. I could only think of that meaning that she is fragile, but I didn’t want to make any negative interpretations. I suppose I could have said that glass is fragile so that means there is a very gentle and tender side to her. I’ll remember that for next time.
“The ladder represents your aspirations in life. The ladder is pointing straight up and that means you have big aspirations. You want to grow. You’re not happy to stay as you are. But the ladder is made out of wood. It’s an every-day material. Even though you have big aspirations, they are very realistic aspirations. If your ladder had been made of gold or diamonds, that would mean that you’re aspirations are unrealistic.”
She was focused on me.
“The horse. This is funny. The horse represents a lover in your life. I’ll let you interpret what it means that you were on your horse.”
We both laughed.
“You’re a freaky one.” I bump her shoulder. She hits me on the chest with the palm of her hand.
“What is interesting, though is that the horse is away from the cube and the ladder. That could mean that right now in your life, your studies and other things come before your lover. But the horse is there. He is patient. He is waiting.” I smile. “And you’re on top of him.”
She hit me again and laughed.
“The flowers are your friends and loved ones. You said you saw five flowers. That doesn’t mean that you only have five friends, but it does mean that you have a handful of friends and family members who you are very close to. You may know other people, but those few are the ones you are very close to. You said the flowers were different colors. That means that you get different things from different people. You might turn to one of your close friends to let loose and have fun, but you might go to a different friend if you are feeling sad and want to be listened to. The people close to you all have a different role in your life. The flowers were surrouding the cube. That’s cool. Your friends and family are surrounding you.
“The storm represents problems in your life and how you handle them. You said the storm was all around, but that it wasn’t raining on the cube or the horse or the ladder or the flowers. The storm did not influence the cube and the other things in a negative way. There are problems in your life, sure, but you are able to handle them and move on. You don’t let problems control you or paralyze you.”
She was looking at me.
“What do you think?” I said.
“Wow.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how accurate was it?”
“I’d say it was a nine. A nine point five.”
“So with only five questions I know you as well as your closest friends. Pretty cool, huh?”
“That was fun,” she said. “Kind of creepy.”
“I have to go,” I said. I got up. “I’ll call you.”
“Yeah, call me.”
“I don’t get a hug?” I reached down and pulled her up by her hands. We hugged. “I’m really glad we met. Thanks for coming up and flirting with me.”
“Me? I was sitting here. You came up to me.”
I smiled at her. She smiled back. I left.
I sent her a text message while I was driving.
Keith: I never thought math majors could be so sexy
She replied.
Ryann: :)
Then
Keith: If you don’t back off on the sexiness, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself
Ryann: Dont blame me if you can’t control yourself
Keith: See you soon. Dont miss me too much
Ryann: Ill try
