The Girl and I are at Seventy7, a dimly lit bar in Culver City. As it's a Monday night, the place is very sparsely populated. We're situated in one corner and in another sits a guy and a girl. They're sitting somewhat upright and at a distance from each other with no physical contact. Even from across the bar I feel the nervous energy radiating from their corner. I can only assume that they're on a first date.
The guy is very physically fit. You can tell he hits the gym on a regular basis, his muscles prominent beneath his blindingly-white polo shirt. He's bald (head shaved clean), but not so that it's a detriment to his attractiveness. You can tell that he's a very confident and successful person . . . but maybe not with the fairer sex. On this particular evening he looks a bit out of his element. Like the guy, the girl is also very physically fit--perhaps the two met at the gym? She is dressed to impress. A bit overdressed for this particular bar, but not for the moment.
Despite his impressive physique, the guy is a Shy Guy (I can spot my brethren from a mile away). Now, as a fellow Shy Guy, I am very concerned for his success and start to fret over whether his date is going well. Having been in his position before, I can tell they're at the stage of the evening in which romantic fortune favors the bold. Stage 1 of the date has gone well--a delightful meal and witty banter--and now the two find themselves at Stage 2, which in this particular instance consists of post-meal drinks at a bar. I don't mean to put pressure on this guy, but this is the critical moment in their budding romance--where the girl is going to decide whether to keep Shy Guy in the pool of potential romantic interests or relegate him to the black hole from which there is no escape--The Friend Zone. Knowing that Shy Guy is in peril, I channel all of my mental energy toward him; a laser beam of pure will--"Show her you're interested--DO SOMETHING!!!"
But Shy Guy does not stir. Instead, it's the girl who makes a move (it would seem as though my aim could use some work). She removes her jacket to uncover a very revealing top--a red sleeveless number with a low-cut neckline. It is by no means slutty--not at all--but sends a very clear and very strong signal--"Hey, Shy Guy. It's ok--I like you." Now that the girl has broken convention and made the first move, Shy Guy has no choice but to act if he hopes to maintain this girl's interest. And so he digs deep into the Shy Guy Playbook and . . . takes out his phone to show the girl something. Now, for the un-Shy, this maneuver may seem somewhat strange, but it's actually quite clever in that it necessitates coming into close contact without being too forward or obvious about the whole thing. Anyway, the girl accepts Shy Guy's invitation and, cheek to cheek, the two enter the wonderful world of cell phone YouTube videos (Chris De Burgh would've been proud).
Seeing that some type of move had been made, I turned my attention back to The Girl and lost track of Shy Guy and his date. However, later in the evening I did notice that when they got up to leave they were leaving together. Whatever videos were shown on that tiny cell phone screen had made this girl swoon. Perhaps the two of them were now moving to a location with a bigger screen for more videos (at least that's what I would've suggested). In any case, I was glad to see that this member of my Shy Guy fraternity had survived Stage 2 and would now be moving on to the next stage--"watching videos." And by that I mean "dropping the girl off at her apartment, politely wishing her a lovely evening and then maybe--MAYBE--going in for a kiss on the cheek."
--KM
"I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight; I've never seen you shine so bright."
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