I asked a girl out recently. We had known each other for a few weeks. My game could have been a little better, but I don’t think it would have made a difference.
The girl—we’ll call her Carolyn—had this expression of horror on her face when I told her I thought she was of a higher quality than most girl in our generation. I don’t know what the word “creepy” means, but based on her face, you could tell she was thinking it. “Horror” might be a better word.
Carolyn knew I was into her, since she gave me her number a few weeks back. And just a few minutes prior I was making her laugh. What changed? I made it awkward, the biggest fear of a young white girl.
When I was in high school, I rarely asked girls out, because if she said no, then it would be awkward forever between us. The friendship would be ruined, even if there never was much of a friendship to begin with.
Nowadays I don’t care. Carolyn and I have many mutual friends. We’ll likely run into each other every week. And it’ll be awkward. But that’s her problem. In the old days, I was only bothered by awkward situations because other people were bothered by them. Today I let others take responsibility for their own emotions.
She’s communicated that I have nothing to gain by worrying about her emotions.
Nor is this really her fault. Carolyn is a product of a society and a Christianity that teaches girls to be terrified of men and to avoid everything uncomfortable ever. Women are sheep, so of course she’s bought into this entitlement. Jesus’s little princess, waiting for her king. He’ll bring her a man to fit perfectly into her life when the time comes. But that’s her misery, not mine.
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