Welling Up the Wherewithal
Don't worry. She won't read this blog. No chance of that. Seriously. The great thing about the new people that come into my life? They don't know about the blog. They don't know that they might be featured, discussed, or aired out if you will. They don't have a clue. And that's a really good thing. You see, very often I need to write it out to get it out or to help me come to terms with it. It's what I do, what I've done. And what I hate to stop doing once the aforementioned new person discovers the blog. Oh, they almost never happen upon it by chance. Because they never look? Possibly, but even if they search for it (or me), they'll end up stuck in Google's vast catacombs and discover absolutely nothing of value about me. It's the beauty of not being famous (enough) in a world of trendsetters and influencers. While they clog the Internet with inanities, I get to write whatever I care to write (see below) and go largely unnoticed.
Let's get down to it, shall we? I met someone I like. That I like-like. That I'd like to get to know better. That I'd like to ask out. For coffee. That's it. The extent of my desires. Coffee. Forty-five minutes of my life, of her life. Not dinner. Not a drink (I want to keep my wits about me). No commitment required. Just a conversation. Hell, she doesn't even need to get coffee. I don't judge. Chai tea? Fine. Earl Gray? Cool. If she orders a venti froo-froo frap with extra shots, my PTSD might kick in a little. And I'll know that any future coffee fetching will require it to be pay day. Still it's all good. Order milk, water even.
So, what's the problem? Just do it, right? Ask her out. After all, it's just coffee. I made that clear, didn't I? Coffee. It's innocuous and non-committal, easy. Except......... I've got this comfort zone. I wouldn't call it minuscule... Ok, yes...yes, I would. It's minuscule. I have a minuscule comfort zone. What's outside it? Literally every human interaction that doesn't involve home improvement retail or ordering food. But I travel abroad alone? Sure, all the time. I love it. The catch? It has yet to involve asking a woman I like for coffee. Solo travel is safe. Intimating to someone that I like them and want to see them socially? That is MILES from the bright center of my comfort zone.
However, I am constantly reminded that you don't get something from nothing. If it's going to happen, it takes a catalyst and, if you really want something to happen, YOU have to be that catalyst. As scary and impossible as it seems. Sure, I could wait for her to ask me......but maybe she doesn't yet know what she doesn't know. Maybe she doesn't know she likes me. Or maybe asking a woman for coffee is even further from her comfort zone than it is mine. Bull. Horns. Get it, girl.
But, f***. There are wrinkles. I only know her from behind the paint counter and asking customers out - even just for coffee - treads an ethical line. At least for me. And then there's the usual dilemma in my community - I don't know if she's gay. Or sane. Because look - If I like her, she's more than likely straight (My record doesn't lie) and, if she likes me, she's more than likely insane. See why, comfort zone aside, I'm a wee bit hesitant? Maybe she'll be the first lesbian in forever that I'll like and the rare sane one who likes me? Sure. And the Cleveland Browns will win next year's Super Bowl. Meh... I dunno.
And what about rejection? That's outside my comfort zone also. I'm not all about being liked by everyone - I know I'm truly not everyone's cuppa - however I seldom enjoy having that fact throw immediately back in my face. She'd be crazy not to like me? My friends LOVE to say things like that. They think I'm amazing, wonderful, awesome, a "catch" even, and that anyone who can't see that isn't worth my time or effort. My friends, of course, don't have to date me and most are straight women who have never had to put themselves out there and risk rejection by asking someone for coffee. I have to be able to digest a "No" and keep my head out of the (figurative) toilet.
Given that I don't have a phone number and only know her from work, this may all be a moot point. I may never see her again. It's a real possibility. There are many choices for home improvement items in Las Vegas and my little orange box is just one of them. She could start going to Lowe's or any of the eleven other World's Largest Home Improvement Retailers within in short driving distance. Or all of her projects could be done and she won't need anything except an air filter in the next six months. In other words, courage may be the least of my problems.
If I was famous, I could rely on her reading this blog, recognizing herself, and either (a) running straight to my store to ask me out or (b) never coming back for fear I'll actually well up the wherewithal to ask her out. Alas, I am not, and though my first name has an unusual spelling and she could feasibly Google stalk me and find my Facebook, Instagram, my Amazon author page or my website, the chances are slim. Slim enough that I'm not at all worried about posting this. She'd have to virtually stalk me and I'm confident no one ever does that. Well, at least to me. Oh, people do it...I just imagine never to me.
I guess the moral of the story is that we'll have to wait and see. Will I expand my comfort zone and well up the courage? Will I ever see the woman in question again? Part of me hopes I never do so all this stays a hypothetical, so I can stay firmly within my comfort zone. The other part of me knows that I have to go for it. If I don't, I'll always wonder what could have been....and kick myself for not having enough courage. The tattoo on my arm says "Fearless" for a reason, doesn't it?
Let's get down to it, shall we? I met someone I like. That I like-like. That I'd like to get to know better. That I'd like to ask out. For coffee. That's it. The extent of my desires. Coffee. Forty-five minutes of my life, of her life. Not dinner. Not a drink (I want to keep my wits about me). No commitment required. Just a conversation. Hell, she doesn't even need to get coffee. I don't judge. Chai tea? Fine. Earl Gray? Cool. If she orders a venti froo-froo frap with extra shots, my PTSD might kick in a little. And I'll know that any future coffee fetching will require it to be pay day. Still it's all good. Order milk, water even.
So, what's the problem? Just do it, right? Ask her out. After all, it's just coffee. I made that clear, didn't I? Coffee. It's innocuous and non-committal, easy. Except......... I've got this comfort zone. I wouldn't call it minuscule... Ok, yes...yes, I would. It's minuscule. I have a minuscule comfort zone. What's outside it? Literally every human interaction that doesn't involve home improvement retail or ordering food. But I travel abroad alone? Sure, all the time. I love it. The catch? It has yet to involve asking a woman I like for coffee. Solo travel is safe. Intimating to someone that I like them and want to see them socially? That is MILES from the bright center of my comfort zone.
However, I am constantly reminded that you don't get something from nothing. If it's going to happen, it takes a catalyst and, if you really want something to happen, YOU have to be that catalyst. As scary and impossible as it seems. Sure, I could wait for her to ask me......but maybe she doesn't yet know what she doesn't know. Maybe she doesn't know she likes me. Or maybe asking a woman for coffee is even further from her comfort zone than it is mine. Bull. Horns. Get it, girl.
But, f***. There are wrinkles. I only know her from behind the paint counter and asking customers out - even just for coffee - treads an ethical line. At least for me. And then there's the usual dilemma in my community - I don't know if she's gay. Or sane. Because look - If I like her, she's more than likely straight (My record doesn't lie) and, if she likes me, she's more than likely insane. See why, comfort zone aside, I'm a wee bit hesitant? Maybe she'll be the first lesbian in forever that I'll like and the rare sane one who likes me? Sure. And the Cleveland Browns will win next year's Super Bowl. Meh... I dunno.
And what about rejection? That's outside my comfort zone also. I'm not all about being liked by everyone - I know I'm truly not everyone's cuppa - however I seldom enjoy having that fact throw immediately back in my face. She'd be crazy not to like me? My friends LOVE to say things like that. They think I'm amazing, wonderful, awesome, a "catch" even, and that anyone who can't see that isn't worth my time or effort. My friends, of course, don't have to date me and most are straight women who have never had to put themselves out there and risk rejection by asking someone for coffee. I have to be able to digest a "No" and keep my head out of the (figurative) toilet.
Given that I don't have a phone number and only know her from work, this may all be a moot point. I may never see her again. It's a real possibility. There are many choices for home improvement items in Las Vegas and my little orange box is just one of them. She could start going to Lowe's or any of the eleven other World's Largest Home Improvement Retailers within in short driving distance. Or all of her projects could be done and she won't need anything except an air filter in the next six months. In other words, courage may be the least of my problems.
If I was famous, I could rely on her reading this blog, recognizing herself, and either (a) running straight to my store to ask me out or (b) never coming back for fear I'll actually well up the wherewithal to ask her out. Alas, I am not, and though my first name has an unusual spelling and she could feasibly Google stalk me and find my Facebook, Instagram, my Amazon author page or my website, the chances are slim. Slim enough that I'm not at all worried about posting this. She'd have to virtually stalk me and I'm confident no one ever does that. Well, at least to me. Oh, people do it...I just imagine never to me.
I guess the moral of the story is that we'll have to wait and see. Will I expand my comfort zone and well up the courage? Will I ever see the woman in question again? Part of me hopes I never do so all this stays a hypothetical, so I can stay firmly within my comfort zone. The other part of me knows that I have to go for it. If I don't, I'll always wonder what could have been....and kick myself for not having enough courage. The tattoo on my arm says "Fearless" for a reason, doesn't it?
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