text: When I was a teen, I was very afraid of speaking to women. &#x200B; Very. &#x200B; If you and I have ever spoken, I don’t think you would think that of me. Maybe that’s why I wanted to tell this story. I sometimes joke about this with close friends, and I’ve always gotten a chuckle out of whoever’s listened to this. Before I start, this is a true story. &#x200B; I was in a new country, with women that I found incredibly attractive. I was thirteen years old. It was my first year in this new school. I didn’t speak English very well, and kids were mean, but that didn’t stop me from becoming part of the student council. To be honest, no one in my class of ten to fifteen students wanted to. So, since I’ve always been a risk taker, I thought “Why not?” &#x200B; Ran unopposed. &#x200B; Won? &#x200B; I attended my first student council meeting with a small mp3 that was a recorder; wanted to record the meeting in case I didn’t catch something. I never used that cheap mp3 recorder, I forgot about it when I saw her. &#x200B; It’s funny when you look back and think about your thirteen-year-old self. I think my attitude towards life was a lot more honest back then. Less controlled. &#x200B; At the meeting, my thought process went something like this: 1. Record the meeting. 2. Wait, who’s that beautiful mythical creature sitting across me? 3. That long black hair. 4. She seems so shy. 5. Those eyes. 6. Leave meeting. 7. It’s all good, I didn’t understand a few things, but I have that Mp3 recording. 8. Oh wait... So, I left that student council meeting after juggling between not looking at her too much and paying attention to the peers I didn’t understand. We had done a round of names so I knew she was one grade above me, and what her name was. Let’s call her Quiet. &#x200B; The student council teacher representative was a Scottish woman that I liked, a bit strict, but fair. She wanted us to organise a disco night. Tasks were assigned amongst us representatives. Mine was the music. Long story short, since my sister and I had watched our fair share of teenage drama movies, I knew that asking someone to a dance was a big deal. I thought it seemed like a decent move to show my commitment to a serious relationship (at thirteen). I had a few weeks till the dance night, so I had time to get my plan into action. It was easy. &#x200B; 1. Catch her alone. 2. Casually speak about how bad student council tasks were. 3. Mention the dance. 4. Ask her to go with me. &#x200B; First part of the plan turned out to be a lot more difficult that I thought. Women sure like to travel in packs! Lunchtime? Nope, surrounded by her ever-growing group of girlfriends. The thought of starting a conversation with my broken English in front of that group seemed to me no more dangerous that doing a haka in front of a group of lions while wearing nothing but a thong. Okay, so, not lunchtime; after student council meetings, maybe. I could casually walk in the direction of her locker, start step 2 of my brilliant plan to achieve high school romance. Sadly, she made friends with another girl in the student council... so no dance proposals after those meetings either. &#x200B; This went on for a few weeks. Before I could muster the courage to speak with her, boom. Friends. Millions of them, glowing red eyes, ready to laugh at me. &#x200B; I eventually gave up. The music task had already been completed, the dance was the following Friday, and the simple thought of leaving my grade students aside to spend some time with my friends from one grade below was good enough for me. Maybe I wasn’t as courageous as the heroes of the games that I loved. No problem, there’d be more dance nights, I supposed. I went down from my art class to my locker and I ran into her. &#x200B; Step 1: She caught YOU alone, but let’s say “Catch her alone”. Done! &#x200B; She smiled as she said: &#x200B; “Hi Loud!” &#x200B; She remembered my name! &#x200B; My eyes opened wide as I smiled and said hi back. &#x200B; She was going to the drama room, which was near my lockers, so I could walk her to them. I still remember that conversation quite well. &#x200B; “So... this whole music collection was really hard!” &#x200B; Step 2: Casually speak about how bad student council tasks were. Done! &#x200B; “Oh yea? Me and NotSoQuiet have been having a lot of fun with the decoration” &#x200B; “I bet! She looks more worried about getting attention from BlondePopularGuy!” Slowed down the walk, she matched my speed. &#x200B; “So I’m not the only one that has noticed!” &#x200B; “No” I laugh “He asked her to the dance the other day!” &#x200B; Step 3: Mention the dance. Done! &#x200B; She walked close to me, bumped her shoulder into mine playfully. &#x200B; “You don’t talk a lot but you sure understand a lot!” Quiet continued saying. &#x200B; At this point, most of you that know me think that I’m taking the piss, and that at no point in my life someone could have said that of me. But I’m not. I was a shy, shy teen. &#x200B; I bump my shoulder back into hers. “I do talk, see me talking right now? Not much to understand there” &#x200B; So the dance topic was on the air. Unexpected friendly physical contact, that I didn’t initiate, smiles all around. This was good. At this point my heart was beating hard. It’s funny, people always talk about how their hearts beat fast when they are nervous, it has never been my case. I just hear my heart beating in my ears, I feel it in my chest, in my throat, beating hard. &#x200B; “So um... Did anyone ask YOU to the dance?” This was my moment. I’m a confident, thirteen year old. &#x200B; “Nope! Did you ask anyone to the dance yourself?” She stopped, as she was going to go to the other building, looking at me with those big black eyes of hers. The sudden stop to the walk made it seem as if my efforts to keep this casual had gone out the window. &#x200B; Months of planning coming to an end. Everything was perfect. It was a small step for me, but a great step for all men. &#x200B; Step 4 ... &#x200B; “Nope! Hahahaha. Anyways, gotta go! I guess I’ll see you there!” &#x200B; Screw step 4! Run for your life! &#x200B; Five minutes later, I was softly bumping my head on the bathroom stall door. Repeating in my language out loud: &#x200B; “Dumb” &#x200B; “Dumb” &#x200B; “Dumb” &#x200B; I did get to speak with her at the dance, we almost danced together. But that’s another story. &#x200B; My partner told me that I can’t just end the story here. That, maybe giving advice would be a more meaningful end for this short read. &#x200B; I think this experience, and many others, have served me well. In a more present time, I’ve been a lot more direct with women. Some would make good stories, some wouldn’t. There have been a lot of mistakes: dumb phrases, old pickup lines... I think I’ve finally found a sweet spot in which I’m comfortable enough to talk to women. If I had to say something to take away from this, it wouldn’t be the old “Grow a pair!”, “Don’t let your Quiet go to the dance without knowing how you feel!” I will leave that to Disney, they’re far more eloquent than I’ll ever be. &#x200B; I’ll just say that if you ever find yourself softly banging your head against a wall, or a bathroom stall door, calling yourself “dumb”: &#x200B; Do not despair. &#x200B; There will be other dances. Looking back, I regret not having the guts to ask Quiet to the dance. She was a wonderful girl. Whenever I talk to teens these days, if it’s relevant, I tell them this story. They laugh, and call me silly. I’m happy to get them laughing. &#x200B; I don’t know if they are as afraid of their Quiet as I was of mine. &#x200B; \ If you've reached this far, thank you for taking the time to have a read. I really appreciate any feedback. English isn't my first language, so if I've gotten anything wrong. Do let me know. Once again, thanks.