“What are you doing? She’s way out of your league.”
I heard those words coming from a nearby mouth, and I could see my friend “Steve” wavering. “Steve,” I said, “do you think she’s out of your league?”
He didn’t look at me, his gaze still fixed on her. “Yeah, probably.”
“Why’s that? What puts her out of reach?”
Now he turned to me, and he seemed almost pleading as he explained. “Look at her! She’s gorgeous! Every guy in here is looking at her.”
“So what?”
Steve just looked at me, mouth open, and I continued. “If you want to talk to her, remember that she’s probably just like any other woman. The fact that she’s beautiful shouldn’t matter to you right now.”
“But she’s probably used to having tall, handsome, rich guys hitting on her. That’s probably the kind of guy she goes for. What am I–”
“Stop. You don’t know what kind of man she likes. You don’t know anything about her right now that tells you whether she’d like you or not. That’s what talking to her is for.”
At this point Steve’s jaw set in determined fashion. “You’re right. I’m going to go talk to her.” And he did.
I’d like to say that he got her number and they started up a nice relationship, but they didn’t. It turned out that she was taken, but Steve said it best later on that night: “She was really nice and I think she appreciated talking to me. I don’t know what I was so scared of.”
