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Introversion

Right now I feel anxious. My hands are shaking, my heart is racing, and adrenaline is coursing through my veins. My mind is attempting in vain to find something, anything to say, while simultaneously being logical, reminding me that its not the content of the conversation but the framing and enacting of it that matters most. Beads of sweat are starting to form from a heat only I can feel, radiating from the stares and judgment of those around me. Problem is, none of that exists outside of my head. People are happily carrying about their days blissfully unaware of the battle raging in my head. The cause of it is unknown to me, those times where my confidence vacates the premises and abandons me, leaving me to fend for myself against disillusionment and shyness. The cause of the behavior cant be traced, but the cause of my present situation? Im sitting next to a pretty girl at the bar.

Some that have read my blog (believe it or not, I have fans), have operated under the impression that Im a Lothario, a ladies man constantly on, perpetually on the prowl. When I got that first e-mail I was flattered, and around the 5th or 6th I broke out in laughter, because I am anything but. Im not confident 70% of the time, let alone 100%. Ive let garbage escape my mouth unerringly since my 15th birthday, and the flow will continue until the day I die. On the page Im an artisan, a craftsman of the written word. Poetic prose has come as easily to me as breathing my entire life. Speaking, especially spontaneously in the moment? I tend to do better after a shot of whiskey, or 7, dulls my inhibitions a bit. On a date, when Im thrust into the arena with the tiger scantily clad in a sundress and those wooden heeled sandals women wear, which I love despite not knowing the name of, my eloquent writer's voice comandeers my vocal chords and takes us both for a ride. I count it among my greatest strengths, and can prove with personal evidence that has been tested empirically that a formidable vocabulary is an impressively potent aphrodisiac. When this doesnt work, however, and Im left floundering awkwardly, gasping for the conversational equivalent of oxygen, I truly live up to the title of douchebag. I brag too much and inquire too little, my humor becomes brash and insulting rather than subtle and teasing, and I give off the vibe of sexually repulsive fratboy rather than sexually adventerous rogue. In short, I become the dreaded "thirsty" guy that is universally abysmal to women, the one that repels them like a magnet of opposite polarity. Thankfully, although I am an ape, Im a relatively smart and coherent one, so these lapses into meathead territory are sparse and brief. Honestly, while this mindset is useful for attracting disposable pleasures, it does little to pull a woman of substance, and after subsisting on McDoubles and Virginia Gentleman for so long, Im ready, almost salivating, for prime rib and fine cognac. Now I just need my brain to catch up with my heart.

Ive been told Im too aggressive, that I need to be docile. Unfortunate, because while Im naturally introverted, the latter isnt in my nature, nor will it ever be. Being weaned as a young man on Tucker Max, Maddox and Raul Felix had a huge hand in my somewhat abrasive nature, and, given the chance, I wouldnt change a thing. However, given the clarity of hindsight, particularly the past few months, Ill admit that a heavy handed approach to pick up and relationships may yield short term gains, but in the long run its a burrowing stock. Being direct and sincere may lead to fun, but if you want your relationships to extend past Saturday night, a soft touch and a little obfuscation of the heart works wonders and miracles. Its been so long since Ive been indirect this way, it feels both counter-intuitive and counter-productive. But, it was the first style of game I championed, so a return to it wont be difficult in action, just in preemptive thought. Besides, it's much more natural during the day, especially in my normal hangouts, than direct game, which really only at its most useful in a club or sexually charged bar. The artistry of it appeals to me as well, specifically replacing the elaboration of your desires with cunning and subtle hints. Conversation is a cousin to writing, and similarly to good writing, excellent conversation requires personal depth and intellectual dexterity. As I continue to grow as a writer, my ability to convserse with women and people in general will follow suit. It will develop the ability to freestyle verbally and literarily, and shock atrophied, dormant synapses into growth. It will build my mind, and in addition to building my body, this is the best thing I can possibly do, as the two are synergistic.  I could continue to wax indulgently about this, but the hedges have been cleared and no longer shield the correct path for me to take. Now I can begin my journey forward in earnest. Forgive me if I stumble.

Each new connection and opportunity to speak with somebody is a blank slate, or in my case, an unwritten, virgin page, begging for a verbal pen to grace it with the ink of socialibility. Its a playground, a sandbox undisturbed and pure in its uncorrupted innocence. But life isnt a bonzai garden, its a well traveled beach, with footprints strewn chaotically about, only to be washed clean and fresh with each fresh wave rolling across it. This is the mindset that Ive had in the past, and the one that I will from this moment on expend all waking effort to obtain and maintain. I will stumble, fall, and fail, but I will do so willingly. Im introverted but possess a flair for extroversion unquestionably. Life isnt meant to be half lived and Im not half a man, so what right do I have to not exercise both sides of my nature? The answer, none whatsoever. Fuck negativity. Ill see yall in the field.

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