The Night: Friday night, 11:30pm, 77 degrees.
The Venue: Prime Bar. Dallas, TX
The Liquor: Jack Daniels. (3 fingers, 2 rocks, and a splash of water… just like Sinatra did it)
Our Hero: David. 28 years old. Single. Banking. A good guy.
His Thoughts: Here we go again…
David stands with his buddies in an all too familiar scene.
Huddled together with his friends, talking about football and his shit job, while not talking about the beautiful girls around him.
They look girls up and down when they pass, but dart their eyes to foreign objects when eye contact is made.
Yeah, I was definitely looking at that wall… Such a great wall…
Did she see me?
This nervous bitching out with his friends has lasted way too long.
10+ years of sharing the same old stories is starting to catch up to him.
These nights have passed one too many times with no success. – No crazy stories. No real connection. No love. No girl.
Three Sinatra’s in, David’s starting to muster up some courage.
He decides he should go to the bar. As he’s making his way through the crowd, David sees a girl standing with her friends by a table.
To say she’s hot is like saying John Legend is sort of a good singer.
Her brown hair, pouty lips, and slender figure immediately tap into his most primal desires.
He continues awkwardly staring for a moment before trying to play it cool.
She looks up and he looks away, like always.
The excuses begin to run through his head like cars over an underpass.
She’s with her friends right now, I’ll talk to her later…
She’s standing next to that guy and I’ll bet they’re together…
I talk to her after I get another drink…
– Suddenly, David has a Moment of clarity-
A moment where David’s finally fed up enough to do something about his life.
He decides to make a change.
He chooses to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.
He approaches.
One foot in front of the other. Confidence. A smile.
She turns to face him.
He reaches her and stretches his hand out. “Hi. I’m David.”
Her warm brown eyes gently entrance him.
Her face lights up as she smiles, and reaches her hand to meet his. “Hi. I’m Jessica.”
And that’s where the real lesson begins.
The purpose of this story is not some overly dramatic conclusion.
It’s not about a perfect ending with chandelier-hanging sex or even a number for a first date.
The point is the moment.
She sees you.
You see her.
You’re approaching.
And in that moment, always remember:
She’s Your Biggest Fan.
Why do you think girls do what they do?
Why did she get all dressed up tonight?
Why did she put so much effort into her makeup, clothes, body, hair, shoes, and everything else they go through?
Why has she been putting herself out there with dating sites, bars, tinder, and dance clubs?
Why did she pay for an Uber and that first drink she’s holding?
She didn’t do these things hoping you would fail.
She didn’t do these things hoping you wouldn’t approach her.
And she certainly didn’t fucking do these things to be ignored.
It’s the opposite.
She wants to be swept off her feet.
She wants to be wanted.
But more than anything in the world, she wants the man who’s going to take her away from this place and make her feel depths, emotions, and physical pleasure like she never thought possible.
She wants a man who can literally stop time for her. Where she can spin and fall and laugh and fall in love.
She wants to lay in bed with this man for hours. Laughing. Smiling. Sharing. Kissing. Fondling. Fucking.
She’s begging for this.
She’s dreamed about it her whole life,
“Please, please, PLEASE, DON’T be like all the other guys. Don’t ask me if I want a drink or talk about your boring job or the fucking weather. Please be different. Please, for the love of God, Take. Me. Away.”
So, just remember: in that moment, she’s rooting for you.
She always has been and while you’re nervous, and debating whether to approach or not, and questioning whether she’ll like you or not, don’t forget, in that moment:
She’s Your Biggest Fan