“Tell me the story!”

—“I’m hoping we can talk sometime before I leave,” I yelled to *****, my pretty lifeguard friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming pool.
I was already in the pool, and ***** was walking along side it.
“You have 25 seconds,” my aquacise-instructor said.
“Not enough time,” I said.
Our aquatic balance-training class was about to begin, and I was hoping I could talk to ***** before class began, but I got there late.
“Why is she talking to me?” I keep thinking to myself. “We’re not married = she’s not my wife. I lob stuff at her that would throw off the average person.
The average male would be completely turned off.”
Telling her that was a set-up, readers. By doing that, I was letting her know I wanted to talk to her = setting her up to listen to me.
And I bet she’d wanna. That's how ***** is, and I don’t understand why!

---

—Aquacise finished: “Time for me to go swim some laps!” ***** said.
“I hope some day I can tell you my elevator story,” I shouted as she walked away.
SCREECH! That stopped her in her tracks. She turned around and looked right at me for about 20 seconds = eye to eye.
She wants to hear my story and right now, BobbaLew.
Yrs Trly just performed a conversation trick, readers. It always works, and I’m just noticing.
I gave her permission to keep walking away, and giving her that permission was much friendlier than hurling my story at her outta the clear blue sky.
Suddenly she wants to hear the story; lap-swimming can wait.
Can I compress my story into 10-20 seconds?
I try; suddenly I got the audience I was fishing for.
“I get on an elevator down in Altoona, and a pretty young blonde was in there alone. Not eye-candy, but fairly attractive, 30-35 or so.
‘Been outside yet?’ the girl asked.
‘Once,’ I said.
‘Is it still cold out?’ she continued.
‘Not too bad,’ I said; ‘unless you’re standing outside for three hours with your brother waiting for a train!’
‘YIPPEE!’ she smiled. ‘A guy is talking to me, and he’s not hitting on me!’
I could see it in her eyes, and we were wearing masks.
We continued talking even after the elevator.”
“*****,” I said; “I’m no longer scared of pretty girls, and I can thank my dog for that. Wanting to be petted, he’d drag me into meeting some gorgeous young cutie-pie.
‘Oh what a pretty dog,’ she’d exclaim. ‘Can I pet him?’
Here I am talking to another pretty girl.”
“I notice the eye-contact,” ***** said.
“You’re first to say that,” I would tell her.
What I did say was “Yep, I got much better at that, and here I am looking directly at you!
I also noticed if I’m the least bit apprehensive or tentative, that reflects onto you. You won’t be so happy to see me. I’m afraid to make the gamble, so I avoid you.
‘So knock on the glass dude,’ and I think I saw you smile a little the last time I did that.”
“I’m glad you think about this stuff,” ***** said.
She’ll probably think about it later herself.