He follows her down the hall.
He has an excuse-the recycling bin in his hands has been stuffed full of stuff-papers, folders, checkbooks, yearbooks. He's pretty sure he'll need some of this stuff in the future, but it doesn't matter. He'd recycle his diploma if it means some face time with the cutest face in Kilgo.
A few days later, he hears her walk outside his room. He always knows which steps are hers--her favorite Pumas make a subtle squeak, and he has learned to listen.
Quickly, he grabs his trashcan, and throws in everything on his rug: Great Hall containers, wrapping paper, term papers due tomorrow, his only pair of dress shoes.
"Oh hi," he says, and tries to look surprised. "Just taking out the trash." She smiles, vaguely; he notices the way her neck curves out of a baggy sweater and loves her even more.
"Hello," she says, and disappears, not knowing that she's made his day.
"I want to ask her out," he says, while digging his Oxfords out of the garbage. "But what am I supposed to say? Uh, hi; I'm your secret stalker?"
"Besides," he adds, as I smother a laugh, "girls are all liberated now, right? She knows my name. If she wants to date me, she'll figure out my number and call me up herself."
Flashback to 1997: Sophomore year of high school, Blues Traveler is playing on our Volvo stereo as my mom drives me to school.
"Why can't I ask him out?" I ask, applying a thick slick of Clinique Almost Lipstick.
"Faran," warns my mother, "he knows your name. If he wants to date you, he'll figure out your number and call you up himself."
I grab my Jansport backpack and storm away, thinking if girls could really do everything guys could, it would have included asking someone to dinner and a make-out.
Fast forward back to now, when he sighs, "Whatever. I give up, I don't care, I'll just wait until I'm 30 and order a bride from a Ukranian village. It's not like there's dating at Duke."
No, it's not like there is. And with the gridlock that comes when we're not proactive, it's not like there will be anytime soon.
Whose job is it to ask someone out? Yours. Yes, girls can do anything guys can (except, as I've said before, pee standing up, although some of us have definitely tried). Yes, it's been known for girls to ask guys out. But we are women, not mind readers. Smiling, holding the door, asking us for our art history notes--these are not an effective means to score. If you're crushing, you have no excuse.
I tell this to my friend sifting through the trash and searching for his wallet, which he threw in during his last encounter with the Hall Girl.
"But what if she doesn't like me?" he moans.
"Then great," I say. "Once you know she doesn't like you, you can get over her and find someone better."
The next day, he hears the Puma squeak, "Oh hi," he says, and once again she smiles. He notices the way her eyes blink green, then blue, and knows it's now or never. "Would you like to grab dinner this weekend?"
The scariest moments are when you hear yourself saying something, and he heard every word of his request.
"That would be great," she smiles at him, and he almost has a coronary, "but this week I'm really busy."
She walks away, and he tries hard not to stare at her ass as it bounces down the hall in a pair of Blue Cult jeans.
"So what's the point?" he moans an hour later at the Loop. "I asked her out, and she turned me down! I feel like such an idiot!"
I smile and suss him out.
"You're not an idiot," I say, through milkshake sips, "but you have to realize that the reward in this whole thing isn't getting the girl. It's getting over the fear of asking someone out. Okay, so you got rejected. Are you dying? Are you broke? Did Guinness go out of business?"
He smiles sheepishly. "Okay," I say, "so there you go. You didn't lose anything, and when the right person comes along, you won't be scared to ask her out."
"I know," he grinned, "but I still feel like s---."
Freshman year, my best friend dragged me out of his bed. My head was throbbing, I wanted to puke, and when he turned the lights on, I thought I might collapse. He plopped me on his kitchen table and made me drink a margarita.
I learned an important lesson that day: The best way to get rid of a hangover is just to drink more. The same applies to asking people out, especially if you get canned. Taking risks is good for you, and, besides, you never know when someone you like might actually feel the same way.
"That never happens," laughs the guy, now wallowing in a 'Dillo pitcher.
But trust me, it does. The only way to change something is to get off your Docker's clad ass and do it yourself.
If you like someone, tell them. If they don't feel the same way, fine. Things that aren't supposed to happen don't happen; your soul-mate is not going to reject you, even if the chick down the hall does.
There are a lot of beautiful girls at this University and guess what? We're sick of waiting for you guys to do something about it. Some of us are okay with asking guys out; some of us play by the Rules and wouldn't dare. But stop coming up with excuses to talk to us. If you want something, come and get it.
And boys, if you want us, you need to come and get us now. 'Cause soon, we're going to start wanting men instead.
Faran Krentcil is a Trinity senior and a senior editor of Recess.
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