Rusty

Much like my blog-writing skills (if indeed I ever possessed any) my ability to 'engage women' (pick up) has become rusty. This really shouldn't come as a surprise, for I have been well and truly out of the game for the better part of three years (or was it four? It's been so long that I've forgotten). In fact, during my hiatus from dabbling in relationships, and continuing hiatus mind you, I have not had the slightest inclination (or perhaps it is more accurate to say serious inclination) to become intimately involved with another. As a result, I am now prone to spontaneously devolve into a babbling fool when gorgeous women come my way.

Now I will be the first to admit that I am not immune to (wo)man's insatiable desire for affection and intimacy - even I, stoic and emotionally stale as I am - will from time to time, feel pangs of loneliness. Yes, even the proudest bachelor has moments of uncertainty - an identity crisis if you will.

5:07p.m, Thursday evening, three weeks ago, Wynyard station. Identity crisis. I sat next to one of the most gorgeous women I have ever encountered. Now there is one thing worse than being a babbling fool in front of a woman that interests you and that is not even being capable of babbling. I stole glances in silence - such was the extent of my courage.

Fast forward two weeks. 5:01pm, Friday evening, Passionflower, Kensington. Identity crisis (at this rate I am certain to suffer from bipolar disorder). A gorgeous waitress. Rewind and repeat. Silence.

"I'm rusty."

What an excuse.

The fact of the matter is, I was not rusty. I am not rusty. Rusty assumes that there was steel and resolve there to oxidise after lengthy exposure to the air and to liberation. In retrospect, I was never made of steel. I never had such resolve. I did not become rusty. I merely maintained my malleable constitution: a soft, cheap plastic that bends at the slightest touch. There is no rusty bullshit. Just a lack of balls and a pathetic knack for retrospective analysis. Someone needs to harden the fuck up, pronto.