From Wallflower to Casanova in 60 Seconds

I was desperately shy around women for a very long time.  Thank God for liquor and pushy, slutty and even child-molesting women.  But for them I might have remained a virgin until I was 30 years old.
 
But my shyness eventually came to a crashing end.  Astonishingly, I went from wallflower to Casanova in 60 seconds.
 
My breakthrough occurred when I was in my 20s, working as a law clerk in Houston in the summer after my second year of law school.  At first, every day was as dreary as the last.  I got up early, went to work, went home, exercised, showered, had dinner, read a book and then went to bed (alone, always alone).
 
Then one weekend I spotted a particularly attractive blonde sunning herself by the pool in apartment complex where I lived.  I was so bored and so lonely.  I desperately wanted to meet this exquisite creature and see what I could get away with.
 
But I was too shy and I knew it.
 
Then it suddenly occurred to me, “I’m new in town.  Nobody here really knows me.  They don’t know that I am crippled with shyness. If I behave like I am not shy, nobody is going to say, ‘Wow, what the hell suddenly got into him?’ They will just assume I have a naturally outgoing personality.”
 
So I put on my swim trunks and marched myself downstairs with the plan of fooling this gorgeous woman by impersonating a not-so-shy guy.
 
Despite my lack of experience, I pulled it off!  Playing the role of a suave and debonair ladies’ man (a kind of modern, Hispanic, young Humphrey Bogart), I won her over and went on a date with her that very evening!
 
Her name was “Sandy.”  I’ve written about her before.
 
https://tuscl.net/discussion.php?id=6777…
 
I was utterly amazed!  My “not-shy guy impersonation” was already paying dividends!
 
As I got to know Sandy over the ensuing days, I learned that a man who she worked with was also chasing after her.  According to Sandy, he was an American of Italian heritage and spoke fluent Italian.  He drove an expensive sports car. 
 
Everything about him sounded like serious competition to me.
 
Then I hatched a plan to win her over and eliminate my competition all in one fell swoop.
 
I decided to package my coup de grâce in a box of Crackerjacks.
 
I purchased a box of Crackerjacks and a package of Hershey’s Kisses.  I opened the box of Crackerjacks very carefully so that I could later re-seal the box and have it look as if it had never been opened.  I also took out the “surprise toy” that came inside Crackerjack boxes and opened it just as carefully so that I could later enclose my coup de grâce inside. 
 
I filled the box of Crackerjacks box with Hershey’s Kisses and placed my coup de grâce inside the surprise package, resealing both so that they appeared pristine.

https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=10761
 
I then gift-wrapped the now suspiciously heavy Crackerjacks box and put a nice, bright red bow on it.  The attached card identified the intended recipient of this peculiar package.
 
I got up very early the next morning and went to the office where Sandy worked.  The office was not open yet, so I put the gift inside the folded copy of the Wall Street Journal that had been delivered and left at the door of the office and then went on about my day.
 
That evening, as I was in my apartment eating dinner, someone knocked on my door.  It was Sandy.  She stepped inside my apartment, wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a big, marvelously sloppy kiss. 
 
She had evidently received my coup de grâce message.
 
Staring deeply into my eyes, she said she received my invitation and would be delighted to go to dinner with me. 
 
“I didn’t know you could speak Italian!” Sandy purred into my ear. 
 
Her scent was intoxicating.
 
“I don’t speak any Italian,” I confessed.
 
Sandy stepped back, her face full of bewilderment.
 
“But your invitation was written in Italian!” she exclaimed. “Why?  How did you manage that?”
 
“Because I wanted my competition, that guy in your office, to read my invitation to you.  I figured you would go to him for help since you don’t speak or read Italian.  As for how, I had help from a graduate student in the Italian department at the University of Houston.”
 
“I did ask him to tell me what the note said,” Sandy replied. “He read me your invitation in Italian and then translated it for me.”
 
“What else did he have to say?” I asked.
 
“He said he hopes you never meet his wife.”
 
 
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This was my coup de grâce message:
 
“Come una falena da una fiamma, sono attritor da te. Per favorer, accompagnami a una festa Italians venerdì sera.”
 
“Like a moth to a flame, I am attracted to you. Please accompany me to an Italian feast on Friday night.”
 
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We did go to a nice Italian restaurant the following Friday night.
 
I made out like a bandit!
 
I’ve never been shy since.