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How
Do You Talk to a Girl?
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Talking to a girl may be the most wonderful experience a
person can have in their entire life. If you don't know how
to talk to a girl, I would drop everything I'm doing and learn
that. I would talk to girls in check-out counters, I would
talk to girls in line at the movies, I would talk to any girl
I could, just for practice. The rewards for simply talking
to a girl are greater than anything you could ever imagine.
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Here is an essay I wrote in 1980 about talking to a girl.
I was writing erotic poems at the time, and the essay is an
apology. Here it is:
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"One or two people – possibly fewer –
have asked me, 'Why do you write such dirt?' Dirt? Hell, it's
downright pornography, and that comes straight from the, er,
hip.
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"But seriously, a good scatological question deserves
some forthright answers. Why do I do it? First, to cultivate
exquisitely weird flowers in myself; second, to keep monkeys
and children from playing with their wienies and eenies; third,
tell me why the birds do sing and I'll tell you why I do my
thing – actually, I'm secretly training for the
broad jump in the Olympics of 2000; and fourth, the following
true story.
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"One winter day in Cambridge is like so many others.
But on this particular Saturday, Wendy melted the snow. Picture
a poor weather-torn computer programmer in the Patisserie
Francois enjoying the warm human traffic. Suddenly she appears
and sits down at the same tiny table. With a wistful crepuscular
smile unlike anything I've ever seen, she begins to chat.
Can a person's Operating System go meiotic?
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"But there is a part of your mind that is like the happy
edge of twilight. You notice something unusual at the edge
of your unconscious. It's a little dark and baffling –
Wait! Now it's clear. Wendy pops out of her burrow like
a little brown animal under the full moon. She darts about,
then leads you back to her burrow where she disappears.
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"Now hold on. This is just Wendy we are talking to,
this is the Patisserie, this is the table, a cup of coffee ....
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"But with your curiosity fully awake, you can't help
peering into that little hole where she disappeared. You peep
in ... just as she pops out with all her clothes off
and kind of prancing around. She must know! All that's
across the table is a wry half-smile – What's
wrong, baby?
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