note: it’s the week of the re-up. new readers love it, old readers loathe it, and i’m just tryna get my blog respect back. i put this in “hall of fame post” categories, and i’m looking for more to add to this section. let’s get it.

shy guys typically have visions of grandeur, but most times things just don’t work out in the end. keep living vicariously through those music videos, like this one.

that’s what the shy guy wants the club to be like. in reality, the club will never look like that unless you make 6 figures or higher, or are cool with the promoters. and even in those circumstances, you need to find some video vixens to sprinkle around the place, just to be safe.

truth be told, the typical shy guy will always be outside of his element at the club. it’s not terrain they feel comfy in, and there’s little they can do to change this. apart from spending precious time to differentiate himself with the proper outfit, as well as spend some paper on the crucial shape up, just getting into the venue is in itself intimidating. the thing is, it doesn’t matter if a shy guy tries to pump himself up for the occasion, jamming the ultimate party playlist and sipping on that liquid courage. once he drops $20, steps through the metal detector, and has security give him a roughhousing that is more commonly known as the “pat down,” he freezes up.

why!? i’ll tell you why. because there’s way too much stuff going on in there. just look at that picture. it’s chaos in an enclosed space. everybody looks like they’re doing something different. you have the ballers, t-paining the megan good look-alikes with patron shots all night. there’s also that clique of fine dimes that will never stop dancing in their private circles with each other. you know it’s possible for even the lamest guy to leave the club with some digits, a name, a dance, something! so you and your homies focus, and work on getting yours for the night.

it’s a jungle out there. similar to vietnam during the war, almost. it’s too loud and packed for you to concentrate, let alone rap to the cute, dark-skinned beauty in the corner. but you try your luck anyway, and make your way through the crowd, spilling your long island iced tea on like 7 angry broads while in transit. when you get there, it doesn’t work out like how you envisioned it in your mind. somehow, she confuses your harmless “hey, what’s going on?” with a creepy “i wanna see your thong,” and storms away ferociously, but not without cursing you out in front of everybody.

now what!? you’re a little shook. you lost all desire to go approach that chick with the frizzy fro because you know something similar could happen. and besides, you’ve seen dudes getting iced all night! i mean, how about that awful glance that they throw a guy while dancing with them, to make sure they’re cute enough! nobody wants to go through that, that’s horrible. it’s even worse when her friends make that call for her, and you don’t even realize what just happened until they’ve migrated away and you’re sitting there like a sucker in the middle of the dance floor while the song is still playing. goodness.

by the time you’ve devised your next plan of action, the lights are on, and you’ve made virtually no moves the whole night. my advise? stick to the house party. people are more friendly there. plus, nobody will ever misinterpret your words, either.

note: Re-Up! Tryna get some new readers while appeasing the old ones with a throwback joint that people appreciated. Ha.

you know exactly who that girl above is. sure, you don’t know her by name or anything like that. but you know the role she plays. she’s one of the two dimes in the subway ride home. like, cheat-on-your-girl, must-have dimes. i’m talking like spend-your-entire-paycheck-on-a-date type dime. it may sound intense, but i’m just being real. i’m a man, so i know how men think. even if they aren’t all that, you gotta show them some love, because they’re just right there on the train, posted like a mailbox. and they are dying to get hit on. or so you think.

some people have the balls to approach these girls. i call them the hero. gutsy, risk-taking dudes. they have pick-up lines for days, and they can start conversations anywhere, anytime. they don’t even care if the woman has worked 10 crazy hours in the office, because they know that they can make it all better. they believe they can fly, like jordan, or a pre-pee-on-you kelz. i just can’t fade it. i feel like the last thing they want is me tryna put that metaphorical bug in their ear, spitting game on the train. and i think that’s what qualifies me as a certified shy guy.

tabi‘s fly, but i’m shy.

what is a shy guy!? i haven’t even come up with the true definition yet. i just know how they act. shy guys only thrive in environments where there’s little or no pressure. like house parties where you know everybody. or like a school dance, because everybody you dance with, you sat behind in math class or their mom used to pick you up from the carpool line from school. or you took the bus one and a half hours with them every day. like me. or maybe i’m totally wrong, but you know what i mean. no pressure environments, you thrive. because you don’t have to commit to anything, or be too decisive.

the subway definitely isn’t that spot. too many unfamiliar faces. if you want anything to happen on the subway, you’ve gotta put yourself out there like max did in a goofy movie. and if you don’t know what i’m talking about, then that should be number one on the netflix queue. conversation is one thing, but conversation with one of those two dimes on the train is a completely different thing. and that’s why shy guys typically don’t do good work on the subway. the club is even worse, and i need a completely different entry devoted to that sometime in the future.

i feel like all shy guys eventually transition into the hero. it happens, but there’s a right time and place, and all that good stuff. karma, or something like that. i tried it one day. NYC. subway. last year. she was bad, too. like michael’s 3rd album, for real. dominican and black, i think. kinda like homegirl in the picture, sans the turtle neck. in fact, she was extra fly. dressed like she just came from brunch with jay and beyonce. i hit her with my camera while it was dangling from my wrist, and she just smiled. and then i worked magic.

her number is still in the phone book. 917…blah blah blah. and i fumbled it. she just never got the crucial call/text, and i don’t even know why. who knows. that’s probably why i don’t sport the cape and mask just yet. but i’m ok with that. besides, i got like a million and one things going on in my life, like that old juvenile song. but a girl ain’t nothin.

sike.

re-up, i got writer’s block, hopefully seeing this up will give me the ability to write more articles like this. this is what i want the site to consist of, not just music. enjoy, it’s a throwback from last year.

press play to set the mood for this post. otherwise, it won’t be nearly as great.

there’s things that are innate, and there are things that are learned. hollering at a girl is a learned trait as far as i can tell. who knows where you pick it up. now, when i say hollering, i don’t mean facebook/myspace pimping. i mean finding her out and about in georgetown or on newbury street, giving her the crucial eye, or the smile, and going in for the kill. sometimes you get it, and sometimes you miss. sometimes you’re almost there, and you fumble it. allow me to illustrate the perfect metaphor. don’t even try and skip it. you need to see the clip.

good god! girls can be like that rabbit sometimes: evasive and elusive. some dudes have persistence, and some don’t care what happens in the end. they can deal with that rejection. they’ll find another rabbit chillin in another field. ain’t no biggie. shy guys can’t fade that. we don’t have time to be carried like the food you get from a carryout. shy guys are conservative for the most part, because those embarrassing moments are can bring that ego down to about a -2 on the 1-10 scale. no way josé.

do you think we want to be like this!? hell nah! we want to be able to sweet talk ladies like cory did topanga. and we can. we just didn’t develop that game in our younger days. or maybe we had it, but lost our touch when people got real sexy after puberty. whatever. my point is, unless you’re extra bold and can switch your style as dramatically as a bisexual, the chances of the skill of hollering won’t develop like one would like.

but like like wayne said on this song, where there’s a will, there’s a way. if you want to, you can do it with a crucial short cut. just like how baseball players have their steroids and hgh to hit barry bonds-esque homers, shy guys have liquor courage to spit vicious game. venomous. oh boy!

liquor courage, a phrased recently coined by my dude whose identity will be concealed for security purposes, is when you take a few drinks to the head, and then you hit the streets on a mean, mean mission to find the baddest joint out there. scenario: the club. you know every breezy in the joint is looking gorgeous. regardless of whether its natural beauty or just the make up, you want to talk to one of them! and yet, you’re frozen. shiiit. the power move!? the bar. or the pre-game. whichever floats your boat. the latter is typically cheaper, and more powerful. after that, you feel like superman, and anything you want can come out your mouth, with absolutely no remorse. college students, i know you feel me. as i am legally of age to drink alcohol, i can safely say that on those nights where i just may be twisted like some dreadlocks, i’ve done some great work. i’ll leave it at that. a wise man once told me, people love confident people. that drank will have you damn near cocky. even you’ll be surprised at the marvelous things you’ll be saying to your newfound lady friend. keep it under control, because liquor courage has a sweet spot. i know i’m in it when my vision is looking similar to this:

yessir. the sweet spot. a little blurry, but you still know what she looks like. once you exceed that, though, you could make the horrible mistake of hollering at a girl that looks like the main character from hell boy. or (arguably) worse, you could wake up like this guy:

not to scare you or anything. that’s just what it is. let me know if you can co-sign this liquor courage.

previously, in the shy guy chronicles:

shy guy vs. dime on the subway

can i set the stage real quick with some throwback pharcyde please?

thank you. so you’ve done great work. that liquor courage did the job, helping you grow you the balls that you needed to ask that extra fly girl who looks similar to the dark-skinned beauty in that frontin’ music video for her number. “let’s kick it sometime soon,” you say with a smile. she’s with it. and you feel like rocky did when he smacked fire outta apollo creed for the first time. congratulations. you’ve just booked a beautiful woman. all you need is a trip to the carry out to make the night a complete success.

fast forward about a month or so. where’s the beautiful dark-skinned beauty!? nowhere to be found…not in the incoming/outgoing calls, not in the text inbox…oh boy. did you just get played? most likely, nah man. but why, then?

i don’t mean to stretch any more sports metaphors further than they should be. but if the shy guy was a football player, his nickname may just be “butterfingers.” at first glance, it appears as though he can’t hold the rock when the pressure’s on. but is it as simple as that? or is there more to it?

i invite everybody to let me know why the fumble occurs. what steps didn’t homeboy follow? and does this situation also happen vice versa? it shouldn’t be a secret, and some of us out here wanna know. hit that comment section and spread the good word.