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Then one day, this incredibly cute blondie named Cathy walked up to me at soccer practice.
I'd seen her in the hallways...and in my dreams at night. And now here she was, out of nowhere coming over to talk to ME.
The fact that she was dressed in her field hockey outfit made things all the more intense.
For those of you not blessed to have gone to a school with either field hockey or lacrosse teams for the girls, let's just say that outfitting the right girl with a ponytail and a kilt in combination with Adidas cleats trumps a cheerleader uniform...almost every time.
Nowadays, lacrosse and field hockey players apparently don't look like they used to. They pretty much dress like the boys.
Bummer for you younger guys.
But anyway, Cathy was one of the cutest girls my 17-year-old mind had ever comprehended. And to this day, she probably still doesn't know that.
Why?
Well, as it turns out, Cathy didn't come talk to me about herself. And in retrospect, how crazy of an expectation would that have been of a 16-year-old girl anyway?
Instead, she looked at me with her big green eyes and pouty little smile and said, "Um...excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute, Scot?"
For starters, there was just something about how she sort of called me "Scaw-at" instead of "Scot". Didn't these girls know how irresistibly cute it was when they did that?
Dumbfounded, I responded, "Better hurry...your sixty seconds are ticking away" or, "Only if you bought me something really nice."
Nah, I'm just kidding.
Actually, it was more like, "Duh...ummm...ah...[voice cracking and barely audible] yeah...I mean, um...sure, YEAH."
Cathy smiled brightly, eyes shining.
"Oh good! Do you know who my friend Christa is?"
Scrambling, I feigned ignorance (the default mode of a guy with zero game, by the way), and stumbled over the words, "Uhhh...I'm not sure. Maybe not."
I lied.
Christa was Cathy's friend. Basically the brown-haired version of her, only with big, bright blue eyes instead of green ones and an even more irresistibly spunky personality.
Had I been more creative than most seventeen-year-old boys back in 1983 I may have dreamed of both Cathy and Christa at night.
Instead, no thanks to my conventional Western mindset, they had to take turns.
"Well, she kinda likes you. Omigod, she'd like KILL me if she knew I was telling you this, but I think you should talk to her. Maybe ask her out, 'K?. Oh wow, gotta go before I get in trouble...bye!"
She gave me that little wave with the middle two fingers that girls her age do, then skipped back over to field hockey practice.
The fog of what had just happened didn't lift for a while, so I never realized how impossible it was that Christa didn't know her best friend was 100 yards away talking to me.
Therefore, it also never occurred to me that she must have sent Cathy to begin with.
So what did I do instead?
I waited a full two weeks before getting the nerve to approach Christa, somehow rationalizing and over-analyzing the open invitation I'd been given.
Two honkin' weeks, man.
But when I did finally meet her, and suggested we hang out sometime, she giggled and said, "Okay, sure! I was wondering when you were ever going to talk to me...I thought maybe you didn't like me."
I'm telling you...even from an early age, female human beings want us as guys to take the lead.
So Christa became my steady girlfriend, almost immediately.
Having somehow "lucked" into my situation, so I reasoned, I wasn't about to let that little chick go.
Soon I obsessed over her, ultimately to the point where she called me one night after about five months of all this and told me, "Um...I think we should break up. But we can still be friends."
We've been over the "Just Be Friends" talk what causes it time after time around there. There's no need to reiterate that.
Instead, here's the real point in this context: I had automatically assumed that only pure luck had caused Christa to like me.
Since I couldn't pinpoint any apparent legitimate reason why a girl would be attracted to me, it followed logically in my mind that this was an isolated instance that I'd better milk for all it was worth.
So when she liked me, I grabbed hold and wouldn't let go.
And when she ditched me, I was a babbling mess in need of psychiatric help.
But here's the truly weird part.
A mere couple of days later, I called a girl from another nearby high school who I had met on a weekend trip a few months prior.
She had given me her number (probably because she actually liked me...go figure). Now that Christa had bailed on me, I used it.
This particular girl was another spunky, smiley little blondie with sparkling green eyes, like Christa's friend Cathy...only she was named Stacey.
Stacey was at least as cute as either Christa or Cathy.
But in my twisted mind, the greatest irony of all was that she said "YES" enthusiastically when I suggested we should meet and spend some time together.
I felt flat-out stupid for having thought Christa was my only option.
And let me tell you, stupidity morphed into flat-out nausea when I read what some other girls wrote in my yearbook after graduation my senior year.
Clearly, I had squandered many, many opportunities with very cute girls all throughout high school.
One of these days I should take digital photos of pages from my senior yearbook, post them on Facebook and let you guys throw rotten veggies at me and laugh your collective butts off.
You'd see what I'm talking about plain as day. That's how blatantly dumb I'd been.
Why did I let that happen? Because I didn't think any of them could possibly really like me.
But all the while the truth had been that Christa wasn't a fluke.
She was a perfectly rational girl, able to decide for herself what guy she likes and why.
So were (and are) most of the others out there.
In fact, it's safe to assume that all women are, no matter whether they're 16 or 116, or anywhere in between. (Well, 116 is pushing it, but you get my point.)
Guys, here it is: If ONE woman likes you, there ARE OTHERS out there who will also.
Bet on it.
Roll the dice and bet BIG on it.
"Luck" has nothing to do with it, actually.
If you are attractive to the first woman who comes along, there WILL be a second.
And a third.
And a fourth.
I already hear some of the excuses you might have.
Save them.
I realize not every woman is going to like you. That's not an excuse, that's human nature.
In fact, at least one of my friends back in high school used to be quick to tell me, "Dude, Christa's not all that, man."
His girlfriend was a completely different kind of girl, so it was all good. To each his own.
But Christa didn't really care what he thought, as far as I could tell. And neither did I.
And nor should you care what those who arent't attracted to you think.
The point remains: If one woman likes you, others will too.
In fact, they probably already do.
If you've had at least one woman show interest in you recently, you're cheating yourself by considering that as having been a "freakish accident".
And hey, looking back, was the last time a woman liked you a long time ago?
All that means is that you have it in you.
You just have to put aside what's happened recently and go back and get what's rightfully yours.
Maybe you are even brash enough to think that no woman has ever liked you.
If that's the case, you've been blind to how women indicate their subtle interest in you.
Either that or you've completely neglected your social skills and/or personal hygiene.
And that, my friend, isn't any woman's fault.
My point is that no matter what, you should have at one point or another experienced at least one woman having shown interest in you.
And that means that you should understand yourself as being interesting to other women out there also.
Keep your eyes open for the women out there who are digging you.
What do you think? Share your thoughts in the comments below!