He caught her eye across the room, and winked. She smiled shyly and returned her attention to her drink.
"Well, Ernie, what are you waiting for?" he asked himself. "An engraved invitation?"
Then the self-talk began, all of the doubts, fears and insecurities that made this so difficult.
"What is she turns me down?" he thought. "What if she laughs in my face?"
He didn't know if his ego could stand it.
"What if we don't like each other after all?" he considered. "Those situations are so unpleasant, so awkward."
"Where'll we go? What'll we do? What if I don't like her friends? Worse yet, what if I find out she doesn't have any friends? What does that say about her?"
His mind whirled with the possibilities.
"What if she has this awful laugh, a hideous cackle that makes everyone turn and look?"
He sighed to himself.
"C'mon, Ern," he chided himself. "You'll never know . . ."
"We'll probably hit it off right away," he told himself hopefully.
"She'll probably laugh at all of my jokes and think I'm the greatest thing to come her way, and things will move right along."
And then it fired right up again.
"I wonder how many partners she's had before now?" he contemplated. "Are we going to have to have tests before we can get intimate?"
"And if we do get along, what about our families? Will they get along? Getting along with in-laws is sometimes critical to a relationship. What if they hate me? Or think I'm taking advantage of her? What if my family thinks she's taking advantage of me? What if one of us has to choose between this relationship and their family? That's horrible!"
Out of the corner of his eye Ernie caught movement.
"Oh, no!" he cried inwardly.
Another man had stopped at the table occupied by the object of his attention.
"I've lost out! Ernie, you dimwit, you louse, you mope!" he seethed at himself.
"Why didn't you walk over there when you had the chance" he raged quietly.
Barely breathing, Ernie watched the meeting from too far away, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance.
After what seemed an interminable time, the man moved on. Ernie felt a relief like that which comes from a governor's reprieve.
"Maybe I've still got a chance," he told himself. "Maybe . . ."
"No, she probably doesn't want to be with anybody tonight. She's probably trying to forget someone, doesn't want to start anything right now, she's afraid of relationships."
Ernie shrugged mentally.
"I'm probably better off without her. There are more fish in the sea. I can take my time."
But then reality set in.
"Okay, Ernie, it's getting late, you're not getting any younger, and you really do want someone to talk to tonight."
So at 7:45 pm, he hoisted himself up out of his chair, firmly grasped his quad-cane, and began the long, long walk across the "Over-60's" gathering room to meet his first new acquaintance since his beloved Miriam had died three years ago.
