The Fonz had it easy
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The other night I went to a party for a friend's birthday. It was a simple do in the function room of a working men's club, complete with dance floor, mobile disco and friends and family of the birthday girl. Among the guests were several notable beauties. And with that our scene was set.
Were I the Fonz, approaching said aforementioned beauties would have been simple. It would have been smooth. As the Fonz, I would have glided gracefully across the room and greeted them with an intoxicating level of cool that would instantly make them swoon. With little more than a Joey Tribbiani-esque opening line, they would have been charmed.
But I'm not the Fonz (or Joey Tribbiani). My actions were somewhat different. Lacking the courage or strength of will to make an approach, I instead found a seat among friends and passed the evening discussing whatever topics managed to hold our interest from one minute to the next. All in all, it was a quite pleasant evening, but I can't help but feel that by not being the Fonz, I somehow missed out.
I don't know what the Fonz did, but I can't do it. In fact, I'm rubbish at it. With just a click of his fingers, girls would throw themselves at him. With just a click of my fingers, a couple of people might turn around to see where the noise came from, then casually return to whatever they were doing prior to hearing it.
So, what did he have that I didn't? He had a leather jacket, but I'm not sure that’s it: I have a couple of those; one biker-style and one full length. He also had a motorcycle. Admittedly I'm not likely to get one of those, but even if I did, I can't see that it would help indoors, and Fonzie's gift seemed more than just situational. It might have been the hair—his being darker and slicker—but there's only so much I can do with mine and, cool as it was in the day, the Fonz's hairstyle isn’t exactly à la mode now. Oh, and he once jumped over a shark. I probably won't try that.
What he did have is confidence, and that's something I've as yet been unable to muster in those situations. Rather than being able to confidently approach the fairer sex and strike up a conversation, I'm more often rendered mute; paralysed on the spot and unable to utter much more than a nervous "hi" or perhaps a few poorly delivered one-word answers (should I find myself within conversational range and too paralysed to recover to a safe distance).
It was a good party at least. I had a good time, as did my friends (and in particular the birthday girl, which was the main thing). But maybe the Fonz would have enjoyed it more than me.
Bootnote: This author particularly likes that on Wikipedia's page for Fonzie, a note underneath the heading reads "Not to be confused with Fozzie". Ironically, I probably have more in common with the latter!