I'm Not Gonna Lie by George Lopez Read Free Book Online Page B

put it kindly, this woman was very unattractive. Of course, she had other qualities. She was also fat.
    Perfect.
    I was sick of getting shot down. I was done with good-looking women checking me out, sticking their noses up, and turning away. I had set the bar too high. In order to get into the game, I needed to lower my standards. If you swing for the fences on every pitch, you’ll only strike out. You have to start by hitting singles. Just get on base. Then you can slide into home.
    I polished off my beer, stood up, and strolled coolly over to her table.
    â€œHello,” I said.
    I gave her my best, widest smile.
    She swiveled her head in my direction. Close up, she actually looked scarier than she did from across the dark bar. Her lips parted to reveal fangs. I jumped back.
    â€œHi, there. So, yes, I was wondering,” I said. My voice cracked and then squeaked. “Can I buy you a drink?”
    She plopped a meaty arm over the back of the chair next to her. She ran her eyes up and down me slowly, as if she were scanning me at airport security. She parted her lips again and her fangs appeared in full and rested on her lip. I think I saw smoke coming out of her nose.
    â€œNo, thanks,” she said.
    I blinked. I coughed. I swallowed.
    â€œExcuse me?” I said. “I didn’t hear what you said. Loud in here.”
    â€œI’m good,” she said. “I’m waiting for my friends.”
    She grunted and swiveled her scaly head away.
    â€œOh, okay, fine, great, I’ll just, you know . . . I’m a little surprised, but, yes, cool, not a problem, very nice meeting you; enjoy molting—”
    I slunk back toward my table, looking for a way to disappear, hoping that a hole would suddenly open in the floor so I could dive in and flee. As I groped for my table like a blind man, I thought, “Unbelievable.
She
turned me down? Mothra said no? How can that be? I know how: I’m a loser. No. That’s not true. I’m the biggest loser in this bar. It’s official. I’m the worst dude in the room.”
    When I look back at that night and think about the lull in my dating life, that short twenty- to thirty-year period, I see another guy. I was a different person. I lacked confidence. I somehow felt
less
than everybody else. And I was so shy that I scared women off. My grandmother always used to tell me, “Shies don’t get shit.” She was right, but at that time knowing I was shy made me feel even shier. That’s the main reason I couldn’t get a date. Women wanted no part of me. I turned them off. I’m talking about
all
women, even those who were so desperate that they would date anyone who walked upright and didn’t drool. Except me.
    Everything changed when I turned fifty. I experienced an attitude shift—very simple and basic. Since I had arrived at an age that was closer to death than not, I decided first to chill, to slow down, to take it easy, and not to get agitated over little, insignificant things. Second, I decided to live my life my way, to follow my instincts and not be so eager to do what other people said.
    I applied all of this to my relationships with women. I refused to become one of those sad fifty-year-old dudes you see sitting alone at the end of the bar. You know who I mean. There’s always one pathetic old dude nursing a drink, playing with his cocktail napkin, looking lost. For one thing, you should never go to a bar alone at fifty. You need to travel with a pack of dudes, no matter what your age. And it’s important to monitor how you look. Dudes in their fifties walk a tightrope, style-wise. You put on the wrong clothes and you fall right off. You’ve seen these guys. They’re trying to look young, or hip, or at least relevant. They sit at the bar wearing mom jeans and a sport jacket with patches and maybe a scarf. Besides the sad doe-eyed look that creeps across their Botoxed faces, their