The Waltz

It's been so long since I properly fancied someone I'm not entirely sure what to do. I can fall in and out of love at the drop if a hat, fantasise about that man who just walked past me but to have a crush, a weak at the knees, hot flush, cannot speak crush... well that's a completely different matter.

I do have the odd mini crush here and there, with people I know I shouldn't and men I know I'd never really want to bring me Sunday morning papers and coffee. Even the last few fleeting relationships I've had have been with men I was fond of, whose company I somewhat enjoyed, rather than than a truly overwhelming want to be with them. I always felt as if I called the shots, the curtain would come down and it would be The End when I got bored enough to call it.

And there have been a few others who got me all tongue tied, whose very presence dissolved any ability from me to make conversation, let alone hold their gaze. Men who as soon as I saw them made me weak at the knees, and turned me overwhelmingly shy so that instead of appearing cool and calm, I came off as rude.

This is then where the major problem arises. Now that The Swiss has made me realise that it is okay to ask a man out, I all of a sudden have a new found power. It is possible after all to go up to that smart, sexy, attractive man whom I fancy like mad, smile and deliver... *Shall we go for a drink?* or some other slick and sassy invite.

As an old fashioned kinda gal who hasn't had to ask a man out in years, the prospect simply terrifies me; as that smart, sexy, attractive man has already rendered me a paralyzed mute, how ever am I ever going to be able to waltz over and get those simple six little words out?!