Brian and the Chocolate Fountain

I'm normally fairly in my element at wedding receptions. I usually know a fair amount of the people and make friends easily. I dance with as many of the single ladies as possible. And I can be charming for a night. Any longer than that, and I'm in trouble, but for a night? No problem.

And you know how there's always that one guy at the reception who dances like a crazy man and clearly has no fear of embarrassment? I am often that guy (assuming no one else has beaten me to the role). At a wedding last summer, I was the one (OK, one of the two) doing crazy dances to a "Footloose" song and breaking out the dancing staples such as The Running Man, The Sprinkler, The Shopper, Starting the Lawn Mower, Slow Thriller and all the rest. And when the DJ declared an air guitar contest, I was the one who immediately hit my knees and slid out to the middle of the dance floor to make a spectacle of myself.

So it was a little weird to find myself as a bit of a wallflower at the wedding reception I attended this weekend. The guest list leaned heavily toward family, and the number of people about my age was probably only a dozen or so, only a few of whom I knew. And only a few of the women appeared to be single. And they all left rather early before I'd worked up the courage to ask them dance.

But I had also been distracted by the woman in charge of the chocolate fountain.

Yes, they had a chocolate fountain, where chocolate cascaded down for dipping all manner of delectable items. And next to it was a girl who seemed to be about my age -- cute; seemed friendly; knew the lyrics to most of the songs the DJ played and sang along; got teary-eyed during the father-bride dance and one of the toasts; had dark blond hair and brown eyes, a combination I've always found attractive; and had a killer smile, and I'm a sucker for a good smile.

I like chocolate. I like nice, cute girls. The whole setup seemed like a gift from God.

I bided my time, waiting for the initial crowds to pass to make my first impression. And I discussed with my two friends how I should play it. I wanted something boyishly charming -- something endearing, but not too suave. These were some of the ideas that were discarded:
1) Refined: Taste the chocolate and then say, "Mmm ... tastes like a Hershey's vintage. Maybe 2003? That was a good year for chocolate."
2) Classic: "You know, if I had made the alphabet, I would have put U and I together."
3) Contemporary: "If you were an item on a McDonald's menu, you'd be called McBeautiful."
4) Sympathetic: "So are you stuck sitting here all night just to make sure that there aren't any freak chocolate accidents or something?"

There were others, but they were even less memorable. I finally decided on an approach that would somehow involve being charmingly clueless about how the chocolate fountain worked. I had never actually seen one until that night, so it seemed easy to pull off. And I know women like a man who needs a little help every once and awhile. Then I could segue into more of a get-to-know-you conversation.

When I approached, she turned and smiled -- a good sign. I smiled back.

And then I sort of panicked.

I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was definitely not smooth. It may very well have been a series of grunts and pointing back and forth between the chocolate fountain and the strawberry I was holding. At any rate, she just said, "You're doing just fine," gave me a smile that said "Your idiocy would be cute if you were, oh, 5 years old" and turned her attention back to the dance floor.

I may have mumbled something and then made my way back to my table.

It's times like that that make me think of myself when I hear the John Mayer song "My Stupid Mouth."

I went back up there a couple of times during the night, but the vibe was clearly not there. So I merely pined from afar, as I'm wont to do anyhow.

I knew I should have gone with the McBeautiful line ...