When a Dare at the Bar Reveals Something More

“Hey! I wanted to give you my number,” I said, passing him a piece of paper with my handwriting scrawled across it. “I’m Allie,” I added, then turned to dash away.

My friends watched from the door of the bar. We were just leaving, and it was a dare of sorts. I think they thought I wouldn’t do it. Or maybe they thought, of all of us standing there, that I was the only one who might.

I had faltered for a brief moment when they suggested it. All of the possible consequences of giving him my number, in front of all his friends and mine, had bounced quickly across my brain. He could reject me. Humiliate me. Publicly.

I was afraid of giving him my number, to be sure.

But I think I was equally—or perhaps more—afraid of not giving him my number.

Hear me out.

In more recent years, I have tended to be more afraid of regret than embarrassment. This is a big swing from high school, during which I was absolutely controlled by a deep fear of humiliation. Back then, I was the definition of risk averse.

What changed? I’m not totally sure. A trendy culture of #YOLO? A few years of therapy? A slightly thicker skin? An increasing personal value in bravery?

And I liked this change in myself. I wanted to grow this change in myself. And even: I wanted to show this change in myself to my friends, to the people around me, to that stranger across the bar.

So, in that moment, I was more afraid of the potential for a “What if I had?” future thought than any current one. I was more afraid of declining a dare, of appearing cowardly, than of completing it with any assumed risk.

There’s a middle ground, no doubt. A healthy spot in the center of the spectrum. Perhaps I should have stopped to consider whether I actually wanted this man to have my number. Perhaps I would now, if this situation presented itself again.

Owen, you brought me some awareness around the motives for my behavior, in that fleeting moment of our introduction. I’m grateful for it.

Motives can be cloudy and complicated because people are cloudy and complicated.