asking girls out

The truth was, even the wimpiest boys were more adept than Trip at asking girls out, because their sparrows’ chests and knock-knees had taught them perseverance, whereas Trip had never even had to dial a girl’s phone number. It was all new to him: the memorization of strategic speeches, the trial runs of possible conversations, the yogic deep breathing, all leading up to the blind, headlong dive into the staticky sea of telephone lines. He hadn’t suffered the eternity of the ring about to be picked up, didn’t know the heart rush of hearing that incomparable voice suddenly linked with his own the sense it gave of being too close to even see her, of actually being inside her ear. He had never felt the pain of lackluster responses, the dread of “Oh…hi,” or the quick annihilation of “Who?” His beauty had left him without cunning.

The Virgin Suicides
Jeffrey Eugenides