To gain the confidence and unencumbered demeanor of the charming individual, ignore the filter your mind has for stupid shit. The subconscious effects on your personality will be stunning. You will be an unshakeable force, a sainthood to all around you.
I was on the subway with a mixed posse of friends a few months ago. We are standing and chatting like a gaggle of schoolgirls, as the passengers watch in amusement (or bemusement) either the passing landscape or our shenanigans. The compartment is nearly packed. My brain, in its sophomoric state, whispers an idea into my mind's ear. What if I ran up and down the train waving my arms and screaming "WHEEEE"? I know the idea only materialized because it made my gut feel queasy. So I have to do it. I turn to my friend and tell her "I'm going to do something crazy, but then you owe me one crazy." The onlookers respond with puzzlement, then break out the grins like kernels popping. Encouraged, I do it twice more. Miraculously, the world did not explode.
Over the summer, while visiting my family in San Diego, we went to a free outdoor classical concert. The scene is hundreds of mostly elder citizens in proto-formal dress and millinery. I want to dance. I am clueless, but I grab my cousin, a classically trained ballet dancer, and we jig to the concerto with the crowd on our flanks. Fun. A little later, after we sit, a jovial three-year-old girl starts shaking her butt to the music and a few giggles ensue. Almost unconsciously, my legs take me to her side and I mimic her hilarious buffoonery. Ass sway left, ass sway right, turn 360, repeat. As we leave shortly after, I can feel the audience stare; I soak it into my soul. More amusingly, my cousin tells me "you're so much fun..." with DDB eyes. Shit.
An old group of high school friends and I are gathered at Buffalo Wild Wings. We jest and jerk around, but a group of about fifteen high school students catches my attention--the three girls in attendance give butterflies to the stomach. Two blondes, one brunette. Once again, my brain indulges in its characteristic folly, and I can feel my heart pounding as the idea hatches in my head and breaks out of its shell, covered in extroverted yolky goo. I have no purpose but self-amusement. I tell my friends, who are unaccustomed to my recent transition into a retarded deity, I will meet them for their smoke break in a moment.
Like Optimus Prime assembling, my heart rate calms instantly and my posture expands, as I get up slowly and walk to the group. I silently wait until they acknowledge my presence. "Hey, guys." That comma is there for a reason. Think of this as two sentences. It is important to speak slowly, deeply, confidently, and give ample seconds pause between statements in situations like this. I make strong eye contact with the more beautiful blonde, the leader of the group, and continue. "I just lot a bet." Their curiosity is peaked. "And in order to fulfill that bet, I have to do a dare." Typical adolescent "oooooh"s as they prepare for me to presumably embarrass myself. I decided to make the brunette's day, she must not get as much attention in this social circle. Our eyes connect, and I say "I have to tell you... what I first said... when I walked in and saw you." They go wild with more stupid noises. (She's blushing.) "I said..."
They are all leaning in at this point. "Oh my god, she is beautiful" with a nearly flat inflection. And they erupt. After a few seconds of settling, one inane kid says "dude, that's my sister." I say "cool." He then asks "are you going to talk about my sister like that?" What an idiot. My esprit de l'escalier tells me I should have said "you don't think your sister is beautiful?" My mouth uttered something unremarkable but confident, "it's a bet, and what's done is done." The head diva shouts to her friend, "give him a hug!" They chime in, "yeah, give him a hug!" She got up and got a hug.
I leave you with a video of me turning the cafeteria crowd into an instrument, a la Bobby McFerrin.
You have to gain an omnipresent, omnipotent, unhumanly uncharacteristic inner strength. To know the world's opinion about you is of zero consequence. You can do that by fucking around. Be in this mode, always, and all the time.
