F-ing It Up at YogurtLand...

is a bad time to woo a woman. I'm one of those guys that sample cups are not an option at self-serve yogurt joints: they are a requirement. I yank on those silver handles like the conductor of a locomotive yanks on the whistle. Sure, I'm abusing the system a tad. By the time I'm finished, my three sample cups are dripping with my own spit and tracks of Honeydew Tart and White Chocolate Mousse.

Frozen yogurt is a fairly gluttonous vice...at least the way I eat it. And just my luck, the charming young lady who works next-door to my school walked into the shop right when I was pulling the lever for non-fat coconut.

The woman and I have made eye contact every now and then, and she apparently thought this was the perfect time to make a formal introduction. She recognized me, which at any other time would greatly increase my wooing powers.

But I got over-excited by the woman—and a little by the yogurt—and I misjudged my sample cup placement. There's little room for error! An entire glob landed in the palm of my hand and began trickling between my fingers.

I became frantic. I scampered across shop to the cashier for napkins. There's still time. Maybe she hasn't seen the mess. I grabbed a napkin from the male cashier as fast as I could, drying the white, tropical flavor from my hand. But it was too late. I smiled at her like an adolescent boy who forgot to lock the bedroom door. And through her look of confusion and disgust, she returned an awkward grin.

Once I had finished my clean-up, I thought of going over to her and shaking hands over a name exchange. But the residual stickiness from the yogurt hindered my confidence. Unusual textures can ruin a salutation, like shaking hands with someone right after they come out of the bathroom. Nasty if their hands are wet; nasty if their hands are dry.

I sheepishly hid in the corner of the shop, pretending to have such a deep focus on my flavor selection that she would leave me alone. Luckily and unluckily, it worked. She paid and left without saying a word.

On the way out, trying to save some face, I jokingly asked the cashier if the yogurt explosion in the hand happens a lot.

"Dude, not really."