I met Mary when I was 22. I had come to a nice little bar in town with the intention of having sex. The great thing about telepathy is that I never get rejected. I immediately know which girls think I'm cute. Also helpful, I know which girls have boyfriends that will try to beat me up if I go near them. I prefer not to have to control people so I don't go after girls who are already taken.
Anyhow, I saw Mary was sitting by herself at a bar. She looked like she was waiting for someone. There are many traits that can be used to identify people who are probably waiting for someone. The tapping of a foot, checking of a watch, staring at a door, that sort of thing. In Mary's case, it was the fact that she was way too hot to be by herself. Still, I thought a quick mind probe would be worth a shot. That probe told me that A) Mary was the saddest woman in the entire bar and B) The reason she was sad was that she wanted a cute guy to buy her a drink and it wasn't happening.
I can't say I blame the other guys for avoiding her; her looks were very intimidating. The overall belief that she was taken (or at the very least, not looking) was reinforced by the fact that one guy had already tried to pick her up and failed. Her mental name for this guy was, "The Biggest Asshole in the God-Damned World." Thinking such a long name takes a bit of extra mental effort; obviously she must have hated him. Personally, I'd have just thought of him as T-BAG.
Unlike T-BAG, I had a chance. I walked straight across the room to her and offered to buy her a drink. I even cheated and checked which drink I should offer. Ladies love it when you know what drink they want (don't try this if you don't have mind control. You'll probably guess wrong). Her reaction was a slightly audible sigh of happiness. Her mental reaction was an explosion of emotion the likes of which I usually only see when I torture (the fun kind of torture) a girl to climax. I didn't examine her mind to find out why my gesture was so well-received. I was too excited about the fact that she wanted to kiss me.
To digress a moment, I should point out that I usually ignore such thoughts. The fact that a woman wants me to kiss her does not mean she won't think I am a horrible person if I actually do so. Still, the emotions behind her kiss were extraordinarily strong, stronger than I would have expected to see. She didn't even know me! I obliged and kissed her. Her thoughts went into a frenzy. Hell, mine probably did, too. She was a great kisser. She actually managed to transmit her thought tornado through her kiss.
I was almost worried the strong thoughts meant the kiss was not well received. On the contrary, she just did not understand why I would possibly want to kiss her. She was barely able to imagine that anyone would want to buy her a drink and I had gone and kissed her. Apparently, T-BAG had told her she was an ugly, stupid slut. As had his friends. And their friends. Basically, every boy she had ever dated had told her she was an ugly, stupid slut. Apparently, only jerks had the guts to ask her out. But they asked her out a lot. She knew she wasn't stupid. She also knew she wasn't a slut (She'd never even had sex, woohoo!). That's why guys had been so cruel. Why she believed them about being ugly is beyond me. I guess she just hadn't been told she was beautiful. That was about to change, particularly since she'd just thought, "the only thing that would make this moment any more perfect would be for him to tell me how beautiful I am." Of course I did:
"Angel, you are the most beautiful woman in the world."
"You are a rose among weeds, a sun that shines even at night."
"Flower, you are the more beautiful than Aphrodite."
"Cupid will never shoot you; anyone who has seen you is already in love."
"Princess, your picture is painted on Peter's gate and all who pass it weep for not having seen you in real life."
"You are an angel, a goddess, and everything else."
"Though I am not worthy to even hear your voice, please tell me your name."
OK, I admit it. I'm not a poet. That is the worst ode to beauty ever seen by man. Perhaps a better description of her beauty would be say that she was a beautiful as my poetry was awful. Even the bartender was (mentally) laughing at me and I'm sure he hears this stuff constantly. Cut me some slack, I made it up on the spur of the moment. Anyhow, she didn't notice at all how awful it was. Instead, Mary's mind went into another one of those thought whirlwinds that I was coming to love. The thought that remained when the whirlwind ended shocked me. "Mind Control!"
I was so flustered that this beauty had caught on, I almost ran away. But she hadn't caught on at all. On the contrary, her next thought was, "I am controlling him!" The fact that she considered mind control a more logical explanation than the possibility that I was acting without any influence from her thoughts suggests either incredible intelligence and observational skills or a complete and utter lack of self-esteem. I think it was a mixture of both. My urge to laugh at her misunderstanding was totally overwhelmed by joy and excitement I felt at her mistake. Now this was going to be fun! Coincidentally, she had exactly the same thought.
.... There is more of this story ...