Myesh, myesh, I see your problem young lad. The object of your affection is such a brutally attractive beast that she casts a flock of butterflies into your belly who intertwine in all sorts of aeronomic patterns until they fill up into your oesophagus and have you coughing out miniature wings into her face at which you tell her the wings are beating like your heart is for her. Either that or they get stuck in your larynx and limit your communication abilities.
Why else should we fear talking to other normal (I'm assuming she is normal) members of society? If all else fails, I recommend that you get a gun and stage a bank robbery, but remember to cross-dress before you do so, that way you will get thrown into a women's prison and most probably acquire the experience you seek in these matters, myesh?