Oh, sweetie… you’re looking at this all wrong! Making a fool of yourself is pretty much the only ice-breaker that has ever worked with me.
I mean, once you’ve made me aware of your existence, and I’ve indicated that I find said existence pleasing in some way, then making a pathetic, fangirly overture is your best next step. Idiot the Elder spent years telling me how wonderful I am and musing to me about the scary men in the world who made her think of me, before finally just throwing herself at me like a needy little mess. Idiot the Younger did little public happy dances every time I deigned to acknowledge her, and privately blathered on about how brilliant I am just to keep me talking, because talking to me was the best thing in the world. It’s hard to overstate how ridiculous they allowed themselves to look… seriously, the fawning adulation would have been terribly sad, except (a) they’re cunts, and (b) when cunts do sad things for my entertainment they stop seeming so sad. (Handy, how that works.)
Which means my advice is this: just give in and humiliate yourself. Over and over, making a display of your desperation, until you’ve embarrassed yourself so thoroughly that I can’t help stopping to watch the spectacle.
Easy-peasy.