Why oh, why are there those of us who embarrass so easily?
Actually, let me articulate that a little better. I don't feel embarrassed all that easily, my face, however, likes to deceive those around me. Or is it I who is the one doing the deceiving?
The slightest hint of flattery, the passing of a handsome man, the smallest bit of talk of something one probably shouldn't hear, and there go my cheeks. Blushed and flushed.
Don't EVEN get me started on the handsome man thing. Okay well it's too late.
May I just express my frustration with my inability to speak to any handsome man? Particularly with the ones I actually see myself having no future with.
Exhibit A: Binny's Boy. Or rather, Binny's Man. After all, someone with a beard like his could never be called a boy. It's a big beard. It's red. He probably brews his own beer. He lingers by the salads for awhile, then picks out the ripest banana. Then always goes through a lucky lady's register line at Trader Joes. Who is not ever the lucky lady? Well, me. Until Monday, that is. He bought a single granny smith apple and was the first to walk up to my line. How do I make conversation with a handsome man who likes to brew beer, and drink beer, and grow beards, and look handsome? I turn flush red and gaze lovingly at only the green apple lying there on the counter while my silly red face tries desperately to fight off a gushy smile and looses. Then I say, "So whattaya drinkin'?" not to him, but to his Starbucks cup. The cup answers, "You sound like a dummy", and he answers so kindly with an explanation that he loves pour-over brew. You know, if you go in at the right time of day they'll make one for you? Yes, actually, I do know because I love coffee and worked at Starbucks for years. Too bad I couldn't stop pretending I was in love with his granny smith apple and make conversation about the abundance of things we have in common: Starbucks, beer, and I'm just sure there's a whole list there. Promise.
All the while he works two doors down from me in the same building. Shouldn't I just go buy some beer for goodness sakes? No, because I already know how that conversion will go. I will stare at the Binny's emblem on his shirt with a red face and a dumb smile, then I will ask, "So whattaya doin'?"
Exhibit B: Well, should I? Probably not, because exhibit B and C and D and F and K and Z and all forever of them are, with my luck, someone who will either read this or know someone reading this.
Stuttering, smiling at my feet, saying stupid things about how I'm sweating too much, repeating the same question over and over and over again in the same conversion. That's the gist. I'll spare you the rest of the details.
Sometimes I'm a little witty. Sometimes my face is not flushed red. Most of the time I don't even feel awkward, because I am human and you are human and sometimes we just do dumb human things like punch ourselves in the face while we're tying to open up a box that's taped shut. Multiple times. In public. Either way, we all do dumb things.
So next time you see me if you could just trip up the stairs and let out a good fart as your catching yourself that would very much please me and my need to not feel like the only one who makes a fool of herself on a daily basis. I just need a good laugh at someone other than myself. Believe you me, I get a damn good laugh out of my own misfortunes. But can I spread the love? Let's spread the love.
