The Stupidest Thing
I was thinking, recently, about the dumbest thing I've ever done while in pursuit of a man. Not necessarily the dumbest thing I've done to get him. That list would be too long. As would the list of the dumb things I've done to get rid of a man. Like leaving the country.
No, more like the things we've done that made us look really stupid in front of someone we liked. Falling down in front of them. Driving in reverse rather than first gear after saying goodbye. Stalling out the car when picking them up for dinner. Those sorts of things. Those painful, humiliating moments that haunt us for years. The moment we can point to and say, "There. That was the moment I looked like a moron."
A few years ago, I met this guy. Looks-wise, he was absolutely everything I've ever wanted. Tall. Dark hair. Big brown eyes. Good smile. And could carry on a conversation. Was gainfully employed. Dressed well.
He made the hair on the back of my neck stand up when I met him. I rarely, if ever, go on point for a guy. It usually takes months of conversation, background checks and deep cover investigation for me to even consider whether I'd pursue something with men that I meet. However, this one? This one gave me goosebumps.
We met in an office where he was getting ready to be interviewed. He and a couple of other guys were sitting around, watching Univision. Not because they were Hispanic, but because the daytime soaps were on and they all liked watching the hot women with bad lipliner chew scenery.
I'm waiting for someone, too, so we start talking about stuff. I don't even know what. It was like in the movies, where I'm just watching his lips move and not paying a whit of attention to any actual words coming out of his mouth. He did mention liking white zinfindel, which caused me significant pause. However, I figured that I could prohibit trailer park champagne from our relationship once I got my hooks into him.
I got called out of the room. I kept talking as I walked out, being my normally witty and charming self as I walked toward the door. Entertaining the room, as I do. Which prevented me from looking where I was going. Which I should have been doing. Because, in trying to leave, instead of walking out the doorway? I turned and ran right into the wall.
Never got the date.
No, more like the things we've done that made us look really stupid in front of someone we liked. Falling down in front of them. Driving in reverse rather than first gear after saying goodbye. Stalling out the car when picking them up for dinner. Those sorts of things. Those painful, humiliating moments that haunt us for years. The moment we can point to and say, "There. That was the moment I looked like a moron."
A few years ago, I met this guy. Looks-wise, he was absolutely everything I've ever wanted. Tall. Dark hair. Big brown eyes. Good smile. And could carry on a conversation. Was gainfully employed. Dressed well.
He made the hair on the back of my neck stand up when I met him. I rarely, if ever, go on point for a guy. It usually takes months of conversation, background checks and deep cover investigation for me to even consider whether I'd pursue something with men that I meet. However, this one? This one gave me goosebumps.
We met in an office where he was getting ready to be interviewed. He and a couple of other guys were sitting around, watching Univision. Not because they were Hispanic, but because the daytime soaps were on and they all liked watching the hot women with bad lipliner chew scenery.
I'm waiting for someone, too, so we start talking about stuff. I don't even know what. It was like in the movies, where I'm just watching his lips move and not paying a whit of attention to any actual words coming out of his mouth. He did mention liking white zinfindel, which caused me significant pause. However, I figured that I could prohibit trailer park champagne from our relationship once I got my hooks into him.
I got called out of the room. I kept talking as I walked out, being my normally witty and charming self as I walked toward the door. Entertaining the room, as I do. Which prevented me from looking where I was going. Which I should have been doing. Because, in trying to leave, instead of walking out the doorway? I turned and ran right into the wall.
Never got the date.
posted by Miss Head at
7:54 AM
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