This is a brief profile of me. I was a really shy little kid, and deep down inside, I'm still a really shy little kid. Over the years I've learned to disguise that about myself, and people who know me now are routinely astonished to hear me describe myself in those terms, but there you have it. Underneath the exuberance and bluster is a really shy little kid. For every inner voice that says "hey, go be friendly," or "smile at that person," another quieter voice is whispering in my other ear things like, "oh, dear, what if that person doesn't remember you?" or, "look the other way and pretend you didn't see them." Ninety-nine percent of the time I vanquish the shy voice and bounce through my life as if my middle name was Cool and my shampoo was called "Social Poise and Confidence." But there's always that pesky little One Percent left over. I hate that One Percent. That One Percent makes me blush (oh, ruddy cheeks, ye bane of my existence!) and walk away quickly with my head down when faced with circumstances that I know not how to handle.
Remember that date I went on about a week ago? Well, things are still going well. Really well, in fact. We'll call the fella in question Leo. Last night Leo called me and said, "Hey, I've got my spanish class at a coffee shop really near your house, so how about I call you when it's over at 9:30 and we can hang out?" I'm pretty infatuated with this guy right now, so while in my mouth I believe I said, 'Oh, sure, that sounds cool," in my head I giggled stupidly and burbled something like "Ohmigod, your hair is so sexy." Later that night, I was out on a walk while I talked to my mom on the phone. I hung up, and noticed that I was right nearby the coffeeshop where Leo and my friend Schwupna were having their Spanish class, and it was 9:30.
"Hey," said my good and brave voice. "You're right near by, they're wrapping up the lesson about now, and you haven't seen Schwupna in a week or so, so why don't you just walk over and surprise them?"
My One Percent immediately interjected. "Oh, no, no, no, Cheastypants. You just started seeing this guy. Showing up at his Spanish lesson will send a very stalker-ish vibe, and you really want to avoid that."
"Oh, pshaw," scoffed Brave Voice. "It won't look stalker at all, and besides, you really just want to say hi to Schwupna. This is a totally valid and brave idea."
Accustomed to ignoring One Percent and listening to Brave Voice, I walked over to the coffee shop. I sauntered through the door, and there in the front were Leo and Schwupna, sitting with their Spanish teacher. I walked over and sat down.
"Hola, amigos!' I chirped merrily. Schwupna looked up and gave me an appropriately exuberant greeting. "Cheastika von Schwitzie!" she crowed, "Give me a hug, my love!" Yay, hugs! But then I looked at Leo and the Spanish teacher, and they were both looking at me like I was wearing a t-shirt that said I Heart Abortions. Crickets, crickets.
"Um, hi there!" I ventured. Leo belatedly remembered his manners and introduced me to the Spanish teacher, who shook my hand somewhat curtly and then immediately returned to the lesson.
"Y cómo se dice "necktie" en español?" Leo and Schwupna bent their heads back over their Spanish text book.
I started to get that weird stomach feeling that comes whenever I act against the dictates of the ever-prudent One Percent and start to regret it. Shitballs. I knew it, Brave Voice. I do look like a stalker! Oh, crap. Now I'm going to start blushing. Great.
Luckily for me, my phone started ringing, giving me just the excuse I needed to run like the wind. It was Cookie, a true and wonderful friend who promptly assured me that I wasn't totally weird for stopping by. I love her for promoting my somewhat tenuous grasp on reality. I hereby vow to listen just a leeeeeetle more carefully to you, One Percent. You have my sincere apologies.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
8 comments:
Hello my snickerdoodle, Cheastika von (uber) Schwitzie!! It was not that awkward and NOT stalkerish!! Also, your Spanish was praised by our profesora, and you did just come by to see me and the glorious coffeeshop we were in.
I know the truth, that's all that matters. ;)
Life is awkward. Coffee shops are open domain, especially when they're right by your house. Stalking is astronaut woman and Depends underwear chasing her lover across the USA. So more importantly, how was it later when you met up apres Spanish class?
oh.my.god. you are effing hilarious. i had embarrassed feelings for you while i was reading today, and did in fact almost think i could hear the crickets. ermmmmmm........as long as leoleobobeo doesn't think you're weird for showing up, because like didn't he ASK you to be there? hmmmmm...boys.
haha - nevermind. he said he would call afterwards...i missed that detail...hmmmm...yeah, i would have thought you were a wacko.
i love you k-dawg.
There's nothing wrong with it, but I wouldn't make a habit of it.
I found you throught List of the Day.
wow, thanks for all the comments! in the end, things turned out fine. Leo felt as bad about how awkward he acted as I did about showing up unannounced, and we ended up laughing about the whole thing. but lesson learned. no more spontaneous surprises for a while!
it's the inevitable danger of having an overactive brain isn't it? combine that with the 1% and it's bound to set you up for all sorts of adventures that you must seriously analyze before, during & after any incident :-) wouldn't it be great to be the kind of person not to even think before or after that there was any problem whatsoever in greeting a friend and the guy you've got some romantic feelings for just because you happen to be walking by? Glad Leo realized it was not a big deal after all...makes him worthy of some more dates at least, eh? :-) Good luck combating the 1%.
I am convinced that being an adult is a prolonged experience of gawky, awkward, teen years minus the living with the parents and excessive acne. At least we are all awkward together!!!! Love you Cheastika!
Post a Comment