Have you ever felt that sense of awkwardness in a conversation when you realize that you're talking or gesturing like a bumbling idiot and both you and the other person know it but there's very little you can do to stop it?
Unfortunately, this happens to me frequently...usually around male humans.
The earliest example of this was when I was in grade 4 or 5 and had a crush on my brother's best friend. To be fair, what girl doesn't have a crush on her brother's friend as a kid? Not only was he my brother's best friend, but our dads worked together and we saw each other all... the... time! And he had a fabulous smile. And a great voice.
Naturally, I was terrified of him.
For some unknown and regrettable reason, I ended up spilling the beans to my brother that I liked his friend. As any brother I know would do, he threatened to tell. I was mortified. Not only could I not talk to this person even though we saw each other regularly, but if my brother told him, I would never be able to look him in the face again. They were having a sleepover one night when my brother came into my room and said he was going to tell his friend.
I protested, he teased that he would. I cried, he persisted. I yelled, "Okay, but only in my room!"
What?! Who does that? Yes, you can tell the boy I have a crush on that I like him but only in front of me while I'm surrounded by teddy bears and wearing care bear pyjamas. That's reasonable.
Turns out my brother told me later that he wasn't really going to tell, but since I gave him permission, he did. He dragged the poor boy into my room, told him I had a crush on him, and I had to watch in horror as he turned bright red and buried his face in my blanket and I knew I could never look at him again.
I did.
Somehow he ended up coming to visit when we moved half-way across the country. I was now a teenager and still feeling humiliated, even though at least 5 years had passed. I felt so humiliated, in fact, that I became incredibly anxious and tried to bottle it up. Instead, it came out in anger. I was SO angry that I glared at him every time he looked at me, and when my dog accidentally walked in front of me, I kicked her! It was one of my worst regrets. Then I ran to my room and didn't come out until he went home. I was a mess!
Fast forward to college and who should be attending the same school but the same guy. I was determined to not make a fool of myself or be angry. But someone told the admissions office that I had known him when I was a child so "wouldn't it be nice if they sat at the same table for the freshman banquet?" No... it was not nice. My anxiety was already through the roof, and then I had this guy that I used to like and to whom I had clearly shown myself to be a nut job, sitting beside me, and I had no idea how to use a fork and knife! (Seriously, in an attempt to assuage my anxiety prior to attending college, I asked my youth mentors to take me for supper and show me how to use a fork and knife because I HATED using a knife and would rather just cut things with my fork and my parents had given up trying to teach me. But I also knew that wasn't proper etiquette so I asked for help. Turns out it wasn't that helpful.) Mr. Much-handsomer-than-in-childhood was sitting beside me as I try to delicately use my fork and knife, and I accidentally managed to twist the knife in such a way that I shot the piece of my steak across the table, spewing gravy and plate contents everywhere while I sat there, frozen in place in my fancy dress, and wished the world would swallow me whole.
Let's get one thing straight: my life does not follow a pleasant straight line. It likes to take detours and moguls and sometimes throws me in a lake. As a back story to this following unfortunate incident, a few years prior to college I had been attempting to wear contacts. Turns out, I'm allergic to contact solution. Back then that was my only allergy but what it did was turn the backs of my eyelids into "cobblestones," according to my optometrist. My one eyelid was damaged so badly that for years I had a hard time smiling without it closing completely. The eyelid is still slightly more droopy than the other eye, not that you can notice.
Throughout that college year I avoided talking to said boy. He was always friendly and polite, and probably confused by me, but all I could do was try to avoid eye contact. However, one day I decided to try and be "normal" again. He was doing dishes and I turned to thank the dishwashing staff. He smiled and I decided to smile back, my damaged eye closing and effectively causing me to wink at him.
May death come swiftly.
He married someone else, to no one's surprise.
During my later college years, I tried to be more casual and less angry. It was very common for people to announce their upcoming weddings in their grad speeches to the school, which often happened weeks prior to school ending, so I thought it would be funny and ironic to announce my upcoming nuptials and add, "so if anyone is willing and available, I'll be waiting at the alter." It got a good chuckle, but also a guy that I was not necessarily interested in, but was a lovely and hilarious individual, thought it would be funny to jump up and run to the front. Thankfully my brother, who had since begun attending the school as well, grabbed his arm and sat his ass down.
However, I found out about it. Which means every time I saw him I blushed. He took that as a sign to continue and he would give a cutesy little wave, wink, or otherwise attempt uncomfortable flirting. At every occasion I would turn crimson and run, or look away, or attempt to not talk. I knew it was all in fun and I desperately wanted to have fun with it, but my anxiety wouldn't let me. One day he blew me a kiss and I jumped so hard that I knocked my glass of milk into my lap and it poured into the plastic, dining-hall bucket seat and soaked the back of my pants. He offered his jacket to tie around my waist as an apology, but I declined and just sat in the milk. You're not supposed to cry over spilt milk, but I think turning beat red and mumbling something incoherent is likely okay.
He married someone else, to no one's surprise.
Years later I was living in Calgary on my own and was dreadfully lonely. I was looking for a friend and invited out this other guy from my college days to go for coffee and hang out. I didn't know him very well but we had been in a singing group together for a year so I thought maybe I could act someone normal around him. I wasn't looking to have anything romantic come of it, but more was wanting a friend in the city since I knew no one. Apparently our introvertedness combined was too much because he decided to bring a friend. My anxiety went through the roof, more than it already was, and my tongue was completely tied. Once again, I turned into the bumbling idiot who could logically see how everything I was doing was stupid, but there was nothing I could do to stop that train.
First, I brought up a memory of when I was vomiting on the side of the road from food poisoning and he had held my hair. Because who doesn't want to remember that.
Then his friend told me all about his job and not two minutes later I asked what he did for a living.
I also asked his friend's name multiple times.
I talked with my hands. Not in a "normal-gesturing-around-the-room" fashion, but in a "this-person-is-crazy-and-flailing-like-kermit" fashion.
I also brought up a song he mentioned in my yearbook, as though I had been studying it for years. I had not, by the way. It was just the weirdest thing that had been written in my yearbook and was memorable because of its oddity.
And last, but not least, I believe I spilled my coffee on myself.
He married someone else, to no one's surprise.
And let's not forget the man who applied for a job at the cleaning company I used to work with who walked in and told me his name and his voice alone was so luxurious (I have a thing for voices) that I practically disintegrated in my seat and lost all power of speech. Even though I was the receptionist and was supposed to give him directions to his interview, I mumbled a few incoherent words and pointed the wrong way and turned red and ran to the finance department and my coworker had to come save the day. Then, in true awkward fashion, I felt I needed to go into the owner's office post interview and tell them to hire him because he has a nice voice. There is no way that normal people do that. Oh yeah, they hired him, and I could never talk when he was in the room. Some receptionist I was.
I'm sure he married someone else, to no one's surprise.
In chapter 3, when Brianna becomes a bumbling idiot around Beriothien, that is a reflection of my own ineptness in talking to unknown men. Hopefully I have improved. If not, he will marry someone else, to no one's surprise.
