Tag Archives: awkward

Flirting Fail

14 Mar

Last week, I introduced you to the concept of the Two Prong Dating Approach, in which – as you know – I am one of the two prongs involved. Aside from the two adventures C and I are planning, I’m also trying to be more outgoing and flirtatious with gents I actually find attractive. (I’m very good at being flirtatious with gents I do not find attractive, which really never works out in my favor. Or theirs.)

Anyway, one evening I find myself at some bar for happy hour with friends. I lean against the bar to order a drink and – lo and behold – the bartender is gorgeous. Tall, dark hair, light eyes … and an accent! I was obviously immediately in love and, since I’d had three Bud Lights, was tipsy enough to have the confidence to flirt completely shamelessly.

I decide the perfect approach will be to highlight my sporty-girl prowess to this Euro-Hottie. And the subsequent (fairly one-sided) flirtation goes like this:

“So, where are you from?” I could already tell he was Irish, but I wanted to play it cool.

Irishness confirmed, I continue, “Are you a football fan?”

Predictably, he asks me to clarify whether I mean “my” football or “his.” Feeling extra cool at this point, I smile and say I mean his. Sadly, he says he isn’t really a fan.

I play out my disappointment with what I’m sure is a charming grin and say, “That’s too bad! We’re going to watch the football game on Saturday!”

Confused, he asks me to clarify what the hell I’m talking about.

“You know, the game! It’s Ireland and Scotland! You should come and help us cheer for Ireland.” At this point, I’m just thrilled with my superior European sports knowledge and pretty much on top of the world.

Until he looks at me with a look that perfectly combines pity, amusement, and something else that suggests I’m about to be very embarrassed.

“Um,” he says, “That’s a rugby game.”

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That Time I Skyped With Amazonian Tea Farmers

7 Mar

So, C and I decided back in January that we were going to go on two “out of the box” adventures every month. The point is to meet new people – who are hopefully attractive gents who’d like to date us. We’re calling the plan “The Two Prong Dating Approach, In Which We Are The Prongs.”

For February, one of the adventures was originally a (free) tour of the Chelsea Brewery. Always the creative thinker, C had other ideas for us. “Why don’t we go to this Spanish Speakers Meetup in Brooklyn?” she suggested innocently.

I kindly reminded her that I speak approximately 12 words of Spanish, ten of which are numbers.

“Don’t you think that might be a little awkward for me?” I replied, wishing we could stick to beer, which would at least be in a language I could comprehend.

She’s persuasive, though, and sent me details – something about tea farmers and the Amazon and Skype. At the very least, this would be hilarious. At the most, it would actually be fun. I soon acquiesced, having pretty much no idea what I was getting myself into.

The Saturday in question rolled around and we trekked our way out to Brooklyn. Really, it wasn’t so much of a trek as a 15 minute subway ride, but still. Brooklyn feels far away. It felt even more foreign when we showed up at the address listed on the event website …

If this isn't exactly what you imagine when you imagine a Typical Abandoned Brooklyn Warehouse, then you need to amend your imagination.

Seriously, this place appeared to be some kind of abandoned warehouse. “Whatever happens, this was YOUR choice,” I reminded C, laughing but also confused, curious, entertained, and slightly freaked out.

We walked through the front door and through an unheated, eery-as-hell hallway. I’m talking – there were mannequin torsos and detached limbs strewn about, scraps of fabric and old rugs, dilapidated chairs and tables. Going up the creepy elevator, I was fairly certain we were in some kind of horror movie.

But then it all transformed! We walked into a cozy (still warehouse-y, still very Brooklyn) open space that clearly served as several offices/headquarters. But it was heated! And not creepy!

And…everything was in Spanish. I smiled and nodded and laughed along with the crowd until someone started asking me questions and all I could do was stand there. Mute. Because, you know, when you go to a Spanish Speakers Meetup, everyone assumes you speak Spanish.

SHOCKER.

Anyway, C did her best to translate and I was actually quite entertaining to most people as I stood, grinning and mute, in the middle of the room. We got to Skype with legit tea farmers in Ecuador, which was hilarious to me only because I could understand none of what they were saying.

We drank the tea and even got to take a box home for ourselves. I flirted shamelessly with the company’s founder (in English) before I found out he was living with his girlfriend. C chattered coherently to everyone but me in her fluent Spanish.

And so we launched our Two Prong Approach – in which we are the prongs – in an old warehouse in Brooklyn drinking tea virtually hanging out with Amazonian tea farmers.

I’m calling it a success, since I couldn’t understand a word anyone said. I assume they all loved me.

The Giant Pants & An Obscure Cartoon

6 Feb

I used to have these super soft, gray cotton, drawstring pajama pants. I got them when I was in that adolescent stage of thinking I was way more enormous than I really was, so naturally these pants were also enormous. I, however, have never actually been enormous, so the pants just looked ridiculous on me.

Luckily, they were pajamas, so I didn’t wear them in public. Ok, maybe sometimes I did, but it was high school and back in 2002 wearing giant pajama pants in public was cool. FINE I just had a terrible fashion sense.

That’s not the point.

The point is that I brought them to college with me and then brought them to France during my semester abroad. At some point in France, I realized just how giant these pants were:

It's unclear why I was ever under the impression these pants fit normally.

I mean, really, you’d think I’d lost some impressive amount of weight and wanted to illustrate it. Nah, I just had an incredibly skewed concept of how small or big I really was.

Shortly after my Giant Pants Epiphany, I started experimenting with how much of my body I could fit into these pants. Turns out, it was all of it:

This is what we did for fun in France.

Around the same time I was playing the Fit My Entire Body In a Pair of Pants Game, Facebook introduced photo albums and something called “tagging.” As you can imagine, these pictures got posted – and tagged – immediately. (They’re still tagged. Why would I ever take them down?)

This one was particularly popular with two of my roommates:

If you don't see a giant gray ass with a head, you need your eyes checked.

My roommates began referring to me as Assy McGee. Apparently I needed a crash course in clothing sizes and  pop culture: Assy wasn’t just an endearing nickname, but an actual cartoon character.

I'm not sure there's an appropriate caption for this.

It’s been six years and I wear smaller pants now, but I’ve never actually lived this down.

Everyone’s On Fire, or That Time My Grandma Set Me Up

13 Jan

So I got fired recently. Oh, you heard about that? Ok well lucky for you that’s not the point of this story.

I sent the obligatory Crappy Life Update Email to my ginormous immediate family since they are all (very loving) gossip mongers and hounds and if I didn’t tell everyone the (simple) story myself, it would snowball out of control until what really happened is that I was actually lit on fire.

(Yes, I actually got laid off, which is different from getting fired, but I didn’t want to make a joke about my family thinking I got laid. Or something.)

Moving on. So my grandma calls me shortly after this email goes out. She’s so frantic you might assume she was actually on fire, but no, she’s just very concerned and loves me very much and wants to know how I’m doing.

Unfortunately, it’s in this same conversation that I have to admit to having a boy roommate. It sounds like her already palpitating heart comes to a complete halt until she very nicely composes herself and accepts my explanation that it is 2012 and girls can live with boys and not date them and not be awkward and also not be destined to burn in hell. (Again, with the fire. That was unintentional.)

After her shock wears off and she’s sure I’m definitely not on fire or going to be on fire or suffering some deep emotional duress from being laid off (hold the sex jokes here, it’s my grandma), she has some other news.

Her friends from church have a daughter who just moved to New York. Will I please call her?

Seriously – that’s what she says to me. “My friends from church have a daughter who just moved to New York City. Can you call her?”

I said, Grandma, that’s awkward. But if you get me her e-mail address I’m happy to reach out to her that way!

Did I mention my grandma lives in Idaho? Can you imagine that phone call?

“Hi, Sara. [Oh, yeah, we have the same name, too.] This is Sara. My grandma knows your parents at church in Idaho. Want to hang out in NYC?”

Right? Awkward.

But then I get a letter in the mail with some stationery with Sara’s information printed on it. All of Sara’s information. Her e-mail address, her phone number, and her physical address. Like I might mail her something. Grandmas!

So I got this letter the other day and I sent Sara an email seeing if she wanted to hang out. Of course she did, since I’m nice and we have the same name and we are both from Idaho and now we’re in New York. Also, since she’s new and wants to make friends.

I met Sara today at Cafe Lalo, which is that super cute cafe featured in that horribly dated movie You’ve Got Mail, which is of course all about being introduced by that awkward old guy telling you that … you’ve got mail.

Appropriate setting, I think, for a blind friend-date set up by my grandma. In Idaho.

Oh, and there’s still no one on fire. Or getting laid.

Your Boyfriend’s Not Invited

17 Oct

Maybe it’s because it’s birthday season. Maybe I’ve been organizing more RSVP-needed events lately. Maybe I’ve just been attending more of them. Whatever it is, something weird has been happening…

It all started when I had my birthday party a few weeks ago. A close friend of mine sent in her affirmative RSVP … and included her boyfriend. I’d met this particular boyfriend just twice, though they’d recently moved in together. In what I think is an understandable reaction, I was pretty put off by this presumption. He hadn’t been invited, nor did he actually know any of the other guests attending – including me!

He ended up being out of town and, anyway, my birthday party was an absolute blast. I’m sure I’d have had just as much fun had he attended.

But then it happened again. And again. And lately, every organized event has culminated in some girlfriend being unable or unwilling to leave her boyfriend at home!

Here’s the thing – he wasn’t invited. Not only was he not invited, but he also doesn’t know any of the other people going. On top of those things, these are Reservation Required events – random people can’t just tag along, even if the random people are serious boyfriends.

But you know what the real problem here is? It’s not that these girls have become units with their boyfriends – something that inherently drives me nuts. It’s the presumptuousness of it all!

Living arrangements and relationship status makes no difference, really, though the pattern as of late has been the girl with the newly-moved-in-boyfriend.

If you lived with your parents and you were invited to a birthday party, would you bring them along without asking? Do you automatically invite your roommates everywhere you’re asked, even if they have never met the other parties?

Even when you have a friend new to town and you want to introduce her to all your amazing, wonderful, engaging friends – don’t you first ask if it’s ok that you bring her?

The thing that upsets me – no, it actually enrages me! – is the presumption attached to the “Oh, I’m bringing so-and-so.”

So, friends, please – when you get an invitation and it doesn’t have some version of “the more the merrier,” go ahead and ask whether it’s ok if you bring someone else.

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