“Which one of these is maroon?” Why the hell do I always play on maroon sports teams? Is it some kind of crazy masochism or a horrible cosmic joke? I swear, I’ve played on them since elementary school soccer. I love Virginia Tech football. And I’ve never been able to distinguish maroon from green.
“This one is. Wait, why are you asking?”
Because I want to make sure my bionic eye is working right. “Because I’m colorblind.”
Yesterday I was sitting on my couch with my laptop, trying to type up a blog post. What was I going to write about? I really hadn’t said anything awkward to a girl in a while. Some of my relatives said some awkward things, but that just didn’t feel the same. I had an old thing that I might post on Thursday, but I kind of want Monday blog posts to be new awkward things.
Oh well. It was time to go play football with my friends up on Leigh Street. I closed my laptop, put my shoes on, and headed out to the car.
“You’re not thinkin’ I’m someone else?” Great first line, Tony. I like the approach.
“I know you are not.” Good tactic, Maria. Commit to nothing, wait for Tony’s next move.
“Or that we met before?”
“I know we have not.” Maria’s a pro.
I’m watching West Side Story, and I’m excited. Here’s the moment of truth for Tony.
I’m sitting in my cubicle doing work. All of a sudden, a really cute girl walks into my cubicle.
Here’s the thing. There aren’t very many cute girls who work in my building, mostly due to the fact that my company employs a ridiculous amount of 33-year-old men. And anyway, I know who all the cute ones in my building are. Cute girls that I’ve never seen before walk into my cubicle unannounced about once every never. What does this one want? Does she want to talk to me about a work thing? Will I get to have a conversation with her? Maybe she really likes my analysis and wants to learn what makes me so amazing at my job! I’m instantly excited.
Sometimes I’m wondering to myself as I post these posts - are these really that awkward? I mean, some of the things I’ve posted seem kind of normal to me. I make them worse by emphasizing how awkward I felt while saying them, which pretty much means I just describe the everyday workings of the interior of my mind. But honestly, who hasn’t walked up to a girl and said that it was their job to distract that girl while their friend hit on the girl’s friend? Who indeed.
Then again, maybe I’m still not yet fully aware of the fact that my internal awkward-scale isn’t a highly calibrated precision instrument. I don’t have to be thinking “holy crap, this interaction I’m having with another human being is a disaster” for what I’m saying to be, empirically, absolutely ridiculous.
Last week I went on vacation in Europe with two friends. I viewed this as a good opportunity to say awkward things to international girls. I really didn’t say anything nearly as awkward as what got said to me.
Don’t worry, though, I’m not cured.
An extra-cute girl who looked to be in her early twenties (and who had ribbons in her hair which always just absolutely kill me) sat in the train car with my friends and I on the way to Vienna.
Here’s a classic awkward thing to get you through your weekend.
Last winter I went to the ACC Championship Game so I could join a few friends in their consistent tradition of long road trips to see Virginia Tech lose to Florida State. We slept in Savannah. As we were leaving the motel room, some girls were walking by.
“Is this a good place to stay?” they asked. “It’s not horrible, is it?”
