One of my favorite ways to spend time is to sit around with my friends, swapping stories about our most awkward moments and laughing until we cry. I'm going to tell you that it's mostly good entertainment, but I think that deep down, on some weird psychological level, I need these conversations to assure me that I'm not alone. That there are other people who are
as awkward as me awkward, too. So, because everyone likes to say the blogging is cheaper than real psychiatric help (it is), and I know a bargain when I see it, I'm going to take this opportunity to get my latest awkward moment off my chest, for freeee! Please enjoy.
Let me just preface this story by reminding you of how awkward I can be. I don't mind it that much, which is good because now that I think about it, That Awkward Moment could easily be a weekly segment for me from now until blogs become obsolete or I die. Daily, maybe. Like that time that I returned a sweatshirt to a boy I didn't like anymore while he was in conversation with a girl who actually did like him. And also happened to be one of my best friends. Uhh. And that time I got caught car dancing really impressively at the longest red light in the world. So. Cool. Stay tuned, because there is so much more where that came from.
I spent my Labor Day weekend with eleven people in a cottage with one bathroom. Ya heard me! One. In other words, we all spent a considerable amount of time trying to control our bladders while waiting for someone else to get out of the shower or do their hair or
back up and plunge the toilet not like I did that, ew. We all learned to brush our teeth using any source of moving water available. The bathroom trash can filled up really fast. And whenever you were in there with all of your clothes on, you could pretty much count on someone else showing up to pluck an eyebrow or wash fish guts off of their hands or something. It was a growing experience.
The first few underbathroomed hours were smooth sailing. I didn't get walked in on or walk in on anyone or anything. And then it happened. Elise and I were innocently starting out what was soon to be a long lasting Donkey Kong addiction when one of the house owners showed up AT HIS OWN HOUSE. The NERVE! Normally I wouldn't take issue with someone showing up at their place of residence, but this particular person happens to be pretty attractive. As in, he was a senior when I was a freshman and he was my senior crush - that was the extent of our relationship. Normally, I wouldn't take issue with sharing a house with an attractive boy, but unfortunately attractive boys tend to bring out my awkward like freckles in the sun. Really huge, noticeable freckles. And not the cute kind.
It happened on Saturday morning. At around nine, the sun started shining in my eyes really brightly and the birds were yelling at me to get up, so up I got. I managed to roll out of my cot, grab my toothbrush, unzip the tent, and emerge from it without clotheslining myself on one of the ropes anchoring it to the ground, all with my eyes still mostly closed. I stumbled over and under the three other anchor ropes like some kind of sleepy ninja and dragged my feet through the wet lawn, up a wooden step, and onto the deck, where I took a moment to assess my next action and force my eyelids up a little higher. Right, the door. Open the door. I opened the creaky screen door and the considerably less creaky, but harder to open, wood one. Through the open door, I could see that the bathroom was, miraculously, unoccupied, so I made a beeline for it with the kind of focus only observed in those who aren't fully conscious.
Once inside, I handled the toothpaste bottle with dexterity. (See also: dropping it four or five times before succeeding to land some Crest on my toothbrush.) I glanced in the mirror and was surprised by two things: my
ratchet very beautiful morning hair and face and the reflection of Senor Crush standing behind me. No, I wasn't dreaming. I think. My first reaction was blind panic, closely followed by
"Oh, I guess he thinks now would be a good time to confess his undying love to me." So, with that in mind, I decided that it would be best to start brushing my teeth until he had worked up the courage to voice his feelings. He was apparently really nervous, because he came into the bathroom, standing next to me, still without saying a word. I patiently waited. He could take his time. And then, just as I was leaning over the sink to spit out my toothpaste, he made his move. He reached right across the sink to where his own toothbrush was, narrowly avoiding a mouthful of morning-breath tinged water, saliva, and Crest. Well, that was unexpected. Our conversation went something like this.
Me: Oh.
Him. Uh.
Me: Um.
Him: Sorry.
Me: Yeah.
I was a little embarrassed, but I assumed he was done there, and my teeth weren't clean yet. So I kept brushing, monopolizing the sink because HE HAD OBVIOUSLY SEEN THAT ANY ATTEMPTS AT GRABBING HIS TOOTHBRUSH RIGHT NOW WERE FUTILE and also I was still mostly asleep and didn't really understand what he was trying to do. Except he still wasn't leaving, so my hope that he had something really important to tell me was renewed. This continued, with him collecting his thoughts and me brushing, for a good thirty to forty-five seconds. Finally, he broke the silence. "Can I just grab my toothpaste really quick?" No confession of love.
It looked like unexpected plot twists were going to be the theme of the day.
I woke up a little bit at that point And then I realized that, in spite of my attempts, the awkward bathroom encounter had happened. (We'll save the story of how I single handedly backed up - and fixed. AND FIXED, mind you, the toilet for another time.) Also, the shocking reality that Senor Crush was not, in fact, in love with me, came crashing down on my head. It was a rough way to wake up. Please do not think any less of me based on the actions of my barely - awake self. Thanks.
Awkwardly yours,
Allie
