I think it is easier to laugh at myself, and find the humor in any situation, having dated for 15 years. I like retelling the horror stories and pointing fingers at the dumb men I’ve gone out with. My friends have their own lists of my foibles.
But this is a brief chapter about how I’ve been dumb. I could write a novel on the topic, as I am certainly my own worse critic. Let’s keep this brief.
- I once broke up with a man via email. It was years ago, and I was a total chicken shit. I regret not having the guts to look him in the eye to say goodbye. I do not regret breaking up with him, but I was not kind in how it ended.
- I once dated a man who I knew was in love with me; I was rebounding from major heartache. I hurt him, and while I had the guts to break up with him in person, the timing and the ache I caused remains my biggest life regret.
Now, have I ever told you about the time a boy I worked with in high school grabbed my butt, but instead got a handful of maxi pad? He looked at me with scared eyes and said, “It moved.” It was horrifying. What made matters worse was that I had a big, stupid high school crush on him, and was wearing my restaurant uniform, complete with smelling like fried tortilla chips. We always, always smelled like fried food working that job. So there we stood, him having immediately recoiled and me covering my mouth knowing precisely what happened.
“It moved,” remains code among my high school girlfriends for being in the most awkward, uncomfortable, agonizing social situation imaginable.
See? Isn’t this side of the story more fun?
Back to the goofballs.