Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Painfully Awkward, Part 2

Let's recap! (and I have a correction) (Part 1 is the last post)

Upon reflection, on the day I met my not future husband, it was not the first week of class. So I was just late and lazy, not lost.

This is important for me to clarify because I really did put effort in to my appearance when I started school. By the time of this story, we were well in to fall, and I did not care, especially in the morning.

How did I realize this timing mistake? My dear Roomie asked me if I was wearing shoes during this encounter.

The answer was no, I was not. I went through a ridiculous, idealistic college phase where I didn't wear shoes as some kind of absurd protest against poverty and shoeless children. Some idea about being barefoot in solidarity, or something. I was a hipster before hipster was thing. And I had really tough feet.

So, there I am. On the path. Bare foot. I am wearing sweatpants that I had hacked the bottoms off to make them into long, ragged shorts and a bright red Old Navy polar fleece. I have not done my hair or make up, and as it is morning, I am rocking my legendary bed head.


I am a hot mess, without any of the hot and extra mess. I am a mess mess. 

And there he is. Jeremy Wariner. In all his glory. Walking towards me in the blinding sunlight. I'm fairly sure there was a heavenly choir in the background. 

And I stand there, frozen solid, looking a mess mess, jaw hanging open. I just stop walking, moving, and thinking. Like a really smelly statue.

And he keeps walking towards me. And then he's smirking. And as I continued not to move at all, he is outright laughing. And then he is right in front of me.

Did I move? Make a cute joke and scrape my rats nest out of my face? Jump out of the way? Anything? No. Nothing. I am made of humiliated stone. 

My not future husband then has to step on to the grass to go around me, howling with laughter. He continues on his way, and that is that. A while later, I turn around and go back to my dorm. I had strong rules about not going to class (am I sick? do I have something due in another class that isn't done? is there something more fun to do? is it raining? am I dying of humiliation? No class).

One more story, for your entertainment.

This one took place when I was fourteen. I was newly back in the United States, complete with significant gap in pop culture knowledge. 

My cousin's friend was the stage manager for Switchfoot, an up and coming band (this was right at the beginning of "The Beautiful Letdown" era). She asked me if I would like to go with her to their concert. 

My first American concert (Amy Grant doesn't count, but man, her Heart in Motion tour was spot on, I don't care who you are) with my cool older cousin?! YES.

I was pumped. I wore my fancy unicorn t-shirt.... puberty was tough on me. 

We met the friend at Starbucks and then he asked if we wanted to see the tour bus.

Uh. Yeah.

We get on the bus and there are other people on the bus, other staff and little people, etc. 

We're all hanging out laughing, everyone is so nice! I'm so cool! Living in the United States is a breeze! I've got this!

Someone asks if we want to see the new music video. 

Uh. Yeah.

 PAUSE: Remember that gap in pop culture? I had no idea who Switchfoot was, other than they were cool and famous. 

We sit down at the back of the bus to watch and as it plays I realize something. 

These aren't little people. They aren't staff. They're the people in the music video.

 I'm hanging out with Switchfoot. 


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