November 24, 2017
I’m such a bumbling idiot.
I was fine a second ago, I swear. I was able to hold a normal conversation without forgetting how to speak, without losing my fine motor control. I could joke about my brother’s antics with one of his classmates sitting at the same table as us. I could tap away on my keyboard, lip syncing shamelessly to my music in my earbuds like it’s nobody’s business.
But the moment a guy with curly, strawberry blond hair stepped into my peripheral vision, chowing down on Funyuns, all my senses sharpened. He offered Funyuns to my brother and his classmate, pulling out a chair next to the both of them. I lifted my eyes from my laptop screen—bad idea, girl.
My jaw immediately dropped, a stuttering, “uh,” escaping my lips and as he gestured his Funyuns, offering some to me, too. I tried to lift my hand from the computer mouse while simultaneously reaching to pull the earbud out of my ear. And instead of gracefully completing the task in one smooth motion, I threw the mouse at myself, yanked the cord out of my ear, and croaked out a hoarse, “No, I’m fine, thanks,” probably topped off with an alluring nervous eye twitch.
Picking the mouse up from my lap, I placed it back on the table, blinking hard, hoping it wasn’t as horrifyingly embarrassing as I felt like it was. I replaced the dangling earbud into my ear and resumed my photo editing as though I totally didn’t make a fool of myself.
I hope he didn’t catch that.
Why in the world was I so nervous? Good grief, I’m so lame.