Guys, this is so embarrassing, I almost don’t want to tell you. Almost worse than the time I peed my pants at the grocery store when I was 10. I reallyreallyreallyreallyreally had to go so I thought maybe I could just let a little slip out to relieve some pressure and, well, it went downhill from there.
(I should be way more embarrassed about that, considering I was, you know, 10, and supposed to have more control over my bodily functions. Instead, I’m sitting in front of this here blog cackling away at the hilarity of it all. Hindsight. It’s a beautiful thing.)
ANYWAY, the real Embarrassing Fact About Me:
At age 30, I have never been:
In a relationship
On a date!
I know, right? To answer your imaginary questions, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I do not bat for the other team (I like boys. Boys boys boys boys boys. Sorry, dad) and sure, we can talk about you setting me up with your best friend’s brother’s classmate’s cousin’s neighbor.
Before all you more experienced folks launch into (not so) helpful diatribes like, “Well, at least you never wasted your time with the wrong person!” or “It’s better to be single than with the wrong person!” or “Just wait, the right person will come along when you stop looking for them!” (Here are my replies in order: “So true!” and “Amen, sir!” and “WHAT does that even mean?!”)
As my mom pointed out the other day, if being single is so great, why aren’t all the married folk (usually the dispensers of the sage advice above) single?
BOOM, roasted. And THAT’S why we don’t mess with mamas. They know of which they speak.
Part of the reason for my singleness has to be my generous awkwardness with the opposite sex. I am oblivious, for one thing. I am pretty sure if some guy asked,
I would answer brightly, “Oh, just fine! How are you?!”
I even strike out in my dreams. I had this dream the other night that I got pulled over by a rather handsome cop, who fell somewhere between
|Mike Vogel – source|
|Taylor Handley – source|
Which is weird, because I don’t normally go for blondes, but Subconscious wins this round. So, a little irrelevant but nonetheless quirky back story: In real life, whenever I get pulled over (I don’t mean to imply that I get pulled over constantly. In fact, I only recently broke my 10-year streak of not getting pulled over. True story), I always feel compelled to put the officer at ease and over-explain what I’m doing. “Oh, you want my license? OK, it is in my purse, which is on the floor, so I’m going to reach over and get it.” You know, so they don’t think I’m about to pull a gun on them. Obvs.
Back to my dream. I was pulled over for speeding and Officer Handsome saunters up to my door. I roll my window down and he asks to see my license, which prompts me to begin my over-explaining ritual. I hand him my license and then say, “And my registration is in the glove box. I’m going to lean over and get it from the glove box now.”
He glances at my license, likes what he sees (of course) and interrupts me. “Oh, ma’am,” he says, grinning, “I don’t need to see your registration.”
Startled, I repeat, “You don’t need to see my registration?!”
“Oh no,” he says. “In fact, you’re free to go.” Flirty smirk. And hands me back my license.
Meanwhile, he has a criminal locked up in the back of his squad car, who has been watching the whole thing go down. Also, the squad car is parked in front of me, instead of behind, so clearly Officer Handsome has mad pulling-over skills. The criminal rolls his eyes and sputters, “Oh, just ask her out already! You clearly want to get together!”
Awkward laughter all around!
“Welllllll, ma’am,” Officer Handsome offers smoothly, “do you date police officers?”
“Well, that depends, Officer,” I murmur slyly, flirtatiously stroking my hair, totally unaware of how quickly I’m about to nosedive. “Do you date…. uhhh….. ummm…” Brain freeze. “… citizens?”
This was followed by another dream a few nights later that included one Mr. Channing Tatum. Oh, and not just any Channing Tatum. A version of him with FROSTED HAIR:
|“Werk, Boi” says the source. “What is even happening,” says Lucy.|
He was only present for about .062 seconds before my dream took off into a series of unfortunate events that ended with me frantically texting my college friends, “If I don’t make it back in time, just leave without me!” while being chased through a European villa/mall by a mobster. The highlight of Channing’s cameo consisted of me asking him to have my picture taken with him and breathlessly complimenting him on his performance in White House Down, while he politely, albeit boredly, thanked me and moved on with his life.
So to recap, in a fantasy world where I can do anything I want with Channing Tatum, the best my imagination could conjure up was, “Hey, take my picture?” with Frost Hair (a fad that not even Mr. Tatum can redeem). Really? REALLY?
My love life is doomed, I tell ya! Both my consciousnesses (regular and sub) are working against me! RUDE.
What’s your worst/most hilarious dating story? Or feel free to share an embarrassing “pee your pants” story. We all have them, right?