A different blog asked for submissions of the worst scheduling nightmare ever. I shared mine there, then thought I'd copy it here. Because I crave humiliation.
So here it is. This happened years ago. I am old now. The shame lingers.
As a recent college graduate, I was lovin’ life. Had my own apartment, a decent -albeit boring- job, a nice boyfriend. But there was this other guy. For me, this other guy was just a friend. I was up front with him and he understood that although I would go out with him on occasion, we were not dating. He said he was fine with that. Still, I knew he had a horrible, huge crush on me.
So one Tuesday evening my boyfriend arrives at the apartment at 7:00. We are just hanging out with my roommate and her boyfriend, playing cards and discussing where we want to go for dinner. I’m uneasy for some reason I can’t identify. The doorbell rings. 7:30. Suddenly my feelings of unease intensify and my stomach falls through the floor.
I go to the door, open it one inch, and slither out (like the slimeball snot-covered slug that I was). With a cold sweat breaking through my deodorant and a face afire, I tell guy-friend that I have another date. Then I walk him to his car. And sit with him. While he CRIES.This bit I didn't put in the other blog because it shows how truly shallow I was at the time.
It was all I could do to not tell this guy that his orange car clashed with his red hair and he should consider trading it for something green or blue. Hopefully I'm a bit more mature now. And as poetic justice would have it, my hair increasingly matches my silver car.