I Said What I Meant

I think we've all had them: 

Moments where our mouths open and out tumbles a ball of profundity. 

Profound only in the sense that those moments sear themselves into your memory.

I've had plenty.

Like the time when I was completely infatuated with the beautiful man on campus, and, when finding him sitting alone eating his lunch one day, mustered up all the courage I didn't have and approached him.  (Me.  I approached him.)  And if my awkwardness wasn't apparent enough by my Ute-red blushed face, I proceded to dig my own social grave:

Me:  "Hi."

Him:  "Oh, hi.  It's Andrea right?"

Me:  "Yes.  How are you?"

Him:  "Fine.  You?"

Me:  "Fine."

Uncomfortable pause.

Me:  "So, you're eating lunch?"

Him:  "Um, yeah."

Me:  "Well, that's a mighty big pickle you got there."

Him: looking down at his Vlassic kosher theater pickle, and then back at me.  Complete confusion.

Me:  [OH. MY. HECK.  Did I seriously just say that!?!?]

Him:  "Uhh..........yeah."

Me:  "Well, see ya."



I just about checked myself into a convent after that one...




Fast forward a few years and several social calibrations later:

I was at church.  Not only was I at church, but I was speaking at church.  And to be sure, I wrote down every single word that I aimed to let escape from my lips.  Every word.  I learned not to trust my tounge to ad lib when speaking in slighly-less-than-comfortable settings.

Talk finished.  Not a hitch.

Then, while walking out of the chapel, a beautiful man approached me.  He approached me.  (Come to find out the first beautiful man was highly overrated anyway.)

Him:  "Hey, I just wanted to say I really liked your talk."

Me:  "Yeah?"

Him:  "Yeah.  It was slammin'!"

Slight pause.

Me:  "Slammin', huh?"  [Who says that??]  "What did you say your name is?"



And I knew it was a match made in Heaven.