Embarrassing moments, I have had quite a few. The moments where you are frozen in time, wondering who exactly caught this horrifying incident in your life. I’ve done it all. Tripped and fallen flat on my face with a crowd of strangers watching. Flashed my almost bare bum walking into Walmart one windy day, thanks to the great idea of wearing my favorite skirt and my pretty black thong. All of which, while embarrassing, are incidents which happen to us all. They are moments we can laugh and walk away from, well eventually. More importantly we can learn from them and hopefully not repeat them in the future. When we are running down a long flight of stairs, we hold the railing for dear life. When wearing our best flowy skirt, we do not wear a thong. In fact, since that day, I don’t believe I have ever worn another thong. Easy enough right? Then there are the mistakes, the big regrets, that are not so easy to fix. The ones that live in your brain and pop up every so often and make us hang our heads with a little shame. For me these are the incidents when my brain and my mouth do not match up. When whatever it is that connects the two decides to have a little vacation and leaves me wide eyed, trying to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.
My most memorable of these moments, the one that will haunt me till the day I die, involves me in my most vulnerable state. Trying to flirt. Flirting does not always come natural to me. Yes, I can sit down with the boys and knowledgably talk about sports or hold my own with a little politics jargon. I can laugh along with the crowd and maybe even bat my eyelashes a little from across the room. This is as far as it goes. Give me a one-on-one conversation with someone that piques my interest and get ready to watch the show.
A few years back I managed a bar. A quant little pub with an almost “Cheers” feel. A special little spot where people could come and go, knowing there was always a place to hang where everyone knew their name. Regulars came daily for their after-work chats, vacationers popped in for a beer and some of the best secret wings in town. Everyone left with a smile on their face and a feeling of contentment after the entertaining conversations and delightful stories revealed throughout the day.
One fine workday at the bar, me and my coworker are having a typical day. A few regulars around sipping on a drink, the sun is shining on the deck giving everyone an extra little bit of joy. My bestie is in for a visit, so I am feeling rather good. When I hear about another friend stopping by to say hello. This is my coworkers good buddy who lives away and is home for a little vacation. My interest is piqued, uh oh. This boy is my friend, we always seem to have a good banter that we both seem to enjoy. In no way is he a romantic interest but he is fun to talk to and maybe flirt with a little. Yea he is about to get some of my best flirting yet to date. While waiting for his arrival I am trying my best to be cool. Serving my customers, joking with my bestie and coworker, everyone having a great time. All the while I am trying to think of something witty to say to the boy. A few things cross my mind, I am ready to do this, I can do this.
In walks the boy, right through the back door of course, immediately catching me off guard. His best bud runs over and gives him a typical man hug. I am behind the bar with my best smile on, showing my dimples and let’s be honest a little cleavage. He looks to me with a sweet smile and a “Hey Misses” (Misses being my beloved nickname). I smile back all confident and say “Hey, would you like a drink fatty?”. Oh yes, these are the exact words that came out of my mouth. Immediate devastation builds throughout my body. Did I just say that? I look to my bestie and her face tells me I did. Everyone’s face tells me I did. I am frozen. I have absolutely no idea of how to move on from here. Luckily, the boy finally chirps up after he picks his chin from the floor and says he will have a rum and soda. My mind says Thank you thank you thank you, is this over yet? And then I pop back into my bartender role and go to my usual question for this. Would you like diet or regular? I did not ask this question however, maybe it was my brain finally kicking in telling me this would not be a smart idea, or maybe I just couldn’t get any words out. Either way I poured him his rum and diet soda. Handing it to him saying, “On the house of course”. Hopefully, that will make up for the devastating insult when walking through the door. Welcome home my friend.
This boy is thankfully still my friend. He accepted my apology text sent immediately after his departure, when of course there were no witnesses to our exchange. We had a little laugh and agreed that I get a failing grade for my attempt at flirting that day. This does not however change the fact that these seven little words haunt me to this day. “Hey, would you like a drink fatty?”, randomly and fairly often pops into my brain. Anytime I see someone I am interested in, when I pour a rum and diet for a customer, or even when my mind is idle thinking about nothing. Yup, good old fatty pops up and I shake my head wondering just where it came from. Safe to say I have learned a good lesson from this encounter. In the future, no boy I am “trying” to flirt with will ever be called fatty again. “Hey, would you like a drink fatty?” will only be heard from my friends’ mouths when they tease me about this highly embarrassing incident, or of course in my nightmares. Certainly, this is not to say that my brain and my mouth won’t have another disconnect leaving me awestruck. What comes out of my mouth however, who knows? Stay tuned fattys; oops I mean folks!
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