Before you know it, you're the crazy cat lady in the scary house

Uhhhhhhhmmmmmm

January 16, 2002 ... 10:55 a.m.

Uhhhhhhhmmmmmm

I think I may have been aducted by aliens.

No, not really, but today I talked to an old high school "friend" of mine. Well, "talked" is a bit of a misnomer. Allow me to explain.

I love to talk; I used to be able to talk about anything to anyone at anytime. When I was a senior, I was chattering *at* my mom from my bedroom one day. About an hour and a half into our 'conversation' she appeared in my doorway and said, "Have you been talking to me this whole time?" When I replied in the affirmative, she said she had been at the grocery store for the last two hours. Hmmm.

For another example of my talkativeness (is that a word?), I met Ex-President Bill Clinton at a Des Moines fundraiser (I was 19 or 20, I think). I had on my favorite watch, which had a Kennedy half-dollar for a face. Clinton saw it, complimented me on it and we proceeded to have a nearly ten minute conversation about JFK.

Anyone, anytime, anything.

Fast forward to age 22. I am having lunch with my friend(I'll call him "Joe" for purposes of anonymity), actually I am eating (rather, picking) and he is waiting to board a bus.

I have known Joe since we were 17, okay? He's not a stranger. Sweet, funny, nice guy. And, yeah, he's not exactly hard on the eyes either. Anyway, I think I left him with the impression that, somewhere between high school graduation and lunch four years later, I had suffered a traumatic brain injury that impaired my ability to speak.

HE's talking; I'm nearly silent. He asks a question, I can't think. All of a sudden, I'm worried I'll say something stupid.

Like that has ever stopped me before.

The little voice in my head is screaming, "What is wrong with you? SPEAK! It's Joe, for crying in the petunias! You knew him when he was on drumline! SPEAK! Quick, say something about Arizona!"

I think what I actually uttered was something more along the lines of "Uhhhhhhhmmmmmm."

Brilliant!

And it's not like Joe makes me nervous. I mean, I think he's really cute (brown hair, blue [I KNOW!] eyes and--this summer--a goatee which, for future reference, I rather enjoy. Sideburns, goatees, what-have-you) and he does have a killer smile.

But what I am trying to say is that I have no romantic designs on him or anything like that that might make me all tongue tied. Which is not to say that, if he asked, I wouldn't be interested. I'm sure I would, but that's neither here nor there.

ANYWAY, okay, so everyone's entitled to a second chance, right? The next time I see Joe it's all good, right? WRONG! One, I'm embarrassed about our earlier conversation. Two, my knee is killing me--so I can't stand on it very long and Joe is not a petite fella. He has to practically bend at the waist to look me in the eye when I'm standing. Can we say awkward?

He speaks and we're right back to "Uhhhhhhhmmmmmm."

And it's not just him, it's everybody. I suddenly always seem to feel awkward and out of place. I don't know why. Except here. Here, I can spill my guts to complete strangers (in the nicest sense of the word) and not be embarrassed.

Of course, I'm not likely to bump into one of you at the mall. And I would just die if anyone I knew read this.

More likely, I'd just "Uhhhhhhhmmmmmm" myself into a coma!

~*~

Have a happy day!

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