You know those moments when you say or do something stupid? Those times when you know your face is beet red and wish you could either whither to the ground into a puddle like the Wicked Witch of the West or hit rewind to start over. Well, I had a donkey arse moment today…
I was walking out of the gym, sweaty and cheerful. I was by myself, which isn’t the norm. My work-out buddy is usually attached to my hip (our gym nick-name is the Siamese Twins), but she had to leave early today. I spotted a new friend walking ahead of me. She is this spunky, sassy gal who is so cheerful. We are newly acquainted. We just friended each other on Facebook. I’m thinking that since my conjoined twin isn’t here, I need someone to chat with on the way to the parking lot.
I yell, “Michelle!” I’m thinking how great it is I’m branching out, meeting new people. She seems so nice. Maybe we can get a protein shake after class sometime or tell each other about a great garage sale.
Michele doesn’t turn around. She just keeps walking. I’m not that far behind her. I yell again, “Michele!”
I’ve got my cute smirk on my face, waiting to give her a wink when she turns around. She doesn’t turn around.
What the heck. Why isn’t my new friend acknowledging me? Doesn’t she want to swap recipes or follow my blog?
I jog up to her and give her a gentle shoulder nudge and say, “Hi.”
She says, “Hi” back. Then she says, “My name is Melissa not Michele.” Insert scarlet blush and a thought bubble above my head reading, “Crap, crap, crap.”
I tell her how sorry I am. I even tell her that my work-out buddy and I have a nickname for her. Since we have trouble remembering gym people’s names, we make up nicknames for them. Melissa’s is “Melissa Gilbert” from Little House on the Prairie. They both have reddish hair, so it fits, except in my brain it was Michele from Little-House-on-a-Different-Planet-Prairie.
Melissa was very sweet and giggled with me about my snafu. I hope she doesn’t block me from Facebook or worse, start calling me Barbara (my name is Becca).