Stories I've been meaning to tell, Pt. 2

The Big E calls this Exhibit 248 of why I should not be allowed to leave the house on my own.

This all happened in 2002 and it is (HANDS DOWN) the most embarassing thing I have ever done. I had just given birth to Mr. Little Man and I was at the grocery store buying diapers and formula and baby cereal and in general ruminating on all things childlike. I was new to the whole parent thing and I was trying to figure out what type of baby cereal to buy. I guess this poor stranger walking down the aisle saw that I was completely lost and decided to offer up some help. He starts explaining the difference in cereals and he is asking what sounds like really intelligent baby questions (I say "sounds" because again, new parent, I had no idea). We end up having this very long conversation about babies and kids and it turns out that he is a doctor (a resident....in pediatrics, hence all the baby knowledge). We start talking about books and music and we find we have alot in common. So, he gives me his number and invites me to lunch and tells me to call him whenever I have a question. This was not a "I want to date you" type of situation; I was definetly not getting that vibe.

I look at the paper on which he wrote the number and I see that his name is Gary. Right away my mind zaps to the "Ambiguosly Gay Duo" from Saturday Night Live and I start singing the the theme song. The problem is that my hormones hadn't balanced themselves out yet and I was using my "out loud" voice instead of my "inside my head" voice. Gary asks me if I am singing the Ambiguously Gay Duo song. I know I have mentioned my campaign of brutal honesty in the past but I was so caught off guard at his question that I completly denied it and said, "no". Clearly that was a lie and I'd been caught, but I tried, to no avail, to deny it. Of course, I was both embarrassed and feeling like a complete ass, but thank god he had a sense of humor about it.

So I start to explain to him that I didn't think he was gay and that I have lots of gay friends so if he was gay I wouldn't care and that either way I had been harboring a secret desire to be someone's fag hag and that I hoped he wasn't offended by the term fag hag and then finally (FINALLY!) I was able to shut up for 2 seconds and stop digging myself further into a hole. He was laughing the entire time I was babbling. I took the piece of paper he gave me with his name written on it, turned it over and wrote my name and number on it and gave it to him. I figured that if he ever wanted to speak to me again he could call me. Long story short, he didn't. But can you really blame him?

What I am reading: Arabesque - Claudia Roden. Also, this Slate article......I am totally buying that book.
What I am listening to: Amy Winehouse - Love is a loosing game. I finally got around to downloading her newest album. I love Amy Winehouse....I love her honesty, I love her pain, I love her voice; I love that she is (essentially) a hot fucking mess. Oh, who am I kidding? If I were in my early twenties and we ran in the same social circle she'd be my best friend.