I always say ‘no one can embarrass me like I can embarrass me’ and I’ve managed to (not so gracefully) uphold that truth. I figured you’d all enjoy basking in a hot-tub of chronic shame and facetiousness with me so let’s just jump right into it shall we.
For a good year I had been admiring a guy from afar but could never seem to muster up the courage to to do anything about it. So instead of talking to him like any other normal human being would do, I just kind of decided to longingly stare at the back of his head for a year and on occasion (when I wanted to get real fancy) I’d nonchalantly wave ‘hi’ to him like I didn’t just imagine our heads as wedding-cake toppers the day before. Anyways, fast forward to last October, my big girl panties finally arrived in the mail and I decided to invite him out with a couple other friends. So what did I do? I baked him brownies (the normal kind, before any of you jump to conclusions; we are law abiding citizens here on Natvice). Well, I baked the entire group brownies but they were mainly for him, which was a great display of my eligible soccer mom skills and just about only that. That night he had mentioned his birthday was the following weekend, so, like any other young lady looking to reel in a future husband would do, I baked him cookies… (Twice actually, once for Christmas). Nice going Nathia: ‘Hey, I’m interested in you, here’s a stack of cookies I made from scratch in the middle of the night I’m just going to not make eye contact and run away now’. On top of that, I also bought him a card that read ‘Nice Buns‘ with a photo of a smiling hamburger on it (iiiiiiiiiii’m just about as smooth as sandpaper). So, now that he knew I was Black Martha Stewart without the jail time and successfully complimented his butt via Hallmark card, I figured it was time to go in for the kill; (lucky for me ‘the kill’ meant continuing to act as if I hadn’t created our entire virtual family on The Sims; dog and all). And let us not forget the fact that when I gave him the gift and he stretched out his hand (clearly initiating a hug of gratitude) and I stood there in silence for a good 7 seconds contemplating whether he was trying to give me a handshake, high-5 or ‘dap’. By the grace of God and much deliberation, I decided to go in for the hug.
Fast-forward about three months and my magical (pitiful) attempts to wine and dine had somehow worked. We talked briefly every day, he eventually asked me for my number and surprisingly on a” date”; I use that word VERY loosely (which by the way, never happened) aaaaaand then there was the time he walked me to class. Now, every time I had talked to him before, I’d forget to breathe and end up gasping for air after he left; how graceful of me. This time, I decided to take it up a notch and totally forget how to speak English. As we were talking my vocal cords decided to freestyle and I ended up letting out the most unmistakable stutter know to man halfway through my sentence. Basically, It sounded like I was busting out the chorus of Lil Wayne’s song ‘Lollipop’ at a whopping 60mph. In that moment I wanted to crawl into a box packing peanuts and just sit there for three days.
Long story short, I do not know how to properly function as a human being. I could go on for hours about my terribly awkward (nonexistent) love life but I think I’ll just leave it here, for my own sake. I’ll post random stories like this only every once in a while I guess, just for funsies. And for those of you with chronic second-hand embarrassment like myself, I’m sure this post was absolutely riveting. Leave some of your embarrassing moments in the comments! I’d love to read them in an attempt to salvage what’s left of my pride. Hope you found some sort of enjoyment in my pain.
Until next week,