Today was one of those days where I probably needed a shower before heading into public, but I decided that I'd venture out anyways and hope that I don't run into anyone I know. I tied my hair back, clipped my unruly bangs in, well, a clip, and pulled on a pair of pants that needed a wash as badly as I did and a t-shirt from my clothes-suitable-only-for-painting-in pile. I figured my big, dark sunglasses would provide me with the needed anonymity to pop out for a pack of rechargeable batteries and my daily dose of Vitamin D.
I'm about 25 feet from my front door, nose buried in cell phone, when a male voice shouts out my name. Now, I'm quite a jumpy person. I gasp as if I had witnessed a brutal murder when someone creeps up behind me (read: walks into the brightly lit room without me noticing). This is a trait of mine that He got to know very well. I like to think that my jumpiness is a sign that I'm fit...like, in the Charles Darwin sense. I'm convinced that my chances of surviving in the wild are better than my de-sensitized friends (read: normal people), but my 'fitness' can be cumbersome in urban settings. And by cumbersome I mean cause me to look like an idiot. So, when male voice shouts out my name, what do I do? I look up, and before I register that it's Teenage Heartthrob passing by on his bike, I flail both my arms in the air like I'm a white dude with zero rhythm trying unsuccessfully to initiate the wave at a Snoop Dog concert. (In the wild, this gesture would function to scare off predators by making me look larger and more dangerous than I actually am.) I try to recover with what turns out to be a feeble-voiced, drawn out, "Oh, hhhaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiii."
Worse yet, I didn't even look cute to make up for my utter dorkiness.
Conclusion: I may be fit for the wild, but I have reason to be concerned for my survival in the dating world...
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