Oh my GOD. People. Keep me away from other people, okay?
Last night Jason and I went out for dinner, alone. Gloriously alone. And it was glorious.
Afterward we decided to have a glass of wine at the restaurant's bar before hailing a cab home, home where our dog had most likely taken a dump somewhere and our baby was just waiting to wake up at the sound of the front door opening and scream bloody protestations at being left with a babysitter and also where the damn cat was, the damn cat whom I am no longer speaking to after I realized that he chewed off all the straps on all the sundresses in my highly scientific dry-cleaning pile.
There were exactly two empty seats at the bar, and I pressed towards them with singular determination and purpose.
I turned around and realized that Jason was shaking hands with someone back near the entrance of the bar. I huffed back over, while thinking nasty impatient thoughts (we could lose those seats! I could have to STAND UP while drinking! what the hell!).
The guy Jason was talking to seemed to know who I was. "Hi!" he said brightly, "I'm Tom!"
I smiled over-biggly and probably showed too much of my gums and shook his hand, while waiting for Jason to provide some context. Work? Blog? Work? Hmm?
Tom of Mystery: Congratulations, by the way!
Tom of Mystery: Congratulations on...the...baby?
Amy: Oh! Right! Him. Yes.
Tom of Mystery: glances around at our babyless state in alarm, probably wondering if I always need to be reminded that I had a child at all and whether I had perhaps left him with the restroom attendant
I muttered something about having a babysitter and possibly a joke about the whole baby thing being so last year, and then frantically eyed those empty seats at the bar and telepathically begged Jason to LET ME KNOW WHO THIS PERSON IS OR RELEASE ME BACK TO THE ALCOHOL. They kept talking while I was suddenly overcome with the sensation of having something in my teeth.
Finally something in their conversation triggered a flash of recognition. Something about...food. Something about getting lunch one time last summer. Something about the hushed, conspiratorial way he'd said his name. Toooom.
"Holy shit." I suddenly blurted out of nowhere. "You're Tom Sietse..."
I stopped there, thanks to the burning glares of glarey death I was now getting from both of them.
Then I told him I was a "big fan, man. A really big fan." I think I shook his hand again.
I went into my own patented oh-my-God-I-want-him-to-think-I-am-cool-hyperoverdrive mode, and pretty much hijacked the entire conversation, pointing out that we had the babysitter because it was our first time at this particular restaurant and we NEVER take the baby the first time because you just never know if it would be appropriate, you know? and we are so not THOSE PEOPLE who drag their baby everywhere because they assume everyone loves their baby although OMG, do you want to see pictures? I have pictures, also am I talking too loud? Am I talking too much? What?
Pretty much the only redeeming aspect of the entire encounter was that since I hadn't been able to order a glass of wine, I didn't spill anything on his nice jacket.
One day, I want to be graceful. I want to smile without baring all my teeth. I want to stay calm and reserved throughout entire conversations and not bounce around like a hyperactive second grader. I want to have a nice laugh instead of a cackle that requires my jaw to unhinge from my face. I want to not interrupt anyone ever again simply because I'm in such a rush to agree with them. I want to control my hand movements and not spill or knock things over. I want to drink a martini while standing up.
But mostly, I want to just not be such a total fucking spazz all the time.
Is probably a lost cause, no?