Embarablast From the Past Episode #4: The Rejection

So usually my embarablasts are about things that I've done to embarass myself. Today's episode is about someone else's embarassment. Well, actually, I can't say whether the other individual was embarassed or not, but he should have been. In fact, he should have been downright ashamed.

Let me start out by saying that I'm pretty slow when it comes to guys "hitting on" me. Blame it on the fact that I was wearing coke bottle glasses from the age of six all the way up into my teenage years, or it could have been that even in childhood my hair was known to be unruly enough to eat small children (poor Timmy), or that I liked Star Trek instead of Beverly Hills 90210. Until I got contacts and learned the mystical secrets of hair gel (never did stop watching Star Trek--I'm awesome!), I was pretty much shunned by all members of the male species.

I had no concept of what it was like to be "hit on." In fact, even in college, one of my guy friends eventually had to clue me into the fact that someone was expressing interest in me. It wasn't someone I was interested in, so it didn't really matter. I just thought it was interesting that I was that oblivious. I just have little experience with getting "hit on," and it takes something BIG for me to "get it."

So a couple of years ago, the little girl I nannied for was still in preschool. I had to go pick her up in the afternoons. The preschool teacher was the sort who would keep her door closed and not open it until she was ready to let the kids out. So all the parents (and the socially awkward nanny) would stand outside the door waiting for the class to end.

I'd developed a routine of arriving a few minutes before the class was over. Some of the parents would stand around in the hallway and chat. Others, like me, were antisocial. We'd stand around staring at the random kid art on the walls. I must have looked at that same piece of macaroni art 200 times. I'm still not sure what it was supposed to be...

But for those of us who did not want to talk, we'd established an unspoken rule that we would continue not to speak to each other. We would not make eye contact. We would stay three to five feet away from each other's personal bubbles. That was the way things were.

Then came the day when I met Lack of Personal Boundaries Man. He came into the preschool hallway unobtrusively. In fact, I didn't even notice LoPB Man until I got the vibe that he was "checking me out." As I noted before, I'm really pretty oblivious to guys paying attention to me, so it had to be fairly overt for me to pick up on it.

Still, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, so I continued to stare at the macaroni art. It was then that LoPB Man proceeded to enter my personal bubble. He took one of those awkward side steps towards me and pretended to look at the macaroni art, as well.

According to the Unwritten Rules of Socially Awkward Ettiquette, when a person gets too close to my personal bubble, the correct procedure is to casually take a step away from the offender. I did this. I stepped casually away from LoPB Man and turned my attention to a kid drawing that looked like one of those aliens from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. I think it was supposed to be a cat.

Almost as soon as I had moved away from LoPB Man, LoPB Man decided to follow my lead. He stepped closer. I thought this must have been some kind of coincidence. LoPB Man was not following me. He just had a burning curiosity about cats that look like aliens. So, I decided I needed to take ANOTHER casual step away.

LoPB Man followed again.

I considered taking another causual step away, but I feared it would lead to a bizarre "casual step dance" around the preschool hallway. I'm a bad dancer. It would not have been pretty.

So I stood my ground, focusing my attention on a flyer that had been taped to the wall. I can't tell you what it said, because I wasn't really reading it. I was looking out of the corner of my eye towards LoPB Man. He was still standing way too close to me.

Then, inevitably, LoPB Man tapped me on the shoulder. I forced a smile and looked at him. "Excuse me," he said nervously. "I can't seem to remember the names of the preschool teachers in this class. Do you know what they are?"

I have a couple of reasons to believe that he was just trying to make conversation with me. He was making bad, incredibly awkward conversation, but it was conversation nonetheless. The first reason I believe he just wanted to talk to me was that there were SEVERAL other people standing around in that hallway he could have asked, if indeed he was actually trying to find out the names of the preschool teachers.

But the other reason I believe he was just trying to talk to me was because in BIG bold "Helen Keller could see them blindfolded" letters on the preschool door were the words, "Welcome to Miss Sue and Miss Jane's 4 Yr. Old Class."

"Their names are on the door," I pointed out. "Miss Sue and Miss Jane." I used a tone that indicated I really didn't want to talk to him...because I really DIDN'T want to talk to him.

"Oh," he said. "Sorry." He didn't look/sound embarassed. He looked/sounded dejected. He looked/sounded as though I'd just shot him down. And it had to be pretty clear for me to pick up on it, because I usually just don't get it when guys are interested.

Anyway, about that time, the door to the classroom opened and a little girl ran into LoPB Man's arms exclaiming, "DADDY!" And I just happened to look down at that point and notice that LoPB Man AKA DADDY! was definitely wearing a wedding band.

It amazes me that people like this can find other people who are willing to breed with them. He must have attracted MOMMY! with his wily awkward casual step dances and witty remarks. Hmm.

Note to potential suitors: If you DON'T want me to reject you, here's some helpful hints:

1. Don't follow me around hallways.
2. Come up with better pick up lines than "Can you tell me the names of my kid's preschool teachers?" or other things that make you sound like a lame parent/complete moron.
3. Don't be married.
4. Make sure I understand that you're actually interested, because chances are, I won't get it.
5. Be Scottish. It's not a requirement, but it definitely wouldn't hurt.