The saddest part is, these all really happened.
8:00 AM: The alarm on my phone started going off. For some reason, my half-asleep brain thought it would be swell if my arm randomly shot up and hit my dresser, knocking my phone onto the floor. This resulted in my sister pulling her comforter over her head and calling me an idiot.
8:24 AM: I finally got out of bed. My entire lower body was numb from when I picked up my phone off the floor and was too lazy to move my upper body back into my bed. I resorted to flailing my legs around in an attempt to bring some feeling back to them. This resulted in my sister laughing at me.
8:30 AM: I stood in front of my bathroom mirror contemplating the logic behind taking a shower if I was just going to get my hair washed and cut at the salon at 9. What if the hairdresser feels my long gross hair and thinks I never shower? Is that what they’re even called still-“hairdressers”? It sounds like something my mom would say. Or that lady who sits behind us in church.
8:37 AM: I was still contemplating the shower/what a hairdresser is when I realized that I don’t know how much to tip the hairdresser/hairstylist/haircutter/beautician/hair cut lady. I decided against a shower and Googled how to tip the Lemon Tree hair cut lady instead. I did not find a definitive answer.
8:50 AM: I couldn’t decide what to do with my long gross hair. It was ridiculously long and unwashed. Even putting it in a bun made me look freakish. Wasn’t it only going to be in a bun for like a second anyway? I mean, the hair cut beautician person couldn’t wash it in a bun. I decided that the hair would stay down. Sorry to all those who crossed my tangled/oily path.
9:00 AM: I walked into the Lemon Tree and realized that I was the only one there. Nice. For the first time in my 20 years getting my hair cut at the Lemon Tree, there is a man behind the desk. He had frosted tips. He didn’t ask me what I was there for, so I stood a few feet away from the counter and said in kind of a pushy voice, “I’m here for a wash and cut”. I realized how bitchy I sounded, but there was nothing I could do to change the situation. I took off my coat and realized there were no hooks to hang it on, so I sat on it instead.
9:10 AM: The guy was elbow-deep in my scalp. He kept saying “you have a lot of hair”. He sounded like he was really exerting himself. I kept thinking about the tip thing. Not the frosted tips, but the money tip.
9:15 AM: I argued for approximately a solid minute with the guy over how many inches of hair I wanted him to cut off. I kept saying 4, and he kept shaking his head and saying, “No, only 1, only 1”. You’ll be proud to know that I stuck to my guns. I deducted 1 dollar from the unknown tip amount, however.
9:16 AM: He made me stand up while he cut my hair. This was highly irregular, but I didn’t complain. I decided that I would do anything if it meant getting out of there alive.
9:30 AM: The time had come. I fumbled with my wallet for a twenty while he sat and stared at me. I practically threw it at him. The seconds ticked by in slow-motion as I tried to figure out what to tip him. I could feel my face getting red. Then, salvation: three dollar bills fell out of my wallet and onto the ground. I grabbed them, threw them onto the counter, and croaked out, “THIS IS FOR YOU, THANKS SO MUCH, BYE.” He said it was a pleasure to meet me. I wish I had given him four dollars instead, but whatever.
9: 45 AM: I underestimated how far I was from my driveway when I attempted to back in. A jogger and an elderly couple walking a dog stared as I attempted to navigate my car off my front lawn and onto my driveway. Even the dog looked at me with pity in his eyes.
11: 30 AM: My sister and I went out to run errands. There was construction on our street. A cop holding a stop sign stood up ahead, wearing a menacing frown and a huge cop hat. It is a very narrow street, and I pulled over to allow the car coming towards me to wind their way around the construction trucks. The cop did not like this. She waved me over and rolled her eyes. Another car came towards me, but it was my turn to go. I started to slowly roll forward past the cop when she waved the sign wildly and looked at me like I was an idiot. Panicking, I stopped abruptly, waiting for the car coming towards me to get past me so it was clear for me to go. But the car didn’t move. The cop lady started waving her arms wildly again. My sister told me to just go. So I did. I wanted to see if the cop lady looked angry, but it was hard to tell from my rear-view mirror.
11:50 AM: The bank people spent five minutes assessing the similarities between my sister and I. This is not uncommon. We tried to explain that this is how identical twins work, but they didn’t listen to us. Finally, they gave us our money and we left, but not before my sister accidentally pulled on the door instead of pushing. At least it’s not just me.
12:06 PM: After making a fool of myself in the Target parking lot, I realized that most of my awkwardness happens while driving. This is not okay. I’ve never been more happy to go into a Target.
12:22 PM: My sister randomly pulled me into an aisle and informed me that she had just seen a girl she once disliked in High School looking at yogurt. We then spent the rest of our time in Target avoiding this girl, who has most likely mellowed out by now anyway and was probs wondering why the weird twins she went to high school with were so engrossed in plastic ladles.
12:38 PM: I attempted to navigate myself through the self-checkout. My sister abandoned me because I was such an embarrassment. A woman waiting in line behind me slowly crept closer and closer to me. She had puffy gray hair and lots of cat food. I fumbled once again with my wallet as I pulled out the money. I remembered why I hate self-checkouts. On our way out, I said very loudly, “That woman was really up my butt” just in time to see the girl we were avoiding give us a disgusted look from a nearby self-checkout. Whatever-it’s not like we liked her, anyway.
12:56: We decided to get Starbucks as a reward for making it through so many social interactions. An old friend from high school was working behind the counter. I stuttered with my order and then asked her how her experience studying abroad in Ireland was. She talked about it as if it was NBD, traveling the world and stuff, and then asked me what I was doing. I said “nothing”, which isn’t even the truth, so I have no idea why I said it. I tried to cover up my pathetic-ness by saying “I go to school upstate now, I’m studying English and creative writing, it’s far away but it’s a nice change, heenuuuaaahahaha”. I quickly realized I had given her too much information, so I continued the conversation for another thirty seconds before grabbing my tea and hightailing it out of there, with my sister at my heels. Whatever-it’s not like I’ll see her again anytime soon, anyway.
I’m home now, guys, which is probably best for the sake of myself and society. It’s not like I can be an awkward mess while sitting in sweatpants watching Gilmore Girls, right? Right.
So, do you guys ever have awkward moments? Mine seem to come in waves: some days, I feel like a social rock star, and other days…not so much. How do you guys deal with social anxiety/awkwardness? Let me know in the comments!
Note-I’m actually going out to dinner with some friends later, so wish me luck on getting through it without looking like too much of a spaz!