I went out with my two guy friends the other day to see Mission: Impossible 3 (which, by the way, is directed by the uber-fabulous J.J. Abrams who writes and produces my most favorite makes-no-sense TV show, Alias, and thus can do no wrong by me, no matter who's cast in the lead role). Highly anticipated movie, great friends, awesome pre-movie trivia - this was gonna be one amazing let-your-hair-down kinda night. Speaking of letting my hair down, I looked disgusting - since I was pressing the 48-hour shower mark, my hair was overly greasy and I desperately needed to do laundry so I was wearing an outfit that didn't match in one bit - an ill-fitting purple almost-long sleeved shirt over jeans that I grew out of in the 8th grade. Just so you don't think my personal hygiene regime needs re-prioritizing - I was going to take a shower, but I couldn't because the shower system is so screwed up that instead of hot filtered water, you get ice-cold dirty polluted Lake Michigan water which probably would have made you even more dirty. Besides, I figured I was with my two guy friends of four years. They've already seen me at my worst (and as crazy as it might sound, yes, it could be worse). And it was a late-night Thursday viewing. Given how I know only nerds and study-aholics, it seemed highly improbable that any of my other friends would be out and about. Me and my greasy hair and wouldn't-be-caught-dead-in-except-when-you-have-nothing-else-to-wear outfit would be safe from any embarrassing run-ins.
Or so I thought. I should have thought about all the people who I definitely wouldn't want to run in to, and what they might be up to on a Thursday night, because remember this guy? My casual relationship guy? The one I've been trying so hard to avoid? Just as the lights dimmed and the previews started, he walked in with his own posse of male friends.
As I slouched farther down in my chair, they recognized my two guy friends and as they moved into the row right in front of us, turned around to say hello and give my friends the typical male-handshake/hug thing. Luckily, they didn't seem to see me, as I stared intently at the spilled popcorn on the floor, mentally berating myself for allowing myself to go out in public when I wasn't dressed to the nines. Thankfully the movie started.
When the credits started to roll, the guy and his friends got up to leave. Great, I thought, they'll leave now, and me and the boys can slink out afterwards. Only they were waiting outside to talk to my boys about Maggie Q's insanely gorgeous red dress (or rather, the body inside it). So as I walked out of the theater, there he was. We couldn't help but make eye contact, and I deliberately smiled at him, determined that my awkward days are long gone. Yet, instead of behaving maturely and smiling back and engaging in some pointless chitchat with me about the weather, he immediately dropped his eyes to stare at the floor. Muttering something about the bathroom to his friends, he took off.
My guy friends, popular boys that they are, managed to keep talking to these boys that they knew for a good fifteen minutes. Mind you, we were standing right next to the bathroom the whole time, and the guy never came back out. Finally, one of my boys finally recognized the awkwardness that could be, and came over and asked me if I wanted to leave. Nodding appreciatively at him, he yelled out to my other friend that we would be waiting by the car.
As we walked out the door, my friend looked at me, and trying to be comforting, said "Don't worry, you don't look that bad tonight."
During the course of the movie, I had completely forgotten what I looked like. It never fails - whenever I look my worst, I always run into the people I least want to see.
3 years ago
