I was invited this evening to see a reading of two plays in progress by a former classmate whom I haven't seen or talked to in over 2 years. The plays were great; lots of really good material that made me terribly jealous.
But I had my own little scene, too, when I first spoke to my classmate. I call it "Socially Awkward, #3247".
Enter Me. Just next to the door stands Her, welcoming everyone as they enter the reading room.
Her: Hi!
Me and Her embrace.
Me: Thanks for inviting me!
Her: Thanks for coming! It's great to see you!
Me: You, too! You, too. I can't wait to see your shows.
Her: Thanks. I can't wait for you to see them!
Pause.
Me: So, how have you been?
Her: I'm good, I'm good. How are you?
Me: Oh, good, good.
Pause.
Me: I can't wait to see your work.
Her: Yeah, me neither. I look forward to hearing what you think.
Longer, horror-filled pause.
Her: How's Fr. O'Hare??
Me (desperately relieved): Oh, he's good. He's good. Still thick with that Irish charm.
Beat.
Me: He could talk water from a stone! (Internal Monologue: What the heck are you saying?)
Her smiles.
A long pause.
Me: I can't wait to see your work.
Her: Yeah, I can't wait for you to see it.
Me scuttles off to beat himself senseless in whatever corner he can find. Her breathes a great sigh of relief.
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