Last October, my friends and I decided to go out for dinner at a delicious restaurant called Late Harvest Kitchen.
The waiter caught my eye as he came over to our table. Like, in a good way that made me blush. 😳
We started chatting.
“I feel like I know you,” he said.
“I feel like I know you, too,” I said, trying to figure out if we were just feeding each other flirty lines, or if we did, in fact, actually know each other.
We began to ask each other questions to determine if we had indeed met before. One of the questions I asked him was for his full name. Cause, you know, I’m super nosey like that.
“John David O’Connell,” (name has been changed of course) he said.
We talked a bit further, and then he walked away from the table. When he was gone, I asked my friend, Terra, “What did he say his name was again?”
“John David O’Connell,” she said.
“Good job,” I said, thankful that my friends have minds like steel traps.
I got out my phone to look him up on Facebook to see if we, indeed, do, know each other through mutual friends, you know? As I’m pulling up his profile and I see that we don’t, John David suddenly appeared, hovering over my shoulder.
“Aahh!!” I yelled, throwing my phone across the table at my friends.
“Don’t worry,” John David said. “I didn’t see anything,” he said. “Anything, that is, except for you looking at my Facebook page.”
“Oh my God! I’m so embarrassed! 😱😰” I said, covering my face with my hands. I now was apologizing to my friends for hitting them with my phone, while simulataneously over-explaining my reasoning to John David for why I was looking him up on Facebook.
Thankfully, my friends know me and understood that my phone throwing was a knee jerk reaction. Surprisingly though, John David seemed flattered that I was looking him up on FB.
“You know, ” he said. “You should send me a friend request instead of just looking.”
And so I did. And we continued to talk. However, we discovered we were, in fact, not a match, and pleasantly parted ways.
But there was a reason for that interaction. That interaction was a reminder to me that there is no one else in this world like me. Just like there is no one just like you. And we have to just keep on being ourselves and having compassion for ourselves, even when we do ridiculous things. John David, in fact, seemed to find my ridiculousness endearing for some reason. Maybe because he somehow knew I was being the unadulterated version of myself.
However, the story doesn’t end there. Yesterday, I saw my dear friend from college, Patty, at brunch. We were talking about embarrassing moments or something like that, and I brought up this story. As I was retelling it, I got SO into it that I, without thinking, began to actually act out the story. When I got to the part about me throwing my cell phone across the table, I–you guessed it–threw my cell phone across the table. Only this time, instead of hitting my friend with it, it hit the lady at the table next to me, and was traveling at such a high velocity that it bounced off her and hit her husband across the table.
“I…am so…sorry,” I said to them. “I was, um, retelling a story and I guess I was acting it out as well.”
“Yeah,” the husband said, straight faced, “I know. I feel like I was just there.”
Luckily his wife found it to be funny.
I am Emily. I am a quirky, moderately loud, storytelling, nosey nerd. And that is my power.