So, for people who don’t read my column (I won’t hold it against you. You probably have better things to do)… there’s this guy, Calvin. He’s cute and he’s smart and he’s so so so funny, and as per usual this is a disaster of socially awkward proportions just waiting to happen.
I was eating in the dining hall the other day. I was reading a book, but I was thinking about some other stuff and my head was just totally in the clouds. You know the feeling. I know you do. Anyway, I went back up to grab a cookie when I ran into Calvin. He said, “Oh, hey Elodie.” Cue the adorable smile. Gah! So cute! I could keep gushing, but I’m trying to curb that kind of behavior. “How are you?”
And I just stared. For, like, half a second, but it still felt like EONS. And then? And then there was a beat of silence, and instead of maybe, I don’t know, responding like a normal person, I just babbled, “How are you?” I could’ve pulled it off by shrugging and then asking him how he was. I could’ve put some emphasis on the you (ergo… “How are you?”), which would sound like he was recovering from a family tragedy and I was concerned for his welfare, but it still would’ve been better than simply repeating the question like a robot. But no. I didn’t do any of those things. I just ignored him completely and said, “How are you?”
For a minute he just looked at me, like wasn’t sure what kind of conversational tango was at play here. Then he kind of chuckled. “I’m… good. Thanks for asking.”
I was flustered. I practically ran away, calling over my shoulder, “These cookies are delicious! SO delicious! You should get one! Better yet, get two! Seriously! Have some!” What was wrong with me? I sounded like a cookie pusher. A no-good cookie pusher. He kind of laughed, said politely, “I’ll have to come back and get one,” and off he went. I ate my cookie miserably and then jogged out of the dining hall. Ugh. UGH. Curse my inability to make casual conversation! Curse my sheltered upbringing!