Sunday, 17 June 2012

The awkward “I know you from somewhere, but I’m not going to say anything unless you say something” look.


(A record of [largely fictional] thoughts depicting an actual event):

July 17, 2012

4:10pm:
Shopping is boring. I don’t like shopping. But it’s winter, and I need warm clothes. Plus I’m with a friend, which makes it less boring.

4:14pm:
This mall is long. I'm bored. I want to play video games. Wait, is that… Hmm, the middle-aged stocky man advancing towards me - I think I know him. Yes! But from where? Church? Nope. Uni? Nup. Culprit who threw a rock at my windscreen last Wednesday except without the hood? Doubt it. Then… who?

4:14pm and 4 seconds:
Rats; he’s seen me seeing him, and I can’t hide. Curse my tallness! And I still haven’t matched face to event. Jog faster, long term memory! Who is this mystery man?

Half a second later (Time slows down when you're placed on the pedestal of awkward):
I know. I’ll look away and pretend he’s just another random, which, for all I can be sure, is all he is. Yeah.

At the onset of the following second:
He’s still staring at me. Weird. He’s more than surpassed the suitable length of time it takes to glance at an individual in order to perceive one’s immediate surroundings. He’s verging on creep. Or perhaps he longs for verbal recognition, to feel a sense of worth. Mind you, his eyes are big, almost… criminal. Wait, he is the hooded rock-thrower who’s since de-hooded himself, isn’t he? Is he sizing me up? I could take him.

A single step in his direction later:
The windscreen incident was a dream. Quit thinking it was real. Time for plan B: express a half-smile that satisfies both possible outcomes. If he’s a complete random as the case may well be, then I’ll look like no more than someone whom everyone would jump at the chance to befriend. Conversely, if he’s indeed someone I’m recognising from an unspecified event in my exciting life, then my smile could be interpreted as one of acknowledgement, saying,

“My dear gentleman, 

Indeed, ‘gentleman’ is all I can offer you, for as of yet I don’t know your true name, or even where I’ve seen you before. Ho ho ho; you’re probably in the same boat, old duck, thinking to yourself as we pass, with nary a handshake, ‘What name do I give to this familiar face, which seeks to appease my poor recollection with a friendly widening of cheeks?’ And appease I shall, in the manner you’ve just reflected, in fact. Though, my cheeks are only so wide so that if you are not the man that my brain insists I vaguely envision, then you won’t think me a ‘weirdo’, as it were. Indeed, I am more socially savvy than I care to let on.  As such, there’s no use in verbal appreciation of our coincidental intersect in the, though it be somewhat verbose to say, intersecting roads of life. You’re busy; I’m busy. You’re white; I’m half brown. Blimey! The conversation would be an effort, to put it lightly. So, mister Bloggs, if you are whom I think you are, then don’t get miffed. Instead, return the smile, that is, if you recognise my half-smile as the smile it’s half-daring to be. But, regardless, I do indeed wish you the best in all your future endeavors. 

God save the queen!”

He skirts between friend and me:
Jogging partner? Nope, I don’t jog; generic yet recurring passer-by? no sir; past life? Aha! He goes to my old church! Well, that wasn’t so hard. Hmm, perhaps I should’ve said-

Simultaneously, I walk past Robert Harris:
CAKE!

2 comments:

  1. that's what phones are for. You pretend to send a text til you're past them, problem solved! If they know you well enough and want to talk they'll say something :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Meh. I realise there's no obligation to talk, but these situations are always a tad odd. My feelings are semi-guilty, like they're looking at me in expectation that I'll initiate a conversation. And then they're gone and I'm like "Good" ha ha. Ultimately it doesn't matter; it was just something to write about :P.

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