Perfect Timing

 Awkward is as Awkward does...

The occasional awkward situation is familiar for most and usually met with a laugh or strained silence. If you like to joke around, then those situations increase exponentially. Open mouth, insert foot, or in my case, shove the whole damn leg down there. Because after it becomes awkward, I make it more awkward by trying to explain the awkward thing I just said. 

Bravo! I'm bowing for a standing ovation while the crowd is fleeing for the doors. 

My handling of the awkward situation was much better when I was a kid. Standing there, looking stupid, and waiting for the moment to pass wasn't a bad strategy. I was a natural at the 'playing dumb' thing. 

Case in point, I was twelve and not at all interested in dating when a boy asked if I wanted to go with him. I replied, "Where?" The awkward situation was created and then promptly averted in a single word. 

That same year, a different boy insisted I play a horrendous game by the name of 'Kiss or Kill' --if you're caught, you can choose to be kissed or punched. My answer was to deliver a well-placed mule kick. Not a single word was spoken. Yes, he did apologize in a rather high-pitched voice-- bent over and clutching something sensitive. He never asked again. Awkward situation averted. Life was much easier when I was twelve.

When you live your life unfiltered, you will invariably get yourself into trouble. So, needless to say, I've had a lot of practice with awkward situations. 

Keep the conversation going way past its expiration date? Check 

Asking way too many personal questions? Ugh, yes. But it's not to be nosy. I've got this 'I genuinely care about people' thing that puts me square in the middle of Awkward Kingdom. If I could explain this inconvenient need to connect meaningfully with people, I could implement the superficial version with more success. But, if I was capable of acting more superficially... could I? Something tells me I might make that awkward, too.

The most frequent I just stepped in another awkward pile of, uh...muck, is when I go beyond the 'how are you doing today?' question. I realize this is a social nicety where we acknowledge each other in a more polite way than just saying 'hello'. Unfortunately for me, it opens up the proverbial can of worms, and I'm left standing there with the lid off. The worms are wiggling around inside, taunting me. How can I not pull one out? How do you ignore the urge to not share and stuff the lid back on? 

Cue the fumbling and the predictable outcome of spilling the worms all over the conveyor belt while the cashier attempts to ignore the mess. Okay, not entirely true. There are more friendly cashiers than not, and last week, one even gave me the recipe for dumplings. 

There's this idea that as you get older, you start to figure stuff out and get more comfortable in your own skin. I suppose that's true for some things, but so far I haven't worked out how to reverse the pole on the awkward magnet. 

And, if I'm honest, maybe I don't want to? After all, my awkwardness is a reminder that the little bratty troublemaker deep in my soul is alive and kicking.