It’s been a bit of a crazy week in the life, mostly due to my own retardedness. In the interest of not airing my dirty laundry on the innanets, and because I’m more than very against emo-blog nonsense, I’ll put the feelings aside and share something of the more entertaining events of late…
Let me start by saying that the whole French business of kisses and bisou-ing can make mistaking a stranger for someone you think you know an even more awkward experience than it already is…
For example, let’s paint a hypothetical picture.
Say you have a game at home last Saturday night. Let’s also say you borrowed a guitar from one of the team supporters at the beginning of the season. Upon picking up said gat back in September, you and The American met his teenage son. This son has quite a distinct look and very piercing blue eyes so overall he isn’t someone you think you’d mistake for someone else anytime soon…
Fast-forwarding back to last week, you are talking to some people after the game and mingling with the locals, if you will. You see son-of-guitar-man standing a few feet away, seemingly looking expectantly in your and The American’s direction, so you smile and wave all friendly-like. A few minutes later, he’s still standing there with his buddies, still looking in your direction so you figure you should probably go actually say hi but don’t want to go alone. You go grab The American from the locker room and proceed to stroll on up to guitar son to give him bisous and wave to his friends (these details become important later…).
Guitar son seems a little confused and asks if you were waiting for him to which you say, “umm, not really…? Weren’t you waiting for us?”. He says yes and you explain that The American would say more but she still doesn’t speak much French since you saw her last. You exchange a few more pleasantries about the match before he asks, in parting, if you’re going out that night and maybe you’ll see each other later.
Nice to see him, you think, and look how nice and friendly we are, saying hello and such.
Writing like that is getting annoying.
A few days later, The American and I are added on Facebook by a kid that looks like guitar son but has another name. I figure he must just be rollin’ with a fake name, especially because his last name is clearly not a real French one. I accept his friend request and he says hi on chat, asks how our week is going, etc. He says he was pretty surprised we came up to him but pleasantly so. He asks if we “usually do that” and I was like, yeah sure, we’re nice like that…? (What is this kid talking about…?). He says he was actually waiting for his gym teacher that was standing behind us but it was nice to say hi. The conversation continues like this and little by little, I become more and more horrified. I slowly begin to realize that this kid is NOT who we thought he was. This is not guitar son but some rando high school kid that thought it’s his lucky week… Snaaaaap. So let’s go back and review the details from his perspective…
You go to a volleyball game with some friends. After, you’re on the court, patiently waiting for your teacher to roll out. Out of nowhere, one of the players smile and waves in your (and only your) direction. A few minutes later, she rolls up with one of the other team members and gives you (and once again, only you) bisous and chat with ya while your friends look on, thinking, wow what a baller. Later they both add you on facebook and talk to you like they know you. Secretely, THEY THINK YOU’RE SOMEONE ELSE but can’t tell you now, like a week later
So wow. Not only did I think you were someone else but only in this country of unnecessary kissing and such, would it be taken to this level of awkwardness. Note to self, make sure you know who people are before you accidentally make their day… Oh man, the awkwardness.
Always moving. Sometimes backwards.
And this goes without saying, but I reeeeally hope we don’t see the kid this weekend or the charade has to continue…
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