Out-Awkwarded

I met my soulmate tonight, y’all.

It was magical.

It all started when I went to get my hair done.

I was supposed to be spending the money on new running shoes. But I can’t decide which shoes to buy. And I can definitely decide on which grey hair I don’t want.

So I just opted for some hair color.

Don’t tell K-Rob-D.

Anyway, my body is still pretty exhausted from last week. And I got to the hair salon a little early. So my girl says she’s gonna throw a free deep conditioner on my hair and let me recline while I wait for her to finish up with her other client.

I must have fell out immediately, because I was suddenly at the grocery store looking for hummus and it must have been a Tuesday because the place was swarming with elderlies and I just want to get my frozen black bean burgers to the car before they thaw and I can’t run when my cart gets a way from me and starts speeding towards the middle of 581 and I’m yelling “no!”

And that’s when I woke up. With a start. And what I assume was a pretty loud snore-snort. And a spastic little jump move.

So you can see how I was primed for an awkward exchange. And I’m already pretty well primed at all times anyway.

So my girl takes me over to her chair and goes to work covering my grey.

She asked what kind of product I use on my hair and I just kind of chuckled.

“Aw. I love you. No, I mean do you use gel or mousse?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

“Well, Steph, here’s what happens. There’s just a shit ton of half empty containers of all kinds of stuff in my bathroom cupboard. Most of it I didn’t even buy. I don’t even know where it came from. Or even if it’s really for hair. On those rare mornings when I even bother to wash my hair, I just stick my hand in there and whatever she brings back goes in my hair. And then I just wrap a hair tie around the beast and go on about my day.”

I think that may have been the point at which she finally realized that she wasn’t dealing with the classiest of women.

But I like to make it super clear.

So we’re talking about my desperate need for a hair cut. And as though just seeing the mess on my head wasn’t evidence enough for the world, I really tried to drive the point home by explaining how I’m a trail runner and ticks are particularly bad this year and those little bastards can get caught up in that mess and I may never find them but I’m sure I don’t have any bugs in my hair now because I do thorough searches regularly because you don’t want one of those things crawling up your hoo hah but I’ve never actually found one crawling up my hoo hah and…

And the entire time I can hear Rouge’s voice in my head saying, “just stop talking.”

But this beautiful woman, as if to say, “I’ll see your awkward conversation and raise you a completely inappropriate comment” said, “No I understand. I’m afraid of dicks.”

At which point she threw her hand over her mouth in an obvious attempt to get the words back in there.

“Oh honey. It’s ok. We’ve all been afraid of those at one point or another. Sometimes I still am.”

“I meant ticks. I’m afraid of ticks. Oh god.”

“Sure, those, too. I mean both can be pretty terrifying.”

“Oh I can’t believe I said that!”

“I think we might be soulmates. My handler has to tell me all the time to stop saying words.”

“Your handler?”

“I mean, my friend. Rogue. But she’s basically my handler. I can’t wait to tell her about this. It’s not often that someone out-awkwards me.”

“I hope nobody else heard me say that.”

“I probably won’t tell anybody…”

And that is my new favorite moment in history.

I have to go back Friday for the actual hair cutting part. Because money.

I just can’t wait.

I’m trying to think of other things I can talk about that rhyme with inappropriate topics…

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