I Appreciate the Compliment, But...

Recently, I received the compliment of some romantic interest from someone ten years younger than me.

Now don't turn into my mother and tell me about all the people you know who are perfectly happy with someone a decade younger. First, I didn't say this lad was interested in a relationship with me. Second, I didn't say I was interested in a relationship.

I could tell you how I met him but it doesn't matter. It was in a group setting, there was food involved, I happened to sit next to him and conversation ensued. I'll admit I enjoyed the conversation. We even stumbled upon the topic of religion, usually off-limits for me, initially. But even that was interesting and compatible enough. Enough such that I was beginning to think, "Hmm... should I reconsider my "stance" on age?"

I know I'm out of practice on this sort of thing, but this guy told me, "You're the most interesting person I've met in the last five years," as well, "I would guess that you've always been with guys who are into breasts. I mean, look at yours - they're huge!"

Maybe I lost track of the number of glasses of wine he had.

Don't get me wrong. I am flattered that I am, or that at least parts of me are considered attractive. Perhaps I underestimate the difficulty of telling a woman that she is attractive without objectifying her after only knowing her for two hours.

For the record, I believe my stance remains. But I appreciate the compliment, Ken. I think...

Caption Comment

When I shared that a few people told me I kind of look like Alan Alda, among the comments made in response to that post was a suggestion that I post a picture of myself so people could decide for themselves whether or not I have any resemblence to Alan Alda.

Well, this image serves a few purposes.

1) It is a picture of me. Awkward as it may be, I'm the one wearing the mask.

2) Isn't it fun to look at pictures like this? Images from an era long since past - thankfully!

3) I was thinking it might be fun to see what, if any, captions or explanations people can coin for this photo.

So, there ya go.

Proscuitto or Ginger? You decide.

In the past, I had a tendency to assume most people were smarter than me. I think this is due at least in part to being the youngest child in a family of bright people. You know how it goes... Never getting to be the first to do something, you're always compared to the Brainiac and the PhD. And even when you find your own niche, the Brainiac or the PhD decides to dabble a little in the area you thought you'd scoped out for yourself - a completely legitimate thing for the Brainiac and the PhD to do, mind you - and everyone thinks it's absolutely fabulous that the Brainiac and the PhD can be so brilliant and SO well-rounded. Blah blah blah. Meanwhile, the youngest is always assumed to have it SO MUCH easier because it is ASSUMED that the parents are easier on the youngest when in fact, that is not always the case... Waa waa, I know. Life was so hard for me.

Hmmm. I wasn't planning on venting about birth order. My point was going to be that my dear friend Patrice continues to drill into my head that, in fact, I am actually quite bright despite my cluelessness about my own intellect. But whatever. (It is frankly a bit embarrassing that I even need the affirmation this far into adulthood, but I digress.)

The previous paragraph is simply an attempt to qualify the story I'm about to share, of course. It is a preemptive defense because it's Tuesday which means I'm participating in Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays. Come to think of it, any Totally Awkward Tuesday post could've/should've carried that qualifying paragraph. Huh. Oh well.

So, it was the first time I had sushi. Well, actually, no. It was the second time I had sushi. No, no, no. It was actually the THIRD time I had sushi.

The first time I had sushi was in LA about 20 years ago and while I find it hard to believe NOW, I didn't like it then. So...

The second time I had sushi was in Chicago about 3 years ago. I was out to lunch with two of my favorite people - Scarecrow and Sandy. Scarecrow (yes, that's my name for her) and Sandy ordered sushi and since my memory was that I didn't like sushi, I ordered some curry dish. I like curry but this particular entree was, well, not very good. (Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have expected a curry dish from a sushi restaurant to be satisfying but whatever.) So Scarecrow and Sandy let me try their sushi. Much to my surprise, I thought it was delicious and expressed remorse about having ordered the dissatisfying curry dish and tried very, very hard not to eat too much of the sushi that Scarecrow and Sandy had ordered.

So, the THIRD time I had sushi, Sandy and I went back to the same restaurant where I had ordered the dissatisfying curry dish. Of course THIS time I ordered sushi. Mmmmm... yummy. Delicious. I thought it was odd that there was a side of prosciutto but whatever. I used my chopsticks and picked up one of the pieces and plopped the whole thing into my mouth.

Now, if I'd taken even a moment to think (a common theme in most of my awkward moments), it probably would've occurred to me that it wouldn't make any sense that there would be prosciutto (an Italian dry-cured ham) as a side for sushi (a Japanese cuisine). But, like I said, I didn't take that moment to think. Instead, I experienced an immediate and overwhelming burst of ginger in my mouth.

Sandy looked at me and smiled. She said, "That's ginger."

I nodded, my mouth stuffed full of previously-perceived-prosciutto-now-fully-understood-to-be-ginger.

She said, "You can spit it out into your napkin if you like."

I did.

We both laughed. Hard. And still laugh about it today, particularly every time we have or even talk about sushi.

In my defense... at the beginning of this post, I included a picture of prosciutto. Here now, I offer a picture of ginger:

Don't they look similar? Well, they sure did to me.

Always Get the Rental Car Insurance

The internet is fascinating. It puts you in touch with people you might otherwise not have any way of contacting. That's not any profound new thought or anything, of course. All sorts of people have written all sorts of articles about the phenomena of on-line networking and it's, um, consequences.

So, you know, I re-connected with someone I knew but hadn't seen in... at least 5 years. The short story is, despite not living near each other, we eventually met for dinner. (It's Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday so that may foreshadow where this story is headed...)

Since I hadn't seen him in over 5 years, I wondered how I might feel when I saw him. Would I be attracted to him??? He wanted to pick me up and drive to the restaurant together. There were a few reasons I wasn't comfortable with that. First, I'm extremely choosy about who gets to meet my daughter. Second, I had reason to be cautious about him. That's all I'll say. Third, I'm extremely choosy about who gets to meet my daughter. Right. Seriously. It doesn't even have to be in some sort of formal "Hey, this is a significant moment and I plan on being a significant part of your mother's life" or anything. Just even getting to see my daughter is, well, something about which I'm very protective. (Gotta love paranoia.) So, we met at the restaurant. It was within walking distance of my house and he would drive in from where he was coming.

He was late. In his defense, he isn't from the area. In fact he was even driving a rental car that night. He did call the restaurant to get a message to me that though he was late he was on his way. I cut him some slack and went and got myself a drink at the bar. Once he arrived, I knew as soon as I saw him. It... wasn't there. This would be dinner with a FRIEND.

Interestingly, I was so relieved. We conversed over dinner about books, philosophy, theology... but he seemed nervous to me. Granted, I considered that perhaps he just had a nervous energy about him which I'd never had much of an opportunity to see. But, there was also a part of me that was concerned that maybe he seemed nervous because, well... maybe he liked me. I decided not to pay that any attention. That was, after all, my m.o. at that time - to dismiss thoughts like that.

I let him give me a ride home. It had become dark and it seemed polite to let him extend this gesture. He pulled all the way into the back of my driveway. Usually, I stay outside as people back out of my driveway - especially due to the tricky curve to the back part of the driveway. But, for whatever reason, I immediately went inside.

No sooner did I get into my kitchen than I heard a very loud "WHAM!"

I went back outside and saw that he had not navigated that tricky curve in the driveway and had backed into the corner of my house!

"Oh my gosh! Are you ok?" I asked.
"Yeah... just a little embarrassed, of course," he answered.
"Well that'll teach ya!" I joked. (Honestly, I didn't even know what I meant by that. I mean, I think know what I meant, but if I meant what I think I did, I can't believe I said it.)
The tail-light of his rental car was completely smashed out and there was a large gouge on the back door and rear bumper.
"You got the rental insurance on the car, right?" I asked.
"No...." he sighed.

He insisted everything would be fine. I made sure he got out of my driveway without running into the fence or the neighbors house. I waved good-bye, went back inside and... promptly called one of my best friends and relayed the whole story to her. (She and her teenage daughter seemed to get a good chuckle about it.)

Fortunately, there wasn't any damage to the house. A small piece of siding on the corner fell off. That was about it. But it sure makes for a good lesson: always get the rental car insurance, right?!

Doesn't She Kinda Look Like... Alan Alda?

For some reason, in a previous professional life, a colleague (we'll call him Elvis) told me that he thought I kinda looked like... Alan Alda. Now, to be clear, I know he was talking about the Mash-era Alan Alda, not the white-haired, documentary-making Alan Alda. (No offense, of course, Alan.) In Elvis' defense, I did have shorter hair that was longer on top so it would often flop in my face. And I was kinda lanky given I was both slim and not short. And, I was (and still am) kinda goofy. I think Elvis meant it as a compliment to my sense of humor. But, you know, I'm of the opinion that telling a woman that she kinda reminds you of a man? Unless you're telling her that she reminds you of Albert Einstein or Mohandas Gandhi or something, I don't think she generally receives it as a compliment. Even then, if you tell her she LOOKS like Albert Einstein or Mohandas Gandhi? Not likely to take it as a compliment. But I digress. Let's get back to the point of this story...

...It's Tuesday so I'm participating in Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday.

Years ago, during this previous professional life, a bunch of us decided to go out for drinks and play pool one night after work. As some of us were getting out of my car, a couple of men approached us asking us for money. I had become accustomed to this and had developed a "policy" that I don't hand out money. I would, however, get a sandwich or something if I had the time. (Sometimes, people are not interested in food. Sometimes, people only want the money.) So when these two men approached us, I asked my friends - Paul and Noel - if they minded if I took a few minutes to get these two guys something to eat. Neither or them minded and Paul actually came with me as I walked across the street with the two men. We went into to a Subway sandwich shop and I encouraged the two men to get whatever they wanted.

While they were dictating what toppings they wanted on their sandwiches, I took care of paying the cashier. As I was getting my change from the cashier, I thought I heard one man say to the other, "Doesn't she kinda look like Alan Alda?"

Shocked, I turned to the one who had just spoken (wide-eyed, no doubt) and asked in a most accusatory tone, "What did you just say?!" I saw that my reaction seemed to concern the man so I assured him, "I'm not mad. I just want to know what you said."

The man replied, "Uh... I said... I... thought... you... kinda look like... Alan Alda?"

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed in the middle of the Subway sandwich shop. I couldn't believe it. Could NOT believe it. I confess I was even thinking, "Two BUMS OFF THE STREET think I look like Alan Alda?!"

I finished up with the cashier and the two men thanked me for my charity. We parted ways as Paul and I re-connected with Noel and the others - including Elvis- at the bar. I began telling Elvis about how these two strangers - literally bums off the street - said that THEY thought I looked kinda like Alan Alda. I was still dumb-founded.

As I was telling this story, Paul interjected, "Hey Judi? Uh, I told him to say that."

"Huh?" I said, perplexed.

Paul repeated, "I pulled those two men aside and told them to say that you kinda look like Alan Alda."

It was one of those moments where everything feels like it's moving through molasses. And you don't have anything to say because - what is there to say? I don't even remember what I said. I felt dumb. Humiliated even. Paul just grinned. He grinned that evil "I-just-got-you-good-didn't-I?" kinda grin.

(Last week, a few people sympathized with Paul and the awkwardness of The Winter Solstice Party we attended together. Obviously, Paul was more than able to fend for himself. And I'd say he certainly "got me back.")

Oddly enough, a few weeks later, a DIFFERENT colleague from a different department, Joe, asked me, "Hey, has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like Alan Alda?"

I immediately bristled and said sarcastically, "Oh, that's REALLY funny, Joe."

Joe looked at me, confused.

I said, "Paul told you to say that, didn't he? HA HA. Yeah, REALLY funny."

Joe eventually walked away, bewildered, as if I'd hurt his feelings.

Later on, I told Paul about Joe's comment and that I wasn't falling for any more of his pranks. The problem was, Paul hadn't told Joe to say that to me. !!!

So, not only had I alienated Joe, apparently there was ANOTHER person in the world who thought I kinda look like Alan Alda?!

The Winter Solstice Party

Solstice parties are fun. The first one I attended was like any other party - food, drinks, music, people, etc. It was basically a party with the excuse that we, as people who live in the northern hemisphere, were all gathering to celebrate that the amount of sunlight would INCREASE for the next six months.

So, when I was invited to my next Solstice party, I assumed (never a good sign) that it would be similar. This party was being given by a different host, however - Carol. And Carol happened to make her living as a life coach. But now I'm getting ahead of myself...

(Let me interject that it is Tuesday and therefore I am participating in Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday tradition.)

Around the same time, I was mildly interested in this guy Paul. We went out once but... I had a feeling we weren't very compatible. (I would later discover I was right, but that's not part of this story.) I was, however, willing to give it another shot. Or at least another date. He asked if we could go out again and I suggested he come with me to a Winter Solstice party. He raised an eyebrow at the "winter solstice" portion but I assured him it was just like any other party and that the "winter solstice" part was merely the occasion/excuse to have a party. So he agreed.

Carol said the party started at 7:30pm but I assumed (never a good sign) that meant arriving any time AFTER 7:30pm would be acceptable. Paul and I arrived at Carol's house around 8:30pm and discovered about 6-8 other people, including Carol. Apparently, I'd been invited to a small and intimate soiree. Woops...

Now, it might be helpful context to mention that one of the reasons I didn't think this guy Paul and I were compatible was because he didn't seem all that introspective. At least, he didn't (or couldn't) verbalize his introspection, if it was there. And, perhaps more importantly, he didn't seem to appreciate my interest in being introspective about life. He was fun, however, so I figured going to a party together was "safe." No need for deep thinking or sharing our inner most thoughts.

So imagine my surprise when I discovered that while there was food, wine and music... this was not just like any other party. There were various solstice-celebrating activities Carol had coordinated. Painting, candle-globe-making, some group knitting project... I was dumbfounded. Carol handled our late arrival with grace and immediately incorporated us into the activities.

I was thinking, "I can't believe I brought Paul to this party."

Toward the end of the evening, Carol had us all gather in her living room. We all stood quietly in a circle and she lit a candle. Since we had gathered to acknowledge and celebrate the increasing presence of light (the practical function of the winter solstice) she asked us all to think about the ways that we bring light into the lives of others. It was quiet for a few minutes and then she shared that she felt she brings light into the lives of others by helping people find their own light. (She is a life-coach, after all.) She passed the candle to her fiance' and he began to share how he felt he brings light into the lives of other people.

At this point, I was having a hard time paying attention. I was thinking, "I can NOT believe I brought PAUL to this party!"

When Carol's fiance' was finished, he passed the candle to Paul. I heard him say something about bringing light into the lives of others through his humor and then he quickly passed the candle to me. I was desperately trying to focus and get myself back into the moment but I was also doing everything I could to prevent myself from laughing. The fact that Paul was participating in this, I guess, was uncomfortable or at least humorous to me. Rather than laugh, however, I assumed (never a good sign) that exhaling a laugh out of my nose would be, well, more... discreet. I had to find some way to satisfy the overwhelming physical urge I had to laugh. And come on, you know what I'm talking about. When you quietly breathe out your nose as a way of almost silently laughing? Well, exhaling out of my nose DID satisfy my overwhelming physical urge to laugh. It also BLEW OUT THE CANDLE I was holding in front of me (and directly under my nose)! I hated to think what that meant about me and bringing light into the lives of others - apparently I had the ability to snuff the shared light out of the group!

Carol smiled and re-lit the candle.

I spent the rest of the night "waiting to exhale."

The Parking Lot Attendant

It's Tuesday, so I'm participating in Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday.

We were visiting Chicago - the college improv team, of which I was a part - so we could go see performances at places like IO! and Second City. I was driving the 15-passenger van and we needed to park it so we could go enjoy a show. We stopped at a pay-to-park lot and the man who came out to greet us had a thick middle-eastern accent of some kind. I rolled down the window to speak with him.

He said, "You geev me kees I park de car."

I crinkled my forehead, confused for a few seconds.

Then he said, again, ""You geev me kees I park de car.

I couldn't wrap my mind around this.

Finally, I said, "Uh... you want me to give you a kiss?"

It wasn't that I wanted to kiss this man. I was just thinking, "Is this what we're gonna have to do to park the van and make our show on time?"

Obviously, everyone in the van AND the parking lot attendant explained that really, all I needed to do was give him the KEYS to the van.

(The thickness of his accent had made "You give me keys, I park the car" into "You give me kiss, I park the car.")

This was a source of much laughter for the rest of the trip.

The Totally Awkward Wedding Reception

(Today is Tuesday so I will, once again, participate in Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday tradition. This post is lengthy, sorry, but includes one of my most embarrassing moments EVER.)

My senior year in college, my good friends Susan and Bob asked me and Terrance if we would emcee their wedding reception. Terrance and I weren't dating or anything but we had been performing on the same improv team for a few years. And we were both good friends of Susan and Bob so, of course, we both agreed.

No Bridezilla in this mix, let me assure you. This would be a modest event - your typical church basement reception. You know - no drinking or dancing and plenty of ham and cheese rolls. (For what it's worth, this denomination has come a long way. People weren't even allowed to go to the movies when my father attended my Alma Mater whereas I was finishing up my minor in film studies.)

When Bob and Susan got married, it was trendy to get the bride and groom to kiss by doing something OTHER than using your spoon to clink on the glassware. Or at least, it was important to Bob and Susan that people do something other than bang their spoons on their glasses. Some common alternatives I had seen at that time included putting money into a basket after which the bride and groom would kiss (the money would ultimately be given to the bride and groom, of course), getting your table to sing at least 4 lines from a song that had the word "love" in it (this one often made me feel embarrassed for people who couldn't sing), and then there was getting a couple to stand up and kiss each other -- after which the bride and groom attempt to imitate the couple's kiss. The more dramatic the better, apparently.

It was this last one that I'd never seen done before but Petra, one of our roommates, assured me she'd just served as an MC at a wedding reception and that this "game" had gone over beautifully. So, upon Petra's urging, I added the "get couples to kiss to get the bride and groom to kiss" activity to the list of things to do at Bob and Susan's reception.

The preparation was simple enough.
- Write numbers on the back of each person's place card.
- At the reception, explain that a random number would be called.
- Explain that if you're number was called, you were to kiss your mate/date and then the bride and groom would kiss each other, imitating you and the kiss you had just given your mate/date.

Terrance and I sat at a table close to the head table so we had easy access to the podium. Bob and Susan put many of our friends at our table so we didn't get stuck sitting with people we didn't know. Our friend Jim noticed a number on the back of his place card and said, "What's this? I hope it isn't for one of those stupid wedding reception games..."

I smiled nervously and tried to dismiss his comment. "I don't know. I guess you'll have to wait and see."

Once people had their fill of luncheon meats and potato salad, Terrance and I assumed our positions and began letting people know how the afternoon would likely proceed. You know - where to put your gifts if you hadn't already, where you could make an extra gift (of cash) to go to the bride and groom's honeymoon, etc.

Then I explained that Bob and Susan requested we NOT use our silverware to clink on our glassware to get them to kiss. Instead, there were a few different ways to get them to show off their affection for one another. I felt a little sheepish about this given the way I'd avoided Jim's question earlier but, you know, the show must go on. So, I started to explain that everyone had a number on the back of their place card, a random number would be called and if you're number was called, kiss your mate/date and then the bride and groom would kiss each other, blah blah blah.
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It's probably important to note that not only was I not married at this time, I wasn't dating anyone and wasn't thinking of ever getting married. I wasn't uncomfortable about that but I was aware that there were other people at the reception who, like me, were not accompanied by a date. I was sensitive to that, so...
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I added, "And if you're not sure who to kiss, well, you know, this could be your opportunity to let someone know that you think they're special or something." This last was said, of course, light-heartedly, simply to help single-folks feel a little more at ease.

I remember the first number I called because I picked a number based on when my sister was born. "62?" I called out. "One of my sisters was born in 1962..." Wouldn't you know it? It was Jim's number. Jim, the guy who had said, "I hope it isn't for one of those stupid wedding reception games."

Jim came up to the podium. Our friends were all laughing. Jim did not look amused. I reiterated how this was supposed to work and Jim continued to stand there. Jim's fiance' was sitting at our table. I was wondering what the problem was. How difficult could it be to simply go back to our table, give her a kiss and let Bob and Susan move on with their kissing? I sort of motioned toward Madeline with my hand, raised my eyebrows and said, "Well...?"

And then, as if people's thoughts didn't need to be verbalized but instead bubbled out of their heads and bumped into you, I suddenly SAW what Jim was thinking. My smile quickly faded as... Jim leaned in and planted one right on MY lips.

If you think our friends were laughing before, you should've heard the uproar now. I was totally embarrassed. So much for Terrance's help and support - he was also laughing. Everyone was laughing. Well, everyone except me, of course. I was wearing a fuchsia dress and my face flushed to match. Bob and Susan didn't care. They followed instructions and promptly, enthusiastically kissed.

I called out another number. This time it belonged to the wedding photographer. He was a man with a full head of white hair and wore a lavender sports jacket. (I'm not making that up, I swear!) He was in the back of the hall when I called his number. He quickly made his way to the podium, put his arm behind my back, dipped and kissed me, as well! When Bob put his arm behind Susan and dipped her, Susan even turned her face away from Bob imitating me and my... surprise. I was mortified, but everyone roared with laughter. Well, everyone except the mother-of-the-bride.

Visibly stressed, she came up to me and said, "Judi, please play some improv games or something. All this kissing needs to stop!"

"This is one of the games Susan wanted to play!" I defended myself. "I'll call Terrance's number next. He'll kiss someone else."

I'm sure you can see where this is going. I went to the table, looked at Terrance's place card and called his number. Son-of-a-bitch if my own partner in crime didn't betray me. He also kissed me -- as I believe everyone was expecting, I might add. Bob and Susan followed and it was clear that the game was no longer "if you're number is called, kiss your mate/date." It was "if you're number is called, kiss Judi!"

I talked to Terrance today and asked him, "How did the reception end? How did we stop calling out numbers? How did we get out of that?" He couldn't remember. He was too busy laughing at the recollection of the story. But he did say, "That was totally awkward... but funny!"

Four years later I attended Susan's brother's wedding. Henry, Susan's brother, also performed on the improv team with me and Terrance and he married a really good friend of mine. Henry and June involved me in their reception and even had the same photographer (without the lavender sports jacket this time). I am happy to report, however, that their reception was outside, there WAS alcohol and the only person who kissed me was my date. :)

The Time I Didn't Have Lunch with the Movie Star

I have lots of awkward moments. People tell me they find this hard to believe given my perceived social ease but I'm of the opinion that if you talk to as many people as I do, you will eventually acquire your fair share of "I-wish-I-could-go-hide-in-a-closet" moments.

Secret Life of Tova Darling - a blog I've been following - has a Tuesday tradition of sharing an awkward moment, inviting others to share one and link back to her blog. As a way of tipping my hat to both her and her blog, I will participate.

I've been earning a salary (albeit, at times, an incredibly modest one) for years by talking to people I don't know. I've had the opportunity to meet and talk to all kinds of people - academics, public figures, celebrities, billionaires, etc. Some of these people I had the opportunity to speak to because of my line of work and some of these people I had the opportunity to speak to because it is rare that I won't talk to someone, no matter who they are.

A couple of years ago, I worked in a section of Chicago where, given the proximity of The Four Seasons hotel, the lakefront, landmark arcitecture, etc., it wasn't uncommon to see celebrities. A friend even started referring to my local coffee shop as "Starbucks to the Stars" given the number of times I would recognize and meet various actors.

One summer day, I saw a guy sitting outside my "Starbucks to the Stars" and thought, "He's cute... and he looks familiar." I couldn't place him. Was he someone I'd met? Was he one of the Baristas on a coffee break? I continued to see him at the Starbucks and then I started seeing him walking around town, too.

While on a post-lunch walk back to the office with a colleague, there he was again, sitting outside the Starbucks. My colleague pointed to him and said, "Oh my gosh! That's Aaron Eckhart!"

(I usually use fake names in my blog posts. The names for the celebreties mentioned in this post, however, are real.)

I said, "I don't know who that is."
She said, "He was in Thank You for Smoking!"
I hadn't seen that movie so still, I didn't know who that was. I finally realized she was talking about the guy I'd seen! I wanted to talk to him. "Let's go say hi!" I suggested.
"Oh my gosh, no." My colleague replied.
"Come on!" I urged. "Let's go get a Starbucks gift card for like $5 and give it to him as a way of buying him a drink."
Again, she refused to accompany me. So, I walked across the street, went into the Starbucks, purchased a $5 gift card and proceeded to approach Aaron Eckhart while my colleague literally hid behind a tree.
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You might think this story doesn't qualify as an Awkward Moment, but just wait, it will.
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"Excuse me..." I began. "Hi. My colleague and I recognized you sitting over here and we wanted to say 'hello' and offer to buy you a drink and thought this (handing him the gift card) might be the least intrusive way to do so."

"Oh hi," he said. "Thank you (taking the gift card). That's very nice of you. I'm Aaron." (extending his hand so I could shake it)

What followed was 5-10 minutes of friendly conversation about the movie being filmed for which he was in town (The Dark Knight). I bid him a good day, crossed the street to my colleague hiding behind the tree and we went back to work. Upon returning to my office, of course, I sat down at my computer and discovered, after a quick google search, WHY it was he looked so familiar. While I hadn't seen Thank You for Smoking, I HAD seen him in several OTHER movies.

Two days later I bumped into him on a street corner. I said hello and introduced myself as the person who gave him a Starbucks gift card a few days earlier. He remembered me and we started talking. He explained that he was in the process of finding the place where he was going to have lunch that day. I asked if he wanted any recommendations and he declined, sharing that many actors stay holed up in their hotel room, ordering room service and such but he really likes to get into a city, to learn it and become a part of it while he's in town. He pointed to a place he'd already gone to several times but that he was thinking of trying something different.

We continued to talk - about work, where he grew up, some things we had in common, etc. After about 20 minutes I was thinking, "I totally have to ask this guy to have lunch with me."
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You might still think this story doesn't qualify as an Awkward Moment story, but just wait...
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I said, "By the way, when we met the other day, you introduced yourself to me as Aaron. You said, "Hi, I'm Aaron." I really appreciated that. You put yourself on such a normal level of human interaction - one equal to me. Thank you."

He explained that there is a reason why he does this. He shared a story about a time when he was in a park in L.A. There was a little girl playing in the park and there were men dressed in suits who seemed to be obvious (to him) body guards. Then he noticed a man approach the little girl who was none other than Paul McCartney. Paul McCartney came up to Aaron Eckhart and introduced himself by saying, "Hi, I'm Paul," and the two continued in conversation. Aaron shared that he appreciated the way Paul McCartney introduced himself. It struck him and he always liked it. "Plus," he added, "I never want to know if someone DOESN'T know who I am, you know?"

You'd THINK this would've made it crystal clear to me NOT to tell him that I'd seen him around but couldn't place him, wouldn't you? You'd THINK so, but no.

Sidebar: See, I never assume that people know me, even after meeting me several times. I never assume people remember me. I send someone a note or an email or whatever - I don't assume they remember. In fact, I try to make people feel better if/when they don't remember me. I don self-deprecation and say something jokingly like, "Really, I'm not all that memorable..."

So, unfortunately, I found myself saying, "It's funny you say that, because..."

Sidebar #2: Let me interject that my Silent-Observer-Self looked down on my Real-Time-Self in this moment and tried to tell my Real-Time-Self, "Shut up! Stop! Don't do it!" But I'm still working on getting those two to talk to each other. So...

This is the part where it went down hill. This is the part where I told him that I'd seen him around but couldn't place him. This is the part where I said that I'd wondered if he was one of the Starbucks Baristas! This is the part where I shared that my colleague told me he was in the movie Thank You for Smoking and I didn't know who he was. This is the part where I went so far as to tell him that when my colleague said, "That's Aaron Eckhart!" I STILL didn't know who he was.

It still causes me great pain to remember how effectively I botched up this interaction. That I told this man exactly what he told me - very specifically, I might add - what he never wanted to know.

So is it any surprise, then, that after what had been a very enjoyably organic and casual 20 minute conversation with no end in sight quickly came to an end after I finished listing all the ways I didn't actually know who he was?

I expect one of us said, "Well, have a nice day," or something but honestly, I don't even know HOW we stopped talking to each other. I only know that while my Real-Time-Self crossed the street and went back to work, my Silent-Observer-Self was looking for the nearest closet.

Ever since, I refer to this incident as "The Time I Didn't have lunch with Aaron Eckhart." Of course, there's no saying he would've had lunch with me anyway. But, as usual, this story of mine doesn't have the ending you wish it did, does it?