I would say “you’re not going to believe this,” but if you’ve ever read this blog before, you will probably believe it.
A week or so ago I ran into an old friend at the park. We chatted, and she said, “We should totally have a play date!” And I said, “YES! We totally should!” And she said, “I’ll e-mail you!” And I said, “Awesome!”
Two days later, I got a text on my phone from a phone number I didn’t recognize, saying, “Any chance you have some free time to come hang out with me?”
Now, I couldn’t exactly write back and say, “I would love to see you! What is your name?” So instead I assumed, I think with good reason, that this was the friend I ran into two days earlier. So I texted back and we made plans for me to come by her house one morning last week.
That morning I dropped the kids off at school and headed over to her house. I knocked on the door. I rang the doorbell. I barked back at her dog. I chatted with her mailman about the weather. No one came to the door.
I said, “Well, shit. That’s kinda weird.” So we had the following text conversation:
We rescheduled for Monday.
Monday morning I dropped off the kids at school and drove to her house. I rang the doorbell. I knocked on her door. I said hello to her dog again. And again, no one answered the door.
Now I was annoyed. I thought this was some bullshit and I was very confused. So I sent her a text. This is what happened next:
See, by now I was starting to get suspicious. But it was way too late in the game for me to ask who I was talking to. I mean, that would make me look like a jackass, right? Right. So instead I asked for the address so I could make it seem like I just got the wrong house.
I AM THE GREATEST IDIOT IN THE WORLD.
Well, as you have probably guessed by now, the person whose house I was at (and who — thank god — was never home) and the person I was texting were two completely different people. When I finally got to the right person’s house, I said, “I have a story to tell you.” She was a little surprised that a) I hadn’t taken the time to enter her as a contact yet, even though we’ve been friends for years, and b) that it took me two weeks to figure out who I was talking to.
And THAT is why I can’t do people. That is also why I have patient and forgiving friends. Because they know I am not the brightest bulb in the bunch, or the sharpest knife in the drawer, or even the hairiest dog at the pound, but they hang in there anyway.