More Awkwardity

This is actually part two of an ongoing series about situations that I find awkward. If you were stuck in a cave and the cave didn’t have internet so you somehow missed the first part, here it is.

 

After Sex Lazy Cuddle

I’ve slept with a few women in my life. Not an exorbitant amount, but a few good ones. And as mind blowingly amazing and leg twitchingly awesome as the sex may have been, there is just no way to get around the awkwardness at the end. You know, when you’re ‘all done.’

The only real awkwardness I feel about this, I can blame 100 percent on TV and movies. Because the entertainment industry tells us that we should lie there cuddling, whispering, smoking Camels and drinking Jamison while the Trojan condom somehow magically evaporates. But that doesn’t happen. That can NOT happen because there is always a mess.

If you use a condom (Are man enough to be a Trojan Man? Just curious, you don’t have to answer.), you will cut down a little on the mess. But you still have to find something to do with it pretty quickly because it starts to want to kind of slide off almost immediately, and neither one of you wants that to happen. So assuming that you have a bin beside the bed for that, you still have to get it off. This will make your hand sticky and smell rubbery and you’ll also get the bonus sensory pleasure of that horrible semen killing chemical they use. So even if you manage to get it off neatly, do either one of you want to lie there running your hands through each other’s hair? No.

.

Kind of like that. But not really. I just needed a picture here and thought of Ghostbusters where they got slimed. But I couldn't find a decent imagee of that so I settled on this.

.

And if you don’t use protection it becomes even more urgent to jump out of bed and grab a towel and clean up because everything is leaking everywhere and while you may concede that you are going to need a shower before bed, (unless you are really lazy and just plan to wash your junk in the sink) you really didn’t want to have to change the bed sheets because it’s already getting late and you have to get up to go to fucking work tomorrow.

If you are so cool and romantic that you can successfully ignore all the grossness and just lie there and tickle each other and snack on some Andes Candies and Pringles and have a Pudding Pop and make laughy jokes for hours on end while smearing bodily fluids all over each other (which an hour ago may have sounded kind of hot because you were horny, but now only sounds gross because you are tired and not horny) and all over the bed linens, then I say that you are a lot cooler, and a lot less awkward than I am.

 

Hola Hello

I presently live in a very small town (this is new to me) and it is customary to acknowledge other peoples’ existence in the street (this is also pretty much new to me) which in itself creates an opportunity for awkwardness. Add in the multi cultural community and now I have a foolproof way to awkward myself daily.

In a stunning display of mental uncoordination, I always manage to say hello to Spanish people, and hola to English people. It’s worse than you imagine as well, because like I said this is a very small town. I know who is Spanish and who is English, and they damn well know that I know. But my tongue seems to want revenge for something that I must have done to it in the past because even as the word is coming out of my mouth and I realize my mistake I know that I can not stop it.

.

Do you remember her? Well even she is convinced that I’m retarded.

.

As the top of my head begins to itch and burn, I try to passive aggressively shift the blame onto the bastardly stranger who has made me embarrass myself, by rationalizing that he should have spoken first, effectively saving me from picking the wrong Goddamned language.

If I get lucky and don’t happen to know the person then I’ll simply mutter “no entiendo” no matter what nationality they are or what language I had previously spoken in, and continue walking with my head down and hoping that they will just assume I am retarded and leave me alone.

 

The Guilty Awkward

This last one is the most inexplicable to me. Maybe it’s because I was a bad kid and have been a less than exemplary citizen in my life, but I always feel guilty even when I’m not. It’s not even that I feel guilty; it’s that I believe other people are immediately going to assume that I’m guilty, so I try to counteract that by acting guiltless but all I can pull off is awkward.

If I’m in a store and the clerk looks at me sideways I think that she must think I’m going to shoplift or rob the place at gunpoint. I feel that my only recourse at this point is to overact my shopping experience. I frown twice as frowny as usual as if to say, “I hate this shirt. I wouldn’t even steal this shirt” then subtly shake my head at the offending shirt. Or if I do like something I’ll nod my head and literally say, “Mmm” as if to say, “Yes, I’m thinking of purchasing this fine garment.” I will then make a show of looking at the price tag and theatrically contorting my face as if to say, “This is not cheap but I am seriously considering spending my money on this reasonably priced and well made item.”

.

Hola ¿Cómo está... Oh, you're German? Fuck.

.

I feel guilty when I see an attractive female walk by and she looks at me in a ‘are you looking at me?’ kind of way At this point I have to assess how presentable I myself look. Because if I look good then it is ok to notice her and possibly even acknowledge her presence by attempting to say hello in the wrong language. But if I’m wearing an old t-shirt and a baseball hat then even an involuntarily jerk of my head in the direction of movement when I catch a blur of her walking by would just be pervy. Well, it wouldn’t but she would think it would and that would be awkwardly guilty.

P.S. 

If you didn’t know who the nice lady in the second photo is, and want to read one of my personal favorite posts of all time, go here, you won’t regret it. Actually you might. Aren’t you curious now?