I met this guy called Jack yesterday, at Soul Survivor, at the washing up bowls. We were both on cleaning duty, and he was doing the thing where you spend ages drying a single spoon in order to look productive without actually doing anything. I clocked him, and our conversation went something like this:
Me: You going to actually do something?
Him: Nah, can't be arsed.
Me: Touche.
Him: I'm Jack.
Me: Katherine.
Him: Cool. [Wipe cutlery] So, you had fun this week?
Me: Yeah! It's been great!
Him: What's been the best bit?
Me: Um... [Really thinks about it] I... don't actually remember.
Him: Right... [Clearly thinking I'm mental]
Me: I'm sorry, I'm literally the worst person in the world to try and have a conversation with.
Him: Haha, it's alright.
Me: Give me a hug. [Hug]
Him: [Thoroughly weirded] O...kay.
Me: Mhmm. I'm going to pretend I have somewhere I need to be.
Him: Fair enough.
Me: We should try having another really awkward conversation like this sometime.
Him: We should.
Me: Byee. [Exeunt]
What the hell is wrong with me?!
[In case you were wondering, which you weren't, Jack's roughly my age and really quite hot. Which makes the above conversation my pitiful attempt at flirting. And the incident later that day when we passed in the street and I addressed him as "awkward conversation guy" - flirting. If I was that way inclined, I would have bashed my head against a spiked wall many, many times immediately afterwards.*]
Anyway, this is just a rather unwelcome preview of the kind of conversations I'm going to be having left right and centre with strangers when I begin my new school in - oo - LESS THAN THREE WEEKS. Anyone else terrified? No? Just me? Ahhhh, I'm scared. If this is the way I go about talking to all strangers then I am, to put it eloquently, monumentally bollocked. I'd like to think I'm less of the brick wall I was a couple of years ago; I'm less insecure, I've gone up a bra size [just one, depressingly], I know how to stand out in a crowd, etc - but all the same. What's worse, the girl who sits meekly in the corner with her mouth taped shut, or the girl who, by some cruel trick of nature, is obliged to make a tit of herself at every opportunity? Dude.
*Whatever the hell I did worked, I got his number anyway. My guess is, he felt sorry for me.
Quote of the day: Ahh! Wasp! Kill it! No, don't kill it! Trap it! It's after the jam! Get it! NOT ON MY PLATE YOU BASTA- oh right, fine, use my plate why don't you. Well now it's trapped. What now? Shake it! NO! I forbid you to - you shook it. Don't let it go! It's angry! Gerry's angry! You named the wasp? Hell yes I did! Well what now? He's angry, we have to kill him. How do you plan on killing him? I dunno, he'll suffocate eventually. You can't suffocate him! That's inhumane! I KNOW! I'll drown him in the washing up bowl! Aww come on, don't do that! I'm doing it! ... Done it! You drowned him? Yup! You sure he's dead? Yup! You scooped him out of there? Um... I can't see him, there's bubbles in the way. Hey! That should be his name! Bubbles! [The people on my camp at half seven this morning around breakfast when apprehended by a wasp.]
NB - I just read this through, and realised that how I've portrayed Jack is inaccurate. I've inadvertently made him out to be a lazy, wasp-murdering, monosyllabic bastard, but he's not. He actually seems like a really nice guy.
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