On Friday night, a guy in my ward (for sake of privacy, let's call him Donald) took Lissa out on a date. I answered the door when he came to pick her up and, being the kind gentleman that he is, made small talk with the dateless roommate (that's me) while he waited for Lissa to grab her shoes and purse. During said small talk, he asked if I had any fun plans for the night.
"Not really," I told him, "My other roommates are out for the night, so I'll probably just hang out here."
"Oh, that's terrible," Donald replied, "I'm so sorry."
"It's really okay," I insisted, because it really was okay. It's only the second week I've been here; I didn't really expect to have an overwhelming number of social engagements.
After that, the pair left, and I spent a quiet evening at home, quite content, to be completely honest.
Fast forward to today. After church, calling-less ward members were assigned in waves to meet with a member of the bishopric and receive a calling. And when I say waves, I mean tsunamis. There were a lot of people waiting. Seriously. A lot.
While waiting, I chatted with some new found acquaintances and tried to forget how hungry I was. I was in the middle of a conversation with said acquaintances when Donald approached me out of nowhere. "I felt SO BAD for you on Friday night," he said loudly. "Did you end up doing anything at all?!"
As I stared at Donald, incredulous, the group of people I'd been talking to burst into hysterical laughter. Donald immediately looked apologetic as he must have realized how awful that had sounded. "I couldn't have said that in a worse way, could I?"
"Nope," I said, itching to give the back story to the onlookers in hopes that it would destroy the image forming in their minds of me as a reclusive hermit.
"I shouldn't even try to fix what I just said."
"Nope," I repeated, painfully aware of the guffaws that still hadn't ceased.
"Maybe I should just walk away now," Donald said sheepishly.
"Yeah," I agreed.
"But hey," Donald added, "maybe you should thank me. Now everybody will pity you and come over on Friday night."
Everybody laughed harder and I winced. Not exactly the way I was wanting to secure plans for Friday nights.
"Okay, I'm walking away now," Donald said and, thankfully, followed through without another word.
I turned back to the people who were laughing at my expense. I don't really blush or get outwardly embarrassed very easily, but I'm pretty sure I closely resembled Uncle Vernon in one of his many fits of rage. I buried my face in my hands, not ready to meet the eyes of the snickering folks around me.
When I'd regained my composure, I explained the back story, which, even if it didn't eliminate the label they had probably slapped on me, did make me feel a little better. At least the whole truth was out there floating around in the universe. And I guess I should count my blessings, because they continued to talk to me after the Friday Night Debacle and didn't shun me as one unworthy of normal human interaction.
Looking back, it truly was funny. But, it was one of those experiences that is a whole lot funnier if you're the onlooker and not the person whose pitiful social habits are being announced to the whole world. And, in defense of Donald, I know he wasn't trying to embarrass me or be rude or anything like that. He is a genuinely nice person who just didn't quite think the implications of his statement through before saying it. Loudly. In a roomful of people.
Oh, and one more thing. I DO, as a matter of fact, have plans for this Friday night. So no need to show up on my doorstep with a movie in hand and an expression of sympathy on your face. I've got this one covered.
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