Normally when I’m trying to impress someone with my stellar wit and intelligence, I end up saying something like, “Sausages are awkwardly shaped, aren’t they?” or “I wanted to be a nurse until I realised people have gross hairy bits.” Alternatively, I trip, bump into things or spill soup down my front.
But not today.
I was at the cafe with a friend when a local celebrity appeared and caused a bit of commotion. I was a fan of celebrity and wanted to introduce myself but didn’t want to appear too eager. So I took a last gulp of my cappuccino and got ready to casually saunter over.
My friend looked horrified. “But you can’t! You – ” she said.
“I’ve got this. You don’t need to worry.”
“No, but you – ”
“Of course I can. He’s used to people saying hi.”
“It’s not that Meg, it’s -”
“It’s that you don’t think I can have a normal conversation, isn’t it?” I shook my head at her, then smiled and reassured her I’d be okay. She’s always looking out for me.
“But you -”
But whatever she was about to say had to wait – I was already on my way over.
And it was great. I managed to hold my end of the conversation up, the celebrity laughing politely at my jokes and light banter. When we were done, he even took a selfie with me.
I returned to my table proud to have made it through unscathed. I held my head up as I met my friend’s gaze, smug grin on my face.
But I had to double-take. She had that look – the one that said, I’m here for you…again.
“I tried to warn you,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “I really did.”
She passed me her compact mirror.
The woman who stared wide-eyed from the reflection was smothered from nose-tip to chin in chocolate powder and milk foam and looked a more than a little like she’d been kissing cow-pats.
Why me? I sighed deeply.
But it wasn’t that bad. At least I got my freebie – my friend paid for a sympathy coffee – flat white, no foam.