The Jerkette

February 2, 2008 11:46 AM

You know those sweet people who tiptoe about being eternally embarrassed for no discernible reason? I used to be like that, living in fear of offending others and feeling my cheeks crimson whenever I spoke, didn't speak enough, or even if a crumb of my muffin so much as blew onto somebody else's plate. And the more I'd try to talk myself out of feeling embarrassed, the more self-conscious I'd make myself feel. I remember one party in college where I was sitting in the corner, watching a movie with a bunch of people I'd just met. I was too shy to speak, and so embarrassed by my silence that when I had to go to the bathroom I couldn't bring myself to stand up and walk across the room because I was afraid the other kids would be reminded of the fact that I'd been mouldering in the corner all along, and my eternal lameness would reveal itself. Insane, I know.

Well, theres a small but growing number of people with the opposite problem, folks who do things that are actually foolish without ever seeming to get all that bothered about it. I'm here to report that the sum of the events from the last week lead me to suspect--no, to lament--that I am turning into one of those people. An even less ideal way to be than the co-ed I once was.

The evidence:

1. Spilled entire cup of coffee all over famous actor first thing Monday morning. Simply stood there are took in the mess I'd made. When famous actor asked me if I was okay or if I was mortally embarrassed, I thanked him, told him I was fine, and drifted away.

2. Forced my way into a soap opera star's changing room even though she protested that it wasn't such a good time, as her "friend" might be "undressed." (Sadly, he wasn't.)

3. Was reprimanded for trying to slip out of my hippie food coop cheese wrapping shift 10 minutes early and sorta shrugged the whole thing off.

4. Was alerted by a kind woman on the A train at rush hour that I hadn't buttoned my shirt all the way. Did I pull my jacket tight and bury my face in my detective book? Or did I make like I was in the Barney's changing room and fix the situation right on spot?

5. Ate Friday night dinner by self at hole in the wall taxi drivers' restaurant and got yelled at on way out for leaving a dirty napkin on the table. Through mirrored walls saw at least three patrons crane their necks to see the shmuck who couldn't clean up after herself.

The worst part of it all is that among these textbook mortifying occasions, I can't name a single one where I wanted to hang my head low or click my heels and disappear. Maybe it's a function of getting older, but nothing rates up there with the time I was twelve and looked across my friend Matty K's empty living room to see that his uncle was seated in an easy chair, watching me pick my nose. It was so bad I nearly choked. Just typing those words makes me want to run for the hills. But Matty's uncle didn't seem too offended. In fact, I remember how sweetly he smiled at me that day. His expression said: hey, it's okay, we all make mistakes.

There's something endearing about watching others squirm. Conversely, charging your way through the day, forgetting to button your shirt or knocking over cups of hot coffee along the way, is a bit of a turn-off to others.  You're telegraphing your jerkiness with your every move. You're thisclose to shedding all your friends.

The soap opera actress told me when she needs to cry she just thinks of sad things that she's gone through. I'm going to have to start thinking back to that fateful day in Matty K's apartment, and hope that my cheeks start looking a little pinker. Either that or I'll remember to start carrying my blush around.

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