So my mom calls me up the other night. "I've got a message here on my machine from someone calling for you from your old university. Do you want his name and number?"
"Sure." Hmmmm. I don't recognize this name. But the last name is the same as my old English teacher, maybe it's about him?
So I call the number and this guy answers, and slurs the name my mom gave me.
Right then, I should have hung up.
But did I? No. That would be rude.
"Hi." I said, "My mom called me with this number. I used to go to Old University. My name is Liz?"
What followed was really sad. It's this guy who I have really no memory of. He's drunk. And what he remembers about me is my height and my...shape. Specifically the shape and size of my rack as it was then. Which was quite large for someone of my height. Even larger now, but let's not tell him that. And did I mention he's drunk? Eighteen-year-old-boy-at-first-frat-party kind of drunk. And I couldn't place his name, or his description of his long-ago self. Or anything else about him.
"I'm truly sorry. I really don't remember you. It was 19 years ago. I'm very flattered that you remembered me, but I can't recall you at all. Goodbye"
Gah.
Through My Glasses, Dorkily
13 years ago
9 comments:
Eeww.
Yick. Kudos to you for handling this squicky situation with class.
Ick. Ick, ick, ick.
And ick.
Golly, that is sad...and a bit weird to think that he remembers you, but you have no idea who he is. Well done for handling it as you did.
That's pretty funny.
But very bad! *nods*
But, you know, kinda funny.
But bad. Yes, bad. *nods
Pause.
*small fit of giggles*
Bad.
Jim
I sincerely hope I don't represent his glory days, because that would be, as Count Rugen would say, "the saddest thing I've ever heard."
eewww...
That is simply sad. (not that he fondly remembers you and your shape, but that 19 years later he is drunk dialing you)
Gross gross gross! That is terribly sad! I'm so sorry that you even had to have that conversation! Yuck.
poor slob. You handled it well.
Post a Comment