The Guy With The Shirt

I've mentioned before that I suck at being a human being in public situations. I make a fool of myself constantly. I'm not kidding.

On Tuesday evening, I went for a long run after work. (Yes, I'm still training for that half-marathon. Yes, I'm surprised I haven't quit.) After about 3.5 miles, I decided to call it quits (as I was gasping for air and possibly dying).

When I got back to my block, I slowed down to a walk. I was listening to Madonna's "4 Minutes" on my iPod and sort of strutting along. As I got within feet of the entrance to my building --meaning I had nearly survived an episode of public exposure without embarrassing myself -- I noticed a guy who looked about my age, walking in my direction on the sidewalk. He was wearing the exact same shirt as I was. 3/4 length sleeved baseball shirt. Light blue middle, dark blue sleeves. This is not THAT common of a shirt for two people on the same street to be wearing.

As he got closer, I thought I should say something about our matching shirts. Then I noticed he was also wearing headphones and so wouldn't hear me well.

Ah! I will make some kind of gesture to indicate that we are wearing matching shirts! Certainly he will feel an immediate sense of camaraderie with me and be glad that I took the time to point out our similarities.

Then I told myself, "No! Stop! Don't do this!" But that little voice was drowned out by Madonna and washed away by the endorphins all bopping around in my system post-run.

In the seconds it took me to think about all of that, he had gotten within a few feet of me.

So, to the rhythm of the music that only I could hear, I pointed to my shirt, then to his, then to mine, then to his. I smiled and, feeling a little panicked, looked for some sense of recognition in his eyes. Nothing. He smiled warily, and that's when I realized that it looked like I was suggesting some kind of romantic interaction between us.

"Me, you, you me...eh? Eh? Come on think about it."

Fuck!

So just as he was about to pass me, in a last ditch attempt to save myself, I tugged on my shirt to show him what I meant.

Now of course it looked like I was saying, "Seriously! You and me! I'll take off my shirt right now. Let's make this happen."

Then he passed by me.

I felt like chasing after him, going, "Hey! Hey mister! Our shirts are the same!"

But I had the sense to realize that would only scare him more, as he was probably already terrified by this strange, sweaty, panting woman with hair flying loose from her ponytail and sticking out in all directions, dancing and leering at him. "It's just you and me, baby!"

And so I just did some stretches, trying to act casual. Then I looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the disaster. But the streets were, thankfully, empty. So I went inside.