St. Mary's

When I left the post office today and got into my car, a woman appeared at the passenger's side door and motioned for me to roll down the window. She was maybe holding 10 bags — plastic grocery bags, canvas bags, a cloth purse, things that were floral, etc. No, she was not homeless.

But as soon as I rolled it down, she gasped. "Oh! I thought you were someone else! I was about to ask you how much weight you lost! Did you go to St. Mary's? I'm thinking of someone from St. Mary's. Drives the same car... she used to be chunky... chunky like me. Well, a little more chunky than me. Wonder if she still is. But she was chunky."

"NO." - Me

"Sorry, then!" - Her

And she watched me drive away, determined to believe I was her once-fat, or still-fat friend.

Deaf at 28.

A guy introduced himself to me as Jorge. But I heard Horne (accent over the e). And continued to call him that all day. FML.

He saw me in white.

The Blue Cross Blue Shield of Georgia health insurance dude recently left me a voicemail. He was at our school at orientation, selling us all nicely priced health plans. But between graduating, re-locating to MA and finding a job, my peach-state health insurance naturally did me no service. After calling him back to tell him I was recently employed and had health insurance again, he thought it was good an opportunity as any to ask me about marriage.

Now, there’s no way this man remembers me from orientation in April 2008, and likewise, I doubt I could pick him out of a crowd. But still, from the sound of my voice he said, “Marriage is next in the cards for you.” And then asked if I was taking the appropriate steps to get to the altar.

Because he’s Southern (take no offense, y’all), I absolutely could not get off the phone with him. With each attempt, he managed to find a new chapter. If it wasn’t marriage we were discussing, it was how high the taxes were in the North East, or the humidity in Hotlanta, or get this… the divorce rate across the country. Cue Alanis: And isn’t it ironic?

I should have mentioned earlier that this whole conversation took place on the commuter rail with the conductor, a Spanish woman and an ADHD kid all screaming in the background. And still, Mr. Blue Cross Blue Shield talked a blue streak, completely unfazed. Probably reclining in his socks with a gimlet in hand. And picturing me in a veil. Cringe.