A cute guy needed a favor from me yesterday. He wanted to temporarily leave his musical instrument in my office because it looked like it was going to rain outside.
Him: Do you mind if I leave this here [in a spot that isn't ever used]?
Me: Sure [followed by a lame joke].
Me: [More bad jokes]. Sorry, I can't help it. They [the lousy jokes] just keep coming out.
The plan was for him to pick up his instrument today. So, accordingly, I spent the first hour at work thinking up better jokes and clever responses in preparation for his return. Simultaneously, I tried to use my mind to will him to come in the afternoon when my hair is sexier.*
He came back in the morning. And I wasn't prepared! I didn't have my witty banter down and I was practically mute when he spoke to me. He was prepared though. He definitely recognized yesterday that I suffer from Bad Jokes Syndrome and readied himself with funnies to spit back at me.
Him: Hey, how are you?
Him: Are you ready to part with this [his instrument]?
Him: You can go back to standing in that spot all you want now.
Him: Thanks again.
Then he walked out my door.
* * *
Time to deal with this tragedy in the only appropriate way - artistically.
A Poem Called Failure
Failure is a seven-letter word
Failure is my life sidekick
Failure won't give me a break
Right now, I am trying to will myself to produce mourning tears
But it's not working
* * *
When is it my turn for love?
Hmm... I wonder if he thinks I'm very attractive. I'd feel much better about this whole thing if I knew that he does.
*Typically, in the morning, I tie my hair up in a bun while it's damp. After a few hours, I let my hair down. This mode of action gives my hair a wavy look.