Maybe it's just that I'm too forthright, or maybe I'm just not neurotic enough, but most of the time, things don't get that wacky for me. However, there have been no shortage of misunderstandings that I can get a laugh out of.
The nice thing about being in a serious, long term relationship is that it spares you all the anxiety and shyness of crushes. But back when I was single, when I was still in Austin, I was often lost in the land of crushes. They're usually something I tried very hard to keep a secret. The fact that I can't hide my feelings very well even when I want to (no doubt a big part of why I am in the habit of being honest, may as well do it on my terms) created a goodly amount of angst and neurosis and I always tried to deal with it by overcompensating in other areas.
This particular crush was on a co worker in a bar, this really manic, Sicilian guy who more likely than not came from a mob family. Complicating the matter was his very jealous, coked out girlfriend, whose exact relationship with him was always ambiguous at best. So we'd have lots of wacky conversations and the like about everything from drugs to music (he had been a dj in an industrial club "back when he did speed") to writing. Of course, to keep from being "too obvious" about my interest in said person, I would find myself being something of a social butterfly with other co-workers when business was too slow to actually find a customer to socialize with. Usually these were rather innocuous sorts, those that, while nice to talk to, I would never even dream of having any interest in. (This also served as a reprieve when the tension of the actual crush started freaking me out, and I hadn't yet had ample tequila to not notice.)
Well,
one of my "safe" people was a valet. He was this British guy, really just
kind of nice and innocuous. Well, one particularly dead Sunday night, the
bartender pulled me aside and asked me:
"Hey
can I ask you a personal question?"
Uh-oh.
Nothing strikes terror in my heart quite like someone *asking* to ask a
personal question. The worst part is you can't say no. Believe me, I've
tried. They just go ahead and ask anyways.
"Um,
you can ask" I said. (my normal reply.)
"Do
you have a thing for someone who works here?"
"Why?"
Paranoia seized possession of my brain.
"Well,
I just noticed there's a certain someone, who when he's around, you get
this sparkle in your eye and bounce in your step."
D'oh.
"Okay,"
I said. "Yeah I do but keep it to yourself."
"Can
I guess on who it is?"
"No!"
And I sped across to the other side of the bar.
So
I tried my best to avoid the bartender, which really makes it difficult
to drink, and then I noticed something: there was the valet, standing next
to the bartender, whispering and watching me. There was the valet, watching
me on stage, and trying to talk to me at every opportunity. There was the
valet, strutting around the bar smugly.
???
You
thought it was the valet???
Laughing
to myself I just ignored the posturing and looks and whatnot until they
went away. There was the temptation to correct their misconceptions but
I figured either
a)
they wouldn't believe me anyways
or
b)
they would believe me and that would be even worse.
So what does this have to do with Frasier you may ask? Well, nothing but if I was as bone headed and convoluted as the main characters of the show,it could have easily turned into one of those wacky scenarios...
There but for the grace of god goes I...