Awkward, embarrassing and humiliating

[Sunstone]

I can't blame you. I have another one also involving an older women hitting me.

It happened a few years before the one i shared in the OP. I was standing infront of a movie theater with a couple of people waiting for the doors to open. There was a big crowd waiting, of course. As i stood there, someone pushed me from the back. I turned around and saw that an old woman did it, and she was in the process of pushing me again.

Neither pushes had any considerable force behind them, i almost didn't move. But i could see in the second one that at least, as far as she was trying to, the pushes were supposed to be intense. She was angry, and was putting a lot into it. Then, she hugged a young girl, while staring at me, and started to walk away with her. The little girl stared at me too, with an expression and eyes that looked like they were blaming me for being a horrible person.

I was mesmerized, but i quickly figured that may be she thought i was rubbing against her or something. Or may be someone else did and they thought it was me, i'm not sure. So, i loudly asked them to wait and tell me what this was about. They neither stopped nor answered, and a guy watching decided to intervene.

He approached me and talked in an aggressive voice, kind of trying to put an end to what he thought was a continuation of my supposed harassment to them. He said something like; "What's up, buddy?". So then i said; "What's up, ************?".

He rolled his eyes, twisted his lips, shook his head and walked away. I noticed that a lot of other people in the crowd were also looking at me and shaking their heads, blaming me with all sorts of expressions for my shameful behavior. I almost burst out in anger at everybody, but then i smiled instead and turned back to the people i was with, who at that point were almost crying in laughter.

I love that story! I don't know why, but for some reason, I think some of the funniest moments in life happen when one is falsely accused of something he or she knows nothing about. Those are "Who me? WTF?" moments and perhaps I find them so hilarious because I see in them some sort of metaphor for existence itself. I mean, we're put here by the Cosmos and then treated to its all but slapstick sense of humor, so to speak. We never really know what's going on, but that doesn't stop the Cosmos from holding us accountable for it.

Can you recall any other situations in which everyone -- or at least most people -- were sure you were guilty of something that you were oblivious to?

 

[Badran]

Even a year later, they were still getting laughs among themselves by suddenly and without warning now and then yelling out (in my presence, of course) "Crystal, you're a *****, but I love you!"

I think it's smooth! In fact, i'm shocked that it didn't work.

I'm afraid this story has done nothing but increase my faith in your legendary pick up skills. The fact that this didn't work only reflects badly on Crystal, not you!

 

[Wirey]

When I was a lot younger, I lived in Dartmouth in Nova Scotia and worked in Halifax. Every morning I would get on the Number 59 bus, which was one of those long, articulated ones (that'll be important later), and rode across the bridge to work. One morning, I was suffering from a series of those small, noiseless, odourless farts we all get once in a while. You know, bwips. On the walk over to the bus stop, I was expelling a bwip about every twenty or thirty seconds, but as they weren't shaking the rafters, so to speak, I figured 'Eh, what the Hell," and kept letting them rip.

Every morning that bus would be so packed I had to stand, and that morning was no exception. While I was standing there, I felt a bwip come on. Now, I'm most of the way to the front of the bus, and there's road noise, and conversations, and the diesel, and I said to myself "Meh, who'll know?" And I let my bwip do it's bwipping worst.

What I didn't realize was that behind this bwip was a Louis Armstrong, wet, loud, brash, just-skied-off-the-edge-of-a-turd trumpet fart, and when it saw me open up, it made a break for daylight. It went something like this:

bwip-BRRRRARAAAAARRRRAAAAAAPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFLLLLLLLLLLTTT!

This thing was at least five seconds in duration, and smellled like hatred at low tide. It went on so long that every single person on the bus had ample opportunity to look around and say "Hey! Where is that coming from? Look, it's that guy!"

So I turned beet red and tried to be cool, like I didn't even notice it, you know, like any moron would. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was staring at me, except for a few people who covered their faces with their shirts and looked away in disgust. I took a little peek over my shoulder, and noticed my butt was about six inches from this woman's face. She was obviously holding her breath, and her face was redder than mine. She must have felt like she started the day in a poopy hurricane. I would have went home and showered.

The next day, I started getting up 10 minutes earlier and taking the Number 60 bus.

 

[Alceste]

When I was a lot younger, I lived in Dartmouth in Nova Scotia and worked in Halifax. Every morning I would get on the Number 59 bus, which was one of those long, articulated ones (that'll be important later), and rode across the bridge to work. One morning, I was suffering from a series of those small, noiseless, odourless farts we all get once in a while. You know, bwips. On the walk over to the bus stop, I was expelling a bwip about every twenty or thirty seconds, but as they weren't shaking the rafters, so to speak, I figured 'Eh, what the Hell," and kept letting them rip.

Every morning that bus would be so packed I had to stand, and that morning was no exception. While I was standing there, I felt a bwip come on. Now, I'm most of the way to the front of the bus, and there's road noise, and conversations, and the diesel, and I said to myself "Meh, who'll know?" And I let my bwip do it's bwipping worst.

What I didn't realize was that behind this bwip was a Louis Armstrong, wet, loud, brash, just-skied-off-the-edge-of-a-turd trumpet fart, and when it saw me open up, it made a break for daylight. It went something like this:

bwip-BRRRRARAAAAARRRRAAAAAAPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFLLLLLLLLLLTTT!

This thing was at least five seconds in duration, and smellled like hatred at low tide. It went on so long that every single person on the bus had ample opportunity to look around and say "Hey! Where is that coming from? Look, it's that guy!"

So I turned beet red and tried to be cool, like I didn't even notice it, you know, like any moron would. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was staring at me, except for a few people who covered their faces with their shirts and looked away in disgust. I took a little peek over my shoulder, and noticed my butt was about six inches from this woman's face. She was obviously holding her breath, and her face was redder than mine. She must have felt like she started the day in a poopy hurricane. I would have went home and showered.

The next day, I started getting up 10 minutes earlier and taking the Number 60 bus.

This post deserves to be framed and mounted in the RF hall of fame.

 

[Wirey]

This post deserves to be framed and mounted in the RF hall of fame.

Glad to contribute.

 

[Sunstone]

One last story and then I will cease to embarrass myself by being a thread hog. This story, however, is more philosophical than the others.

I met Becky about two years after I came to Colorado. We quickly developed a Platonic friendship. One Saturday, Becky decided to take her kids to a nudist resort and to invite me to come along.

I had never been to a nudist resort before, but I had come to admire Becky's free spirit in many things, and largely because of that, I saw her invitation as a positive adventure. Still, I was reassured when she told me that nudity was not mandatory at the resort, and that people could wear clothing if they chose to. I resolved to keep my clothes on.

When we got to the resort, I found out that among its attractions were nine natural pools that people enjoyed soaking in. Becky and I ended up soaking in one of the pools while the kids wandered off to play in another. She was stripped down to the buff, but I was wearing swimming trunks.

Mostly inspired by her, I finally got up the courage to go nude. At first, I experienced exactly the feelings mentioned in title of this thread. That is, I felt intensely awkward, embarrassed, and even humiliated. I worried what Becky thought of me, whether she judged my body favorably or unfavorably, and whether her judgment of me would impact our friendship. My feelings were so strong they were all I was aware of.

Then the most unexpected thing happened. Maybe the embarrassment just became too much for me to sustain.

In the end, and rather abruptly, I relaxed, quit judging myself, and was astonished at how comfortable I suddenly felt.

Because of that experience, and because other people have told me they experienced much that same thing when first going nude, I've developed a strong suspicion that nudity can almost force a person to accept themselves as they are, without embarrassment. That is, you are kind of presented with an either/or choice. You either accept yourself as you are without judgment, or you go nuts refusing to accept yourself and thus remaining judgmental and uncomfortably embarrassed.

Does that make any sense?

 

[Sunstone]

This post deserves to be framed and mounted in the RF hall of fame.

I agree! Every word of it! Wirey, I think you could be a professional writer if you wanted the job.

 

[Wirey]

I agree! Every word of it! Wirey, I think you could be a professional writer if you wanted the job.

From you, that's a compliment. But, it would cut into my drinking time, so forget it.

 

[Me Myself]

I was in school and I was the last in the room doing the exam. I begged the teacher to let me go to the bathroom and go back and she said that if I left, the exam was over.

I was alone in the class making the exam as fast as I could and moving my legs very fast in desperation, making sound in the floor as if I was running in place while sitted. The teacher said I was being dramatic in a tone of such boredom...

Finally I got up, making 100 steps for every space that should have had one and delivered her the exam and before I could run t the bathroom... well, a yellow golden liquid of relief from my shorts made wet all the floor below me. The teacher made a sound and face of horrible disgust and I was so reliefed and embarassed at the same time.

I was very lucky we were alone in that room but my short was all wet. I dont remember what I did from then. I do remember though, that that teacher never held me to not go to the bathroom again

 

[Alceste]

New Years Eve, 1994. I had only discovered the joys and pains of binge drinking a couple years prior, and I was still not very good at identifying my limits. I crossed a line somewhere, and was deposited (by my request) at the bar my brand new boyfriend worked at around closing time, staggering drunk, bumming cigarettes and / or alcohol from anybody who could make out what I was saying.

After a short nap on the bar, I woke up with an urgent need to pee and stumbled to the bathroom. Mid-pee, I discovered an even more urgent need to puke, and in my desperation to get my drunken self turned around in time, I guess I must have splashed a little - probably from both ends.

I didn't realize it, but I was not alone. A horrified voice in the stall next to mine screamed "OH MY GOD! Some chick just puked on my shoes!"

I was completely mortified. How can I make amends, I asked myself, and show her I'm not a bad person, just very, very drunk. I searched about my person for something I could give her - some token of my remorse. I had nothing but a five dollar bill.

Wiping my chin, I flopped out of the stall and gave it to her - it was the only thing I had to give. I struggled for the perfect words to express my remorse and shame. What came out was "Here's five bucks - get yourself a new pair of shoes".

 

[Me Myself]

New Years Eve, 1994. I had only discovered the joys and pains of binge drinking a couple years prior, and I was still not very good at identifying my limits. I crossed a line somewhere, and was deposited (by my request) at the bar my brand new boyfriend worked at around closing time, staggering drunk, bumming cigarettes and / or alcohol from anybody who could make out what I was saying.

After a short nap on the bar, I woke up with an urgent need to pee and stumbled to the bathroom. Mid-pee, I discovered an even more urgent need to puke, and in my desperation to get my drunken self turned around in time, I guess I must have splashed a little - probably from both ends.

I didn't realize it, but I was not alone. A horrified voice in the stall next to mine screamed "OH MY GOD! Some chick just puked on my shoes!"

I was completely mortified. How can I make amends, I asked myself, and show her I'm not a bad person, just very, very drunk. I searched about my person for something I could give her - some token of my remorse. I had nothing but a five dollar bill.

Wiping my chin, I flopped out of the stall and gave it to her - it was the only thing I had to give. I struggled for the perfect words to express my remorse and shame. What came out was "Here's five bucks - get yourself a new pair of shoes".

Oh No she didn't! Uh - UH!

 

[Alceste]

Oh No she didn't! Uh - UH!

Yes, I'm afraid she did. :thud:

To make matters worse, the new boyfriend's coworkers had to clean up the mess.

 

[Alceste]

I have another binge drinking shame story. This one is from the West Coast of Ireland, where I was taking in an Irish music festival. The organizer was a friend of mine and also a bit of a rake. He plied me with free alcohol and took me to free concerts for the entire night, hoping to wear down my resistance to his charms.

Toward the end of the night, we ended up in a packed pub, where the Guinness was flowing as freely as the drunken a capella singing, for which the whole pub would hush and listen (an Irish custom).

My rakish friend told me I should sing a song. He had heard a sizable chunk of my repertoire before, so I asked him if he had anything in particular in mind. He did. He wanted to hear the most offensive song I've ever written in my life - an incredibly raunchy parody of Gospel music called "Bend Me Over, Jesus". Possibly this is the most offensive song ANYBODY has ever written. The handful of times I have sung it in front of other people, I've wanted to pass around a jar of ear plugs for the religiously inclined, even though the audience were all hipsters.

So anyway, at the time, in front of several hundred people in one of the most Catholic corners of the earth, it seemed like a great idea. So I sang it. Even the verse I'd never sung aloud for anyone before because it goes too far. I didn't just sing it either, I SOLD it. Clapping my hands, stomping my feet, using my loudest belting voice. Trying to get people to sing along.

When I woke up the next morning, among my fuzzy recollections of the previous night, that moment stood out crystal clear, like a shining beacon. I didn't want to believe it. Over breakfast, I asked my friend "Did I sing..." and he cut in "Oh, yes you certainly did!" laughing most insensitively.

"How'd it go over?" I asked.

"About like I thought it would. Half the room was on the floor and the other half were sheer horrified."

For the next couple days of the festival, I was frequently recognized on the street by people who had been in the pub on that fateful night, making for some very awkward conversations.

 

[Wherenextcolumbus]

you see this is why I don't get drunk

 

[Caladan]

Caladan, your story is fascinating from beginning to end. Hell, I didn't even know there were still wild wolves in Israel, let alone that they were sometimes bold enough to attack people.

Yeap, still some wolves around here. In fact there has been a rise in wolves attack on cattle in Northern Israel. The Arabian wolf of the Southern Israeli desert is a subspecies of the gray wolf. And while literature about it tend to describe it as smaller in size, let me tell you that the wolf we encountered was anything but. He was huge, aggressive, and fiercely territorial. He had no fear of us whatsoever.

 

[Alceste]

you see this is why I don't get drunk

Well, in fairness, I probably would have done that one sober.

 

[MysticSang'ha]

That's downright hilarious, Heather! Especially since it involves you who I've always imagined as beyond normal embarrassment.

You have been paying attention. You're very right.

 

[Sunstone]

Yeap, still some wolves around here. In fact there has been a rise in wolves attack on cattle in Northern Israel. The Arabian wolf of the Southern Israeli desert is a subspecies of the gray wolf. And while literature about it tend to describe it as smaller in size, let me tell you that the wolf we encountered was anything but. He was huge, aggressive, and fiercely territorial. He had no fear of us whatsoever.

One reason that surprises me, Dan, is that I've been told by no less than a field biologist that there are almost no verified incidents of wolves attacking people in North America. However, he insisted the reports were skewed because no one was considering Inuit accounts of being attacked as "verified".

 

[Wirey]

One reason that surprises me, Dan, is that I've been told by no less than a field biologist that there are almost no verified incidents of wolves attacking people in North America. However, he insisted the reports were skewed because no one was considering Inuit accounts of being attacked as "verified".

That's here. In Russia, wolves actively hunt people. Remember 'Peter and the Wolf'?

 

[Sunstone]

That's here. In Russia, wolves actively hunt people. Remember 'Peter and the Wolf'?

Yeah, but I thought that was just a fairy tale. So, it's got some truth to it afterall.