The Biggest Little Small Town in the World
Narrative style inspired by too many episodes of The Golden Girls.
Picture it. Pittsburgh. 2017. A young woman very close to middle-age but still in denial about it goes to a hip little independent bookstore to see her favorite lexicographer (yes, she has one) read from her new book. The weather? Perfect. The parking? Strangely easy. Her mood? Elevated. All is right with the world.
The store is lovely and the girl easily spots the word nerd friend she's meeting near the front of the room. She sits. She talks. She gleefully laughs at the Dictionary Lady's word jokes. She tries not to laugh too hard because the crowd is small and the chairs aren't sturdy. She enjoys hearing the Dictionary Lady read the chapter of her book that's all about defining one word: take. Even though our middle-aged heroine read the chapter a few weeks ago, it's just as entertaining the second time around.
(Defining "take" took the Dictionary Lady a full month!)
After the reading, Dictionary Lady takes questions (see what I did there?), and the young woman has a bunch. She asks them. She receives good answers. She enjoys other peoples' questions. And then she hears a voice from the back row that gives her pause.
She knows that voice. Wait? Did the voice say he's an architect? Oh shit. It can't be that in a city the size of Pittsburgh, he's one of 20 people at an obscure book reading on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
"I'm pretty sure I dated that guy in college," she whispers to her friend, whose eyes grow round.
The event concludes and folks -- the young woman included -- line up to buy a copy of the book. After chatting with the author, the young woman turns around and confirms that the man in question is, indeed, a dude she dated for roughly six weeks in 1999 after years of pining for him. (Turns out, the pining was the best part. The actual dating was terrible.) Another woman might have tried to slip away unnoticed, but our young lady opts for another course of action. She decides the best way to avoid any awkwardness is to approach him directly and say hello.
Which she does.
And then he doesn't recognize her.
And then she feels like a giant awkward idiot.
She reminds him that they "knew each other from the band" (because "I dated you for six weeks and then it was clear that I'd chosen poorly so I ditched you? And then you showed up at my diploma ceremony and I had to talk to you, and you emailed me about how nice it was to have a civil conversation with me and I replied 'My mother taught me better than to kick your ass while I was wearing heels'" seems like the wrong way to go.). And then the light bulb goes off and he recognizes her.
"Oh," he says, looking not at her hair. "Your hair is shorter."
"Yes, plus I've gained some weight," she replies
The make awkward small talk. She meets his wife. She tells him how nice it was to see him and leaves the store.
Then she feels like she has probably just gotten so fat since 1999 that she's completely unrecognizable, so she goes home and eats cookies.
Readers, that girl was me. And the cookies were chocolate chip and salted caramel. Unlike me, they were memorable.
Picture it. Pittsburgh. 2017. A young woman very close to middle-age but still in denial about it goes to a hip little independent bookstore to see her favorite lexicographer (yes, she has one) read from her new book. The weather? Perfect. The parking? Strangely easy. Her mood? Elevated. All is right with the world.
The store is lovely and the girl easily spots the word nerd friend she's meeting near the front of the room. She sits. She talks. She gleefully laughs at the Dictionary Lady's word jokes. She tries not to laugh too hard because the crowd is small and the chairs aren't sturdy. She enjoys hearing the Dictionary Lady read the chapter of her book that's all about defining one word: take. Even though our middle-aged heroine read the chapter a few weeks ago, it's just as entertaining the second time around.
(Defining "take" took the Dictionary Lady a full month!)
After the reading, Dictionary Lady takes questions (see what I did there?), and the young woman has a bunch. She asks them. She receives good answers. She enjoys other peoples' questions. And then she hears a voice from the back row that gives her pause.
She knows that voice. Wait? Did the voice say he's an architect? Oh shit. It can't be that in a city the size of Pittsburgh, he's one of 20 people at an obscure book reading on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
"I'm pretty sure I dated that guy in college," she whispers to her friend, whose eyes grow round.
The event concludes and folks -- the young woman included -- line up to buy a copy of the book. After chatting with the author, the young woman turns around and confirms that the man in question is, indeed, a dude she dated for roughly six weeks in 1999 after years of pining for him. (Turns out, the pining was the best part. The actual dating was terrible.) Another woman might have tried to slip away unnoticed, but our young lady opts for another course of action. She decides the best way to avoid any awkwardness is to approach him directly and say hello.
Which she does.
And then he doesn't recognize her.
And then she feels like a giant awkward idiot.
She reminds him that they "knew each other from the band" (because "I dated you for six weeks and then it was clear that I'd chosen poorly so I ditched you? And then you showed up at my diploma ceremony and I had to talk to you, and you emailed me about how nice it was to have a civil conversation with me and I replied 'My mother taught me better than to kick your ass while I was wearing heels'" seems like the wrong way to go.). And then the light bulb goes off and he recognizes her.
"Oh," he says, looking not at her hair. "Your hair is shorter."
"Yes, plus I've gained some weight," she replies
The make awkward small talk. She meets his wife. She tells him how nice it was to see him and leaves the store.
Then she feels like she has probably just gotten so fat since 1999 that she's completely unrecognizable, so she goes home and eats cookies.
Readers, that girl was me. And the cookies were chocolate chip and salted caramel. Unlike me, they were memorable.
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