I Am a Dork. Big Time.

I can't keep my dorkitude a secret. It comes out most times when I open my mouth. And then there are the times when I shouldn't be let out in public without a chaperone that will clamp my mouth shut at just the right time.

Years ago I was working at a company that had a cafeteria in the building. My co-worker Kristin and I went to get lunch one day. I said to her, "I am going to check out the soup." She didn't say anything back. For some reason I'd just assumed she'd follow me to check out the soup too. I mean, why wouldn't she? This is my story, after all. I am the main character, and the other characters are supposed to hover around me at all times.

Not so. Kristin, a person in real life and not a character in this story, went to the salad bar. But I swore she was just behind my left shoulder. After all, she was wearing a white shirt that day. She's tall and has dark hair. I turned to Kristin and put on my best Homer Simpson voice and said something scintillating like "Lentil soup.... uh huh huh huh..."

Of course, it wasn't Kristin standing there. Of course it was some impossibly handsome man. And of course he looked at me as if I was a complete weirdo. Because why wouldn't he? Then this is the part where the main character of the story says something very witty that intrigues the impossibly handsome man. Then he woos me with floral arrangements, and we end up together under a setting sun.

My witty response didn't come out so well. Mouth dry, I let out a squeak of some sort and then ran away from impossibly handsome man. I found Kristin selecting lettuce, and I immediately doubled over in laughter. Then of course I had to tell her what happened. And she laughed too. Then all of our co-workers laughed back at the office just after she finished the sentence starting with "Guess what Beej did at lunch today..." They all leaned in to listen, because I am always doing or saying something dorky. For months I was asked whether I wanted to go to the cafeteria to get some lentil soup.

Just the other day I was driving home from work. I stopped in at the convenience store at the truck stop to get an ingredient for dinner. There were a few people milling around near the cash register. The radio in the store was blasting and they were talking about the music. I joined the conversation, and a few minutes later s Sheryl Crow song came on.

I hate Sheryl Crow's music. I have often wondered how the hell she managed to get so famous with that scratchy and whiny voice of hers.

"Ugh. Sheryl Crow," I groaned. "She makes my teeth itch."

One of the men I was talking to laughed, "Makes my teeth itch? That's a good one. I'll have to remember that..."

The kicker? When the man opened his mouth to laugh he had one tooth in his mouth. One.

And then I may have let out a squeak and ran out of the store.