Walking to the garage this morning, I bumped into my next door neighbor who, yes, I live directly next to (in an apartment building), but don't see that much. And, yet, because I'm super awkward and feel the need to create chitchat with everyone I encounter instead of just saying "Morning!" or "Yes, I'm over 21," I, of course, decided to strike up a conversation with her.
(Yesterday at Trader Joe's the cashier asked me if I was over 21. Instead of just saying "yes" like a normal person, I announced exactly how old I was, then freaked out and told him that if I'm that old, I probably shouldn't be announcing my age. Then he told me we're only as old as we feel, which is something only a 22 year old would say, and then we both admitted we feel 12, and then I told him that I was going house-boating and everyone was responsible for a meal and I can't cook, so I picked sandwiches. Then I also told him that all 6 bottles of wine were for me and that I wasn't sharing. SERIOUSLY. That is the conversation I had during the two minutes of checkout. Frankly, I'm surprised I didn't ask him if he wanted to be Facebook friends. I have a problem.)
Anyway, so my neighbor and I are both walking to the garage and I decide that even though it's morning and we're clearly both late, it's a perfect time to chat.
"Your hair looks great," I say.
She looks at me kind of quizzically. Which I, of course, take as a sign that I should keep talking.
"Were your bangs always like that or is that something you just did?"
Still looking at me oddly.
"I mean, were they always that short? I really like them."
Finally she replies, "I'm bald. I wear a wig."
Me: *finally speechless*
"I just assumed everyone knew!"
And then, because I cannot be stopped, "WOW. GREAT WIG! I love it! Do you wear a lot of different wigs?" Because, you know, I don't live right next door and see her in the hallway and stuff.
"I'm actually trying to get up the courage to just go bald," she tells me.
"OH. YOU TOTALLY SHOULD," I say (and then write on the blog that I said that, effectively ruining the chances that any of you will ever take advice from me again).
"I'm just nervous about how people will react."
At which point, I come up with my most sensitive response ever. "Oh, I doubt anyone will even say anything."
And so on and so on and so on. Until she was literally IN HER CAR TRYING TO PULL OUT OF THE GARAGE and I was still talking. About the fact that she's bald.
But instead of being mortified as I backed out of the driveway, I couldn't help but wonder:
Complimenting my neighbor's hair only to learn she's bald and wears a wig. Better or worse than when I told the guy, "Your cock feels so good" only to learn he'd already pulled out?