Who, me?
Clutching my lemonade nervously and acting as though I don't see the camera?
Why no, I never behave awkwardly. Why ever would you ask? I make a fool out of myself so often that, when asked (why
does this subject come up so often in my presence?) I can never pick out just one.
I just read a
story that kick-started a super-awkward college memory, though. From here on out, I may have a pat answer to that "what's your most embarrassing moment?" question.
In college, everyone of the male persuasion had a nickname of sorts. Whether it derived from a major (Beaker), a memorable feature (diminuitive Doug became D. Low), a hometown (Rock Thrill), or no apparent reason at all (Scuba?), the names stuck.
I was never more grateful to be a girl; the only nicknames given were "sweet pea," "love," or, for the very lucky, "
rush crush."
Coming to college, guys must know that nicknames are part of the deal. Some were laughable, others un-repeatable, but everyone just seemed to go along with whatever nonsensical moniker got tossed their way.
My junior year, I became friends with a particularly sweet fraternity pledge nicknamed "Baby," presumably for his just-out-of-high-school face. Precious, right? And hardly cringe-worthy.
As I am wont to do, I chatted up Baby at a variety of events. Pledges seemed to get the short end of the stick, so I felt compelled to be as nice to him as possible. (And since I was technically taken, I knew it wouldn't be perceived the wrong way.)
After a month or two, Baby's hometown girlfriend came to visit for a tailgate; I couldn't have been more excited. She needed to know how well-liked her boyfriend was and how often (and sweetly) he spoke of her.
"Baby," I exclaimed upon meeting her, "she is even cuter than you described! What a -"
Halfway through my estrogen-induced squeal, she stopped me coldly. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"
I repeated myself, but evidently it wasn't the
statement that bothered her - it was the
nickname.Turns out
I was the only one calling said pledge "Baby." The rest of the gang was calling him, with little fanfare, by his last name:
Beatty.
I can't blame the girl for being a little miffed, upon driving several hours to visit her long-distance boyfriend, at hearing some older gal call her boyfriend "baby" so brazenly.
I
can, however, blame the handful of snickering guys around him who knew I'd been calling him "Baby" and just enjoyed watching him blush, too shy to correct me.
Lesson learned: Double check nicknames before you repeat them or, better yet, leave them to the boys entirely....