So I had a really bad day a few weeks ago (insert tiny violin melodies here). To make a long story short, I was stressed out and depressed, and just wanted to have a nice, restful night at home on the couch watching crappy TV. Nothin’ like some mindless MTV to get my mind off of things.
My plan was going smoothly when there was a knock on the door. Nobody knocks on our door. None of our friends are ever “just in the neighborhood” enough to decide to stop by and give us a friendly knock. People don’t do that anymore. They call or text when they want something, they don’t just show up. This is why we know that the only people who come to our door are those who are selling stuff or wanting us to sign something.
Trying to turn on the pleasant ‘tude a bit as I answer the door and listen to this particular solicitor proceed to give me his speech about whatever charity he was raising money for, I started to come around. “Self,” I thought, “Solicitors spend a lot of time and energy asking people for money because they believe in their cause and want to help people/raise awareness/get college credit, etc. Why not help a brother out and support his cause? It doesn’t matter how rough of a day I’m having, I can turn it all around right here! Give this dude some cash!”
So, feeling the high of generosity one gets when doing a good deed, I hand the guy the $10 or whatever, and as he was leaving, he did it. He asked the worst question you could possibly ask a woman:
“Are you having a boy or a girl?!”
Shocked, I look down at the dress I was wearing, a short little empire-waist cutie from Target, and say: “Um…. Neither?” (He hurriedly backs away at this point.)
And then, sensing the awkwardness between us, I chuckle nervously, make a small waving gesture with my hand and say, “Oh, it’s just the style.” And then I close the door and have one of those loud, uncomfortable if-I-don’t-laugh-I’ll-cry laughs for about 5 full minutes.
I haven’t worn the dress since.
