The awkward diaries

A generalized theme of a lot of the blogs I read are awkwardness. Not uncomfortable awkwardness, but a true acknowledgement that sometimes we’re kind of awkward in social situations. I’m no different. I have more than my fair share of awkward moments. One thing that I’ve never really been able to get a handle on in my adult life is making friends. So, I present to you three very awkward semi-friend situations that I’ve encountered.

Elevator Girl

In 2009 my husband and I moved from the ‘burbs (shudder) to downtown Calgary (hooray for downtown!). We had purchased a condo and moved in right before Stampede in 2009. Taking the elevator two or three mornings a week a girl roughly my age would get on the elevator from the floor below me. Obviously since we saw one another a few mornings a week, we started talking and I even remembered to get her name (I’m really bad with getting people’s names). We’d chat the length of the elevator ride (probably about a minute depending on the number of stops along the way) and then go our separate ways to work.

This continued for quite some time. I found out about her boyfriend, she found out we were trying to sell our condo, so on and so forth. I thought she was really cool, but could never get the balls to actually invite her to do something outside of work. I feel like this was all so much easier in kindergarten. I was the queen of walking up to someone cool (because obviously I only select cool people to be my friends) and asking them to be my friend.

Boom. Done.

Can someone tell me why this isn’t acceptable at 30?

I mean really. A guy can walk up to a girl at a bar, or wherever, and make some asinine comment and expect said girl to sleep with him, or stomp on his foot (Note: I’m the foot stomping type) but I can’t suggest a glass of wine after work with a person who I think would be an awesome friend. C’mon.


I’ve been seeing my chiropractor since the winter of 2009. During that time I was articling at a large CA firm and was ridiculously stressed. It turns out that working 14 hours a day causes that. Anyway. During that time I thought it might be a good idea to see someone about my back because I was spending my day placing heating packs at A-535 on my back all freaking day at work. Yeah, I was a treat smelling like A-535 all day at work, I tell ya.

Depending on how well I’m doing, I’ll see my chiropractor one a week or one a month (or somewhere in between). I’ve seen her through two pregnancies (she only ever took six weeks mat leave with each of her kids; I’d be taking the full year! Canada, FTW!) and the moving of her office. She’s seen me through buying our condo, writing (and passing!) the UFE, buying and selling rabbits, acquiring two cats, my separation, three jobs and training for countless races. We also talk shopping and fashion because she’s awesome like that. (Was there a doubt I’d pick someone who wasn’t awesome as my chiropractor?!).

But, it’s kind of awkward to suggest a social activity to someone who as not only worked on my back, but has stripped my hairy legs (I’m awful at remembering to shave them. Sorry for that mental image) and massage my butt. Yup. My butt. What? I’m a runner, sometimes that shit gets tight.

Massage therapist

My massage therapist is a bit of a different story. I have a monthly massage membership, which for $75/month gives me a 60 minute massage. I love massages. Love them. I’m also very picky about massages. I don’t want to be paying $75 an hour for some glorified back rub. I run and I sit at a desk all day, I have tight muscles and I need that shit worked out, so I want a good massage.

In February of this year I found my awesome massage therapist. When I started my new job in April, I had a lot of money in my health account to use before it rolled over at the end of June, so I booked a massage nearly every week. What? They were free. You’d totally do it too and you know it.

Normally I’m not much of a talker during massages, but for some reason, she didn’t annoy me AND was a great masseuse. Of course, seeing someone week after week for an hour results in the building of a relationship. One day I had mentioned to her that my jaw was bothering me and she offered to massage my jaw – and THEN she suggested massing IN MY MOUTH to release my jaw.

Yeah, okay, it sounds super weird, and I was super self conscious of possibly having bad breath (my anxiety mediation causes dry mouth, so I’m really nervous about possibly having bad breath and I chew a LOT of gum) but I went for it. And? It was the weirdest and most amazing thing ever. Seriously.

So, tell me, what’s the protocol for suggesting getting together for coffee to someone who has had her finger in your mouth?

I’m seeing her for the first time since May on Thursday and I’m pretty pumped. She moved offices and I’ve been travelling and I know I’m in need of a massage in a BAD way. And I sure as heck could use a jaw massage…

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4 thoughts on “The awkward diaries

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