The phone just rang. Here is a recap of the conversation:
Man on other end: "Hello?"
Man: (Kind of sultry): "Hey..."
Me: "Who's this?"
Man: "This is Demetric."
Me: "I don't think I know you, I think you might have the wrong number."
Demetric: "I know, right?"
He actually said that. I am not making this up.
Demetric: "You see, I can't figure it out, I have this number on my arm, and I just took a shower."
Me: "Oh...well I didn't write my number on anyone's arm..."
Demetric: "Yeah, I think I might have a wrong digit."
Me: "Well, I definitely didn't go out anywhere last night, so I don't think it could have been me."
Demetric: "Yeah, [laughs], it wasn't last night...Well you sound very nice, though."
Me: "Oh, thank you."
Me: "Well, I hope you figure it out!"
Demetric: "Thanks, have a good night."
Me: "You too."
My friend Caleb told me recently that I am not afraid of anyone.
Nick and I were shopping this January and this man came out of the dressing room and immediately started talking to me; I heard him before I could even turn around to see him. He asked me if I could give him some advice on some shirts he was trying on. I asked what he was shopping for, he explained it was for an interview. I asked what type of business, what would his dress code be were he to get the job (like a good, well trained HR manager's daughter should do). I then assessed shirt number 1, waited as he changed, then assessed shirt number 2.
Meanwhile, I was hoping for fashion-conscious Nick to chime in to help out not-so-fashion-conscious Me, but Nick does not enjoy talking to strangers so he pretended to be looking at a jacket nearby. The man was very grateful, thanked me. As we walked away Nick informed me that I had made the wrong choice, that the other shirt looked better on him. I asked Nick where he had been 30 seconds prior in offering such opinion. But right before he told me what he thought of the shirt, he shook his head and said, "What is it about you?..."
Earlier that day we had been at lunch with two friends, a woman who is very outgoing like myself, and her husband, not so outgoing. The men were discussing how they really hate to be forced to talk to people, and I said "I can talk to anyone," and Marcia nodded in agreement, that she too could do the same.
Just now when Demetric called, I honestly wondered if he was my friend Zabu, who I met in the library last year. I was filling out a job application, Zabu was studying for the GED. He asked for a pencil. And somehow, 30 minutes later, I was writing down my email address so Zabu could come to church with me that Sunday. And he came. And the people at my church said, "Oh, Zabu, it's nice to meet you, how do you know Bailey?" And we explained about ten times that we had met three days before in the library. And now we're friends.
This is my life, people. I don't know why I am this way. It's just the way it is. Meanwhile, I get to meet people like Zabu, dressing room guy, and, most recently, my new pal Demetric. So Demetric, if you're reading this, Nice to meet you.