50 Shades of Awkward

I was born hard of hearing, or else I developed it at a very young age. I grew up in Miami Florida and spent half my days with my head under water. Sometimes that was in a nice clean pool or the Atlantic Ocean, but many times it was in a canal or the kiddie pool that had filled with rain two days earlier.  In any case, it wasn't long before I was sitting in the front of the classroom with teachers smiling down on me like the class's pet hamster. 

Since I already had trouble cultivating a cool or hip persona, (see previous post), I was not eager to share with anyone anything that would make me seem different. Ok, I probably should have thought that through before becoming a safety patrol, but that's not the topic here. 

I do not tell anyone about my hearing deficiency. I simply act like I know what everyone is saying and try to fill in the gaps with a kind of Jedi mind trick polished over decades.  

This does not work in all situations however, mainly when it's one on one. When I say one ON one, and mention the absence of light in the room, you may extrapolate from there that this is not the time you want to be asking, repeatedly, "huh?"

One such incident springs to mind. I was enjoying the company of someone who was very cool and handsome and swell in every way, which meant he thought I was awesome and swell too. We were having such a nice time, all was going so well, until he whispered in my ear. 

My first panicked thought was, he's saying, "please move to the left your crushing my testicle." I checked to make sure that was not happening nor anything similar in nature. Then he whispered again, and it sounded like he wanted me to do something.  What can it be, I wonder? The possibilities in this scenario are fairly endless and yet, you can't just guess, or can you? I did. 

More whispers. Ok, I thought I had it, I try what I thought was a winning move. 

Whisper.

Shit, there are only so many ways you can do this and it's pretty hard to get wrong.  But, you know, a "Huh?" wrongly placed and you've got one pissed off man.

So I said, "me too," figuring that's safe, right? I mean, maybe he's saying how awesome I am. Or it's just sexy boudoir talk. I go with that and make the best of it. 

All seemed to go well, and my happy man trots off to get get us something to drink and I remain in bed, glad I obviously hadn't messed up too badly.

Whisper.

What in the...?  I sat upright and looked under my pillow, at my cell phone.

I was going to have to quit my job because I couldn't possibly look my boss in the eye ever again.