I am so smooth sometimes it hurts. Take the other day for example. I was filming a wedding locally. Everything was going well and I was getting along royally with one of the bridesmaids. We were making serious eye contact throughout the day and as the evening party approached I had made up my mind that I was going to save the last dance for her.One of the services I offer in my wedding packages is called the Diary Room. That is where I find myself a spare, quiet room in the Hotel (usually a broom cupboard), set up a camera and allow guests to leave private messages for the happy couple. On this occasion the bridesmaid offered to help me set up (result!)
As we worked we made small talk – and for a change I did pretty well. Pretty well that is until it all went wrong.
With the room set up the bridesmaid prepared to leave the first message. As she was sitting down she looked up, smiled sweetly and said, “When you’re editing this you will be sure to make me look pretty.” Now, I wasn’t really concentrating, I was adjusting the settings on the camera. So when I thought I heard her say “…make me look prettiER” and replied with an ultra charming, “Ah, now we both know that’s not possible.” You can understand my surprise when she didn’t speak to me again that night. The whole thing was captured on film – but you’ll understand why I don’t youtube it.
Ah well, I tried.
13 comments:
Doh...
I read part 2 and thought, ouch. I found part 1 and thought, you've gotta be kidding me. Really? We all have moments like that. Probably your subconscious letting you know that she (or the "fat girl") wasn't the one.
Found your blog hitting the "next blog" tab. Very cute. And btw, I'd totally secretly wish my name was up on that board too. I wonder how much coffee you actually have to buy to be the customer of the week...
'Doh' and 'Ouch'
Yeah, I may not add parts 3 through 78 at this rate - I think I was hoping for more sympathy than pity. Hey, I have plenty more weddings, and as my sister says 'plenty more bridesmaids' ... and is that a new barista? Must go and introduce myself.
Oh and - thanks for stopping by Naomi - the board thing; I hear its not about how much you spend - its who you know. After my charming weight comment they have barred me from it for life probably.
ok, i'll bite:
awwwwwww, poor darling, sweet sam . . . there, there now.
it's not you, it's THEM . . .
listen, hugh grant eventually made millions with a similar routine, so there's still hope for you.
(how was that?)
you see? there we go. sympathy. and bonus movie star reference. was that so hard people?
But it's such a great story, d you really regret it?!
define 'regret'
of course I don't - but I'm still not showing anyone the actual footage.
show us! show us! show us!
(c'mon david, join me . . .)
I bet it's like wayching a car wreck, you just can't look away.
But do show us!
I like this blog! Without affording this decision too much thought, I'm linking you to my own "ego space."
This is not an endorsement for reciprocation- but rather a compliment on your blog only. :-)
Thank you - I appreciate that. As it happens I have reciprocated - not through some sense of duty to repay a compliment but because you manage to do something I can't - write about teaching on a regular basis. Great stuff Brazen. Oh, and also because your new header is my vision of the perfect teacher.
To everyone who has popped by in the past few weeks. Sorry I haven't added anything recently. When I am able to I will. Thanks for keeping checking.
Ok, Now I'M hooked! What a great story! I've probably done stuff like that WAY more than you have, after all, I'm old as dirt. Maybe I should just stand there and try to look pretty. Yikes.
I feel badly for you. Were you ever able to smooth it over?
I just noticed you'd left a response here Karen - slipping a late comment in when everyone's gone?
Was I able to smooth it over? Funny thing - about six weeks later I was in a play. After the show we headed to the pub (as usual.) We had it almost to ourselves except for three members of the same family. And guess who the daughter was.
At one point, although the place was empty, she brought them over and sat at the table next to us. We were sitting next to each other on the same bench... and didn't speak.
Did she remember me? Did she want me to speak to her. I have no idea. If she did recognise me she made put up a good pretence of not noticing me. Either way that's how the story ends.
Oh, and clearly the soil in your dirt in your area is a lot younger than ours. You're not that much older than I am - and even so, I don't think it's something we grow out of.
Post a Comment