As IF!

We watched Clueless Sunday evening in Ruth & Tim's apartment, but this story is about another evening in front of the television.

Friday evening after eating at Gloria's, we were hanging out at the apartment. Ruth was playing Harry Potter on Wii and the rest of us were watching her cast spells. Jenn and I were sitting on the couch, and in waltzes Ryan, the guy that rode to Chicago along with Jenn and Eric from Minneapolis.

Now, Ryan had showed up at the apartment earlier (unexpected!) and then spent 30 minutes in the bathroom. The ONLY bathroom. As we were all trying to get cleaned up to go to dinner. Ruth was not impressed. Tim was even less so.

So anyway, Ryan waltzed into the room and then plopped himself down between me and Jenn. This is not a big couch, folks. He was definitely invading my personal space, unless he intended to hit on me. But as seating was limited, I decided to try to deal.

We were all chatting away, and then Ruth and I started talking about how we went to the book release party for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the last in the series. I mentioned how we dressed up as professors and had a blast.

And then it happened.

One of the single rudest things ever done in my presence in the last 10 years or so.

Ryan raised his hand to the side of his face, and whispered behind it to Jenn. And then put it down and acted like nothing had happened.

Later Ruth and I would discuss how unbelievable this was, and how Ruth was watching Jenn as it happened, and she even was kind of in shock.

I tried to practice my old coping skill of repeating this mantra: "It's not about you. It's not about you."

In real life, this works great. Just because someone is laughing or whispering doesn't mean it's about me, and as long as it doesn't include pointing in my direction, I can usually handle this quite well. Of course, I've developed this technique about 20 years after the height of its usefulness, but better late than never, right?

However, it was a little hard to believe my mantra with that telling hand raised.

There were two things that made this humiliating little situation bearable:

1) I was not the one committing the faux pas. And believe me, when you put your foot in your mouth as often as I do, ANYONE else's error is considered a success on my part.

2) Ryan was such an immature little boy of 24, and we were all united in our share dislike of him. Of course, he was completely unaware of that fact.

Rarely have I seen anyone ignore social etiquette as blatently and as personally. I'll take a belch or fart any day over a hand-protected whisper.

And just be happy that I had the good grace to overlook it and not draw more attention to your insensitivity. We'll just call it MANNERS. Manners, Ryan. Ryan, Manners. There. Now that you've met, feel free to spend more time together.