Myrrh is a school teacher. One thing (of many different things) she teaches is singing, and in conjunction with that, she began conducting a barbershop quartet last year. The quartet (I'm certain it had more than 4 people in it) sang the national anthem at a Washington Nationals Hockey game last year. Since I am an avid hockey fan (by which I mean I go and remind myself repeatedly that hockey players have no teeth and have been concussioned too many times), I went along for moral support and to handle the pictures. Well, this happened a long time ago, and thankfully I have a very poor memory. The man who handled making everything flow smoothly was tall and wearing a suit (both strong selling points), and was obviously pleased to be facilitating for someone as young and nice-looking as Myrrh. Of course, my matchmaking urges (which really, as you will see, ought to be suppressed under all circumstances) started cropping up. So I mischievously said, "Myrrh, what if I slide that guy your phone number?" She didn't exactly say yes, but she didn't say no, either. So, I wrote it out on a little piece of paper (I hope I gave him your cell and not our apartment number!). But when the moment came, I totally chickened out (I'm all talk). When I confessed this to Myrrh, she said coyly, "I really wouldn't mind that you didn't give him my number, except that you said you would."
Well of course, that was next door to a dare, which we know I'm pretty bad at refusing (at the expense of swallowing a plum pit and nearly tearing my esophagus [and then how would I be able to talk!]). So of course, I flipped my hair, marched right up to the tall man in a suit and said who knows what (I do remembering to have to repeat it about three times because I was nervous and he couldn't hear me) and shoving her number into his poor, tall, suit-wearing hand. Myrrh and my conclusion was that my performance needed work (unlike her barbershop). He never called, due, I'm sure, to my awkwardness as opposed to Myrrh's milkshake.
And while I regret giving up the opportunity to end with the riveting words, "Myrrh's milkshake," I think it makes the story even more interesting to hear it from two perspectives, so here's Myrrh's:
Here's the story as I remember it. You were watching him watch me as we rehearsed, and came up with this idea. Then, during a lull, you showed me the piece of paper with my name and number on it (already written out), and (with an extremely excited face) told me, "I'm going to give it to him!" You're right - while incredulous and very amused, I didn't technically forbid you from going ahead with the plan, and when we were leaving and you told me you had chickened
out, I did point out that you'd said you would do it.
And while I regret giving up the opportunity to end with the riveting words, "Myrrh's milkshake," I think it makes the story even more interesting to hear it from two perspectives, so here's Myrrh's:
Here's the story as I remember it. You were watching him watch me as we rehearsed, and came up with this idea. Then, during a lull, you showed me the piece of paper with my name and number on it (already written out), and (with an extremely excited face) told me, "I'm going to give it to him!" You're right - while incredulous and very amused, I didn't technically forbid you from going ahead with the plan, and when we were leaving and you told me you had chickened
out, I did point out that you'd said you would do it.
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