When I was in college, my great aunt lived nearby. I would visit her on occasion because she made the most awesome food ever.
Once when I visited, she was hosting a French exchange student named Yann. Or Yonn. I never knew how to spell his name.
Anyhow, my great aunt suggested that we both walk to the mall together. I’m not sure why. Maybe she just wanted to get rid of us.
Now there’s something you need to know about me. I am a terrible conversationalist. As in crickets chirping during the silence that inevitably sneaks in during dates. Or just plain comes blasting in right from the beginning. (The silence comes blasting. Which doesn’t make sense, I know).
SO ANYHOW, to combat this problem, I came armed with a story. This was the same story I tried to work into every situation where I could sense that communication was going downhill. It was the story of when I crashed on my bike when I was 11 years old.
Yes, it was a great tale of face-planting into asphalt while going down a hill as fast as my little bike could go. The story began with a great description of my desire to catch up to all my friends, and the gravel, and my knowledge of my impending doom, and the subsequent trip to the hospital, and my ruined nose.
So, thinking that this story would save the uncomfortable situation that had developed between myself and Yann (or Yawn–ha ha) I said to him, “So, have you had any major accidents?”
Admittedly, not the best conversation starter. Yann thought so too. In fact, he was utterly offended by the question.
“What kind of a question is zis?” he asked. “Why do you ask me zis question, ‘Have you had any major accidents?'” But he said it in a low, stilting tone like this: “Have. You. Had. Any. Major. Ac. Ci. Dents?”
He went on and on, clearly making his disgust known. When I was able to finally talk, I said, “I’m sorry! I was just trying to make conversation!”
Later that night at my great aunt’s house, we were washing dishes together in the sink. This was because my aunt always made a ten-course dinner which resulted in 5000 dishes that had to be hand-washed.
As we were fore-arm deep in sudsy water, he says in a supercilious tone, “So, do you have any bad diseases? I’m just trying to make conversation.”
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