Imagine Dean and you being caught in an embarrassing position...
It was only a quick trip, a quick supply stop for ingredients to make a meal for later. You didn’t bother putting on a bra because you had a baggy shirt on and to be perfectly honest, the shop was only a very short drive.
You hopped out the car and pulled up your hoodie tight around you. Grabbing a basket, you grabbed just a few essentials, no one had been in your house for a while as you’d been on hunts for a few weeks so you thought you deserved a good meal. You wandered down the fridge aisle and stopped in front of the dairy products, yoghurt was a guilty pleasure which you rarely bought on the road so it sounded good.
You opened the door and reached for the yoghurt, it was then that time moved in slow motion. Your hand accidentally grazed a tub of sour cream which fell onto the hard floor and split open. You looked down and groaned, it splashed over the bottom of your boots, but more worryingly, up your inner leg of your jeans all the way to your knee. Letting out a few profanities under your breath, you tried to get a better look without spreading it everywhere.
There was no tactful way of saying it, it looked a little like something else that could be found coming from a male and with another grimace, you realised there was no way of cleaning it in a hurry… To say you were embarrassed by this point was an understatement but no one had seen you yet, so a quick thinker you were, thought you’d shout for help… except all you really did was shout was a strangled, “Oh god!”
Just as you’d resigned yourself to a cheese and chive dip fate, a man poked his head around the corner and instantly burst out laughing and said, “aw man, you fucked up.”
You were about to comment back when you made eye contact with the man and another wave of embarrassment washed over you.
“Wait… Y/N?” He scoffed, letting out another bigger laugh.
“Don’t even…” you closed your eyes and let out a laugh of your own, “one of those days, I guess… I think I need a tissue.”
At that point he walked over and put down his basket to kneel down to pick up the spilled pot of sour cream, “what the hell did you even-”
He stopped talking as a couple of people came around the corner… there was no way to move out of the incriminating looking position, Dean’s head level with your crotch and kneeling in front of you with ‘whatever’ down your leg. The angle couldn’t have been worse and if the ground could have swallowed you in that moment, you would have welcomed it with open arms. He jumped back, with sour cream dip still in hand and flashed them a cheeky smile.
I’m pretty awkward when it comes to strangers and flirting….
But tonight there was a pretty cute bartender and my cousin ( harley-reads) and Jackie talked me up to him and it was all going well…
Until I came back from the bathroom, introduced myself and then got talking about his tattoos.
He had a goats head on his forearm and I fucking baaed out loud. Imitating a damn goat out of pure instinct. I don’t know why. Instant regret. I left and didn’t return. Eternal embarrassment. I’m never leaving the house again. What have I done….
Saw two patients of mine at Local Catfish Joint this weekend.
My family shared a table with one. We chatted with him about the weather and the food.
The other was right behind me and I could hear her talking loudly about how much she loved her doctor (my partner who has retired and left all her patients to me). She did not say a word about me. A month ago, I convinced the patient and her cardiologist both that she was having unstable angina even though she had very atypical symptoms. She ended up having a new 90% occlusion which brought immediate relief of her symptoms once it was stented. I have seen her at least 3 times in the office. I’ve walked her through a major health ordeal. As I was leaving, she looked me right in the face. I waved. She did not wave back or show any sign of recognition.