Imagining a Conversation

I get nervous around attractive people. You waved to me and my palms began to sweat just like they did the time I met Tim Allen at Disneyland when I was thirteen. My initial defence in this situation is to make jokes. I told Tim his fly was down when it wasn’t. He didn’t get it. There wasn’t anything to get. I was thirteen and terribly unfunny. When you approached I made an ill-placed jab at Justin Trudeau’s campaign strategy. You didn’t get it. There was nothing to get. Thankfully you brushed it off and we talked about your photography. I asked you if any of your models ever had nipples shaped like everyday objects like how you can see a toaster or a lute in the clouds. You said no. I excused myself.