Twenty Seven Year Awkward Phase

If you've ever realized that the car parked next to you isn't empty as you originally presumed, but in fact full of people that have just spent the last three and a half minutes watching you do the robot to a John Mayer song, then you know exactly what it's like to be me.  

If you've ever watched Paul Rudd in "I Love You, Man" (or pretty much another Paul Rudd movie) and cringed at his total all-encompassing awkwardness, how he can't seem to squeak out a coherent sentence much less play it cool, then you can relate to a day in my life.

I'm so embarrassingly awkward. I have a hard time talking to people I don't know well and find myself either completely tongue-tied or talking endlessly about nothing. The awkward thing I'm the most famous for is what Josh refers to as my "fade to black".  As in, I'm talking and I realize that: a) I have no idea what I'm talking about, b) that I have been talking entirely too long or c) that the person I'm talking to has absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, so I just sort of mumble something incoherent and stop talking. Just in case you're wondering, this trick never works. People always say "What?" or "I didn't catch that last part" and it takes all of my willpower as an adult not to point over their shoulder and say "What is that?" and run away when they turn to look.

Unfortunately, I'm also physically awkward, which I've always blamed on being tall. I've spent a lifetime not really knowing what to do with my arms and legs and if there's something to trip over, I'll be the first one to do it (even if I'm just tripping over my own feet). Usually, this is where my physical awkwardness and social awkwardness decide to combine forces and I'll say something extra awkward and goofy (like "Whoa, who put my feet there?") to cover up the fact that I tripped. And no, that never works either.

It's a universal truth that everyone in the world goes through an awkward stage.  It's also a universal truth that you eventually get over it. But while everyone else seems to have grown out of their awkward stage, me (and Paul Rudd apparently, although I've watched interviews and real-life Paul Rudd is one of the coolest, non-awkward people ever. Jerk.) are stuck in limbo.. Doesn't being an adult automatically make you less awkward? I'm not a skinny thirteen year old with glasses and braces anymore, so why do I still feel like I am? When will it end?!

I wish I was cool and graceful like whatever the female equivalent of Ryan Gosling would be (Olivia Wilde? Emily Blunt?). In the meantime, I'm the person you can always count on for cringe-worthy moments that probably make you glad that you're not me. And if you're a fan of people who do the robot to John Mayer or the running man to Vampire Weekend, then I will never disappoint.