Long ago, on an Island they call ‘Manhattan’ I had a date. This date was with a guy…we’ll call him Ted.
Ted and I got along pretty well. He was cute, funny, nice, easy-going. All qualities that I enjoy in company. I was pretty excited to see him again in the future. Until…
Ted: I don’t want to embarrass you…but you missed a belt loop?
Me: I what?
Ted: A belt loop. On your pants…you missed it in the back.
Me: People actually get embarrassed by that?
At this point, I started running through my head. Should I be embarrassed by that? It seems a weird thing to get embarrassed about…and now that he pointed it out that I SHOULD be embarrassed, now I’m embarrassed that I’m not embarrassed.
We stared at each other blinking.
Me: Well…do they?
Ted: It probably means you’ve been walking around like that all day.
Me: Right. And that’s….embarrassing?
Me: Hm. Ok, if you say so.
That made me wonder…did Ted ever miss a loop in his belt buckle? Did he have some horrifying experience where everyone in middle school pointed and laughed the day he walked into the cafeteria with a chunk of his black leather belt bunched over the loop in his jeans?
It’s just such a stupid thing to get embarrassed about.
Ted: So…you’re not going to fix it?
::blink:: ::blink, blink:: Ok, yeah. This guy definitely has a traumatic belt loop story somewhere in his past.
At this point, I took off my belt and strung it through the one loop I had missed, but left it out of all the others. Then buckled it at my zipper.
Me: There. Happy?
I smiled at him.
Ted: Um, not really. You missed them all.
Me: Nope. Not this one.
I turned around showing him my backside.
Ted: But that looks intentional. And weird.
I knew then that he was not the man for me.