I'm starting a new tradition here at Commander Banana's: Open Letter Mondays (and to give credit where credit is due, this was inspired by McSweeney's "Open Letters to a Person or Entity Unlikely to Respond," which is great, because who doesn't have some stuff of which they would like to unburden themselves? And I'm much, much better at expressing myself through writing than any other way - in writing, I sound somewhat coherent and put together, whereas trying to say the same thing in person would result in a lot of "I don't knows," hand flapping, and agonized shrieks.)
So, without further ado, the first Open Letter:
Open Letter to the Roasted Nut Vendor at the Farmer's Market:
I did not mean to be rude. Neither, I am pretty sure, did my friend. I really did want to peruse your roasted nuts. I particularly like those sugar-crusted almonds that you get in little paper cones at carnivals (or, in the Edenic carnivals of my childhood, you did. Not sure what you get from carnivals these days, but I hope it's curable with penicillin.). So I was kind of hoping you would have those.
But I didn't even get a chance to read the labels, because as soon as we paused by your table, you boomed out "SO, WHO'S THE NUT LOVER?" really loudly.
And we just sort of looked at each other, and I realized there I was no way to answer that gracefully. I couldn't think of a way to extricate myself. Say yes, and pretend I don't notice the double entendre? Say no, and then have to explain why I'm buying nuts if, in fact, I do not love them?
That few seconds was all it took for the moment to descend from the usual, rather awkward exchange you have with someone when you buy something to Completely, Totally Unredeemably Awkward.
I looked at you. I looked at her. I backed away, slowly. We executed a three-point turn and attempted to melt into the crowd (which was hard, because it really wasn't crowded).
The sad thing is, I really did want to buy some nuts from you. Now I can't. It's too weird, and you've ruined it forever.