This girl I liked wanted to tell me about an encounter she once had with a B-level celebrity.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I was in line at the airport in Montreal and Celebrity X was in front of me?” she asked.
(It was Russell Brand. It’s always Russell Brand. Everyone I know has been in line in an airport behind Russell Brand at some point.)
“No, you didn’t tell me that one…” I said, wincing.
“Well, it’s an incredible story,” the girl said.
She rubbed her hands together excitedly, in anticipation of her own story. Then she began telling it.
I did not want to listen. Hearing about Celebrity X/Russell Brand would make me like the girl less. How much less? Who knew.
But ballpark? Let’s say that it would not be an insignificant amount.
Like a crazed, slobbering madman, I grabbed the wheel of the conversation and steered it in an entirely new direction. I thought I did this clumsily and obnoxiously, that I’d obviously botched it. To my surprise, the conversation thread drifted naturally in this new direction.
The girl forgot about Russell Brand entirely.
She didn’t bring him up again.
But the ghost of that conversation? It’s still out there. It’s still lurking about in the nether conversation world. One day that conversation will find me, mark my words…