Idiot

Yesterday, I met up with a friend of my twin brothers' during my lunch break. He's likely going to be moving to Boston for grad school at the end of summer, and we've been exchanging emails for about a month or so to try to get to know one another. It'd be great if we remain friends--he'd have a contact in the city/state (he currently lives in Maine), and I'd have a friend who didn't live in the North Shore (one of these days my friends will migrate...).

Anyway, I say this because I felt like it was my duty to introduce him to Boston. I know he's been before, but I still felt that since I'm now a local, I should know all of the secret places to bring him.

And where did I wind up taking him? To SHAW'S on Huntington Ave. Yes. Shaw's. And neither of us needed to buy groceries.

To be fair, we did walk all around Boylston and around Copley Square, but I actually brought him inside Shaw's. THAT was where I choose to say, "Hey, we could go in here and look around." A grocery store.

This happened yesterday, and I still want to bang my head against the keyboard repeatedly. I would, actually, if I knew for sure that no co-worker would walk in on me and immediately refer me to a psychiatrist who deals with masochism.

I am a fun person, I think. I enjoy laughing as much as the next person. I like conversation and verbal debates. I majored in a creative field. Yet as soon as he walked in to meet me, all traces of wit fled my person and rendered me a socially incompetent moron.

I don't even like the Shaw's on Huntington. I don't like Shaw's in general.

I don't think even the knock-off Duck Tours would want to hire me. I clearly have no idea how to enjoy Boston, unless I'm going to a sporting event or play.