Wow, No Thank You
Samantha Irby has no fear sharing some embarrassing moments from her life with anyone willing to relive the moment with her. In her book, Wow, No Thank You, she is very open about some very unfortunate—and ultimately very funny—moments. She inspired me to share an embarrassing moment of my own.
I work with physicians in a professional capacity and frequently have one-on-one meetings to discuss various aspects of their medical practices. Over time, we often establish a more personal relationship where we ask questions about each other’s personal lives and take an interest in each other outside the business relationship.
On one particular occasion, I was meeting with an older physician with whom I had a good relationship. We would discuss our business matters and then we would chat about traveling, religion, family life, etc. On this specific day, he asked me if I was dating anyone. He complimented me and said I was so smart and thorough and deserved someone really special. This caught me off guard a little bit. I was dating someone and I was smart and I did have someone really special, but I assumed he most likely wouldn’t approve of the person I was with.
Very few of my professional relationships have amounted to more than that. We can be casual and friendly and even semi-personal, but my dating life is mostly off-limits. It’s not that I cared so much about whether or not it was going to be accepted, but due to possible cultural differences, it was just a conversation I didn’t want to have with the majority of these older, foreign-born men.
So I tell the doctor I am dating someone and he smiles and says, “Good, good, I’m glad. What’s his name?” And this is where I absolutely panic. My “boyfriend” is 5’4, slender, with long brown hair, and hazel-colored eyes. My “boyfriend” wears the same size 7.5 shoe as me and we share clothes sometimes. My “boyfriend.”
I have a million thoughts and images flash through my mind during the four seconds it takes me to come up with the name of my “boyfriend.”
“His name? Mervin.” I say it with so much confidence that it both surprises and confuses me and I immediately regret the sound of my own voice. “Mervin?” he asks, puzzled. “Yes.” And that is the end of that conversation. He says nothing else and I say nothing else. I can’t get out of that room fast enough. Now, not to be offensive to anyone named Mervin if that actually is a name that exists outside of my panic-stricken imagination, but come on. I don’t say Mike or Tom or John or Dan. I don’t even say no to the boyfriend question. I just say “Mervin.”
I get out to my car and I immediately call my girlfriend and I’m trying to tell her the story of what just happened, but I can’t get the words out between my bouts of laughter. When I am finally able to breathe long enough to tell her the story, she is in hysterics.
My beard’s name is Mervin.