i was in middle school and went to olive garden with my parents. the waiter had one of those voices that…you know, that men in the gay community normally have.
and so they had this soup on the menu i wanted called pasta fagioli that i wasn’t sure how to pronounce and also i had social anxiety
and it didn’t go well
In high school, I had a red corduroy coat. I adorned it with patches. I glued Celtic jacquard ribbon to it at the cuffs and hems. I added brass stars and studs to it. I wore it to school and felt really cool. In my mind, I was a wizard.
I’ve never been afraid to stand out, but I’ve learned to do it more judiciously.
in your defense that sounds awesome. the people who gave you shit for dressing creatively are the cringe
Hell yeah. No harm in being proud of yourself!
I’m dying laughing at the image in my head about your scenario.
Gay Waiter: And what do you want? You: I want some pasta fag.
Being told, by my classmates, that the tooth fairy isn’t real with me fervently claiming otherwise. Thanks a lot mom and dad, you were too convincing.
“I really don’t think of you, or Twilight Sparkle, in that way.”
(A flirty acquaintance had sent me unsolicited erotic My Little Pony fanart.)
If the cringiest moment of your life is pronouncing it fag-e-oli, you have had very little cringe in your life.
I’m refusing to recall my own cringe, but I empathize with this guy.
