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In the winter of 2008, I was working a seasonal gig at Borders, already discussed in some detail in the story of the LARPer. Actually it wasn't Borders per se, it was a calendar kiosk they rented in Lakeline Mall. As I also discussed in some detail in the story of the LARPer, I—along with the LARPer—like Doctor Who quite a bit. I wouldn't say I'm as avid a fan as the LARPer was: He had the theme music set as his ring tone, while I draw the line at listening to covers of it on my iPod. I also didn't participate as actively in our discussions of the show, though I have seriously considered knitting myself a Doctor Who scarf or at least a stuffed Dalek. Anyway, I've always been fond of Doctor Who, from watching Tom Baker reruns as a kid all the way through the Christopher Eccleston series in the early 2000s. I was sorry to hear Eccleston was leaving until I found out that the very good looking David Tennant was taking over. I still rather prefer Eccleston's version of the Doctor, but Tennant grows on me more and more. So, one day I was working with the LARPer in the calendar kiosk in the mall. Usually only one person worked in the kiosk, but it was a Saturday near Christmas, so there were two of us there to cope with the masses of people. I was standing at the register with the LARPer when I saw two guys walking by. Normally, in a Christmas crowd, this would be totally unwarranted, but one of the guys was dressed exactly like David Tennant as the Tenth Doctor, and he was just about as cute. He had the same mussed dark hair, dark eyes, and good bone structure. Anyway, this guy looked like Doctor Who. He had on a big brown overcoat, a dark suit, and red sneakers; and he also had the aforementioned slightly unruly dark brown hair and dark-rimmed glasses. I pointed him out to the LARPer, who looked accordingly and approved. Assuming, naturally, that the guy had dressed like Doctor Who on purpose, I went up to him and promptly made a total ass of myself. "Hey, Doctor Who!" I said. "What?" "Um—You look like Doctor Who. I mean. You're dressed just like him." "I'm sorry?" "What? You know, the show, Doctor Who?" "No." "Um . . . " Not convinced that he didn't know what I meant, I pressed on. "The British science fiction show [here I began to realize I was revealing myself to be a total dork] about the time traveler?" " . . . " "He's called Doctor Who." " . . . " " . . . Um . . . and he dresses just like that." "Really?" Yes, really. Believe me, I couldn't make that up. "Yeah." " . . . I never heard of that." "What?!" "No, I never heard of that." "Oh . . . It comes on every Saturday night at eleven on PBS," I explained, fully realizing now that I was botching this catastrophically. Did I really have to admit I watched PBS on Saturday nights? Oh well. Doctor Who stared. "And . . . um . . . well . . . [the LARPer]"—here I pointed at the LARPer, who was watching in amusement—"and I were just saying you looked exactly like him." "That crazy [LARPer]," said Doctor Who's friend. "I um . . . should get back to work." I blushed and went back to work, mentally face palming. Doctor Who left as quickly as he could without running. The LARPer teased me mercilessly forever afterwards. "You embarrassed him," he said. "What?" "You scared him off." "Well I know that," I said. "But why would he be embarrassed?" "Because of him looking like Doctor Who. You called him on it in public, and he was embarrassed." "What?" "I really don't think he wanted anyone to say anything." "But if he dressed like Doctor Who in public," I argued, "surely he did it to get attention. Wouldn't he take it as a compliment for someone to say he looks like Doctor Who? Wasn't that what he was going for?" "Possibly, but not like that." "What do you mean?" "I mean you were in your hyper squirrel mode." " . . . I didn't know I had a hyper squirrel mode." "Me neither. But anyway, that scared him off." "Why was he scared exactly?" I was confused and suspicious. "Well," the LARPer explained, "he thought you were making fun of him." "Why would I? I thought it was obvious I meant it as a compliment." "That's not how he interpreted it. He's a geeky guy, and he's used to being made fun of." "How do you know?" "Well, he was dressed like Doctor Who." "Yes, but surely the people who'd make fun of him for dressing like Doctor Who don't even know who that is." "True, but as a geeky guy, he gets made fun of for other things, or used to in high school. So he's sensitive about it." I suspected this was all bullshit. "Or maybe he was just gay." "Or maybe he was just gay." "Or not single, or not from around here . . . What would you have done?" I asked. "If a cute girl ran up to me and started a conversation, I'd try to get her number." "But he didn't." "Well, yeah, he was scared and thought you were making fun of him." I sighed. "But, yeah, if it were me and a random cute girl ran up to me and started a conversation and seemed remotely interested in me, you bet I'd talk to her and try to get her number." "Maybe he really had never heard of it before," I said doubtfully. "He probably went home and Googled it and went 'aw fuck.'" I laughed. "And now he's going to throw away his awesome brown coat just because of me. . . . I don't believe for one minute he'd never heard of Doctor Who." "He might come back." "I sure hope so." I really really really wanted Doctor Who to come back later and get my number, but of course he never did. A couple of weeks afterward, I started going out with PAG, which was not for the best at all. A couple of months after that, I managed to get somewhere with the One That Got Away, which was for the best. I still kick myself for my astounding lack of social grace. *sigh* |