Public Service Announcement

Number one reason I am finally admitting that I need glasses, and probably should get contacts: I have no peripheral vision.

I have been holding out for the past three years, thinking I could get away as a mere recreational glasses user. Hey, I'm not getting old, maybe I'm just really trendy! Hornrimmed glasses are so hot right now. It's not like I am an actual nerd, spending 12 hours a day staring into a computer screen doing legal research. It's nerd-chic, right guys?!

No. My need is very real, and I'm coming clean. I was sent a very clear signal tonight that, probably, there is a great evolutional need for the sense of vision, beyond just making sure your food isn't rotten, or watching the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.

The signal was received loud and clear, in a moment of "eureka!" that struck me as many of these moments do: in pursuit of Mexican food. I happened into my neighborhood Chipotle (or Chippies, for those of us who frequent), ravenous, after a rigorous workday of, again, staring at administrative regulations for 12 hours, (admittedly pausing occasionally to *quickly* glance at kitten videos). It was seven thirty, I had just endured one and a half face-punching hours in traffic, and I'll be crystal clear that I was not on the top of my game. But those football sized burritos sang to me from the darkness.

So I'm in line, pondering my burrito future (so many glorious options, and why god why did they have to start putting the calorie amounts up there) and I have that glazed over, moon-faced, starved-since-three expression. I am halfway through the sacred burrito-selection assembly line of wonder when I become aware of another human on my right. But remember, I have no peripherals. So shadowy man-like entity with no face approacheth, and it could be my brother or Jack the Ripper for all my beady, bespectacled rodent eyes can tell. Unfortunately, it was neither. After ordering the largest burrito possible with all the fixin's I go to my right pocket for my moolah and realize that I have been standing next to That Guy I Went To That Dated Party With In College And Probably Made Out With But Promptly Avoided Him For The Last Two Years Of College Out Of Embarrassment And Since Have Forgotten His Name Because Who Keeps Track Of That Shit What Am I Supposed To Keep A List Of All Potentially Awkward Encounters Now?

I meet his eyes and he morphed into a full human. It's too late. He probably saw me when he walked in and witnessed the whole hugely grotesque burrito ordering sequence (extra sour cream, what the HELL is wrong with me??) thinking I was ignoring him. Because I have no peripherals with my effing glasses on, I had no heads up whatsoever, no extra four seconds to magically conjure up a name-face recognition, no time at all to permit the kind of adrenalin-induced flight autoresponse I normally go with. Just straight up mortified panic. I don't know his name. It's already weird. Getting weirder by the second. If I keep staring, he will know I recognize him. He probably has a clue already from my deer eyed, sweat beading dumb head.

I turn my head. Mutely, I hand my card to the cashier and collect my garbage bag full of burrito. Thank god I did not have the peripherals to witness his expression as I power-walked out of that place like a housewife with that swishy, ass-wiggling contained sprint like a little fat kid trying to be first in line at the snow cone stand at the pool but the lifeguard just yelled at him for running. That was me, running away from my weird awkward past. Wow, I've come a long way.