Remember the guy with the yellow t-shirt?
Well, I saw him over the weekend at a brunch. And out of the blue he gave me the shirt.
I was surprised and flattered and I giggled because it brought back all the stuff about how I met him.
And I love that we’ve become friends. That a chance meeting in a coffee shop turned into something lovely.
I learned quite a few things from that yellow t-shirt bumping into oh my gosh chance encounter.
Talk to strangers.
Talk to more strangers.
Put yourself out there.
Don’t be scared.
Also, if they wear terrible t-shirts, tell them.
Trash them. Trash them publicly, trash them privately, trash them any way you want, but trash them. And you’ll be able to tell from their reaction, what kind of person they are.
The guy who used to wear the yellow t-shirt had a sense of humour. He laughed all the way through his public trashing.
Which is the other thing I learned.
Laugh at yourself.
Laugh out loud.
Today I’ve been chuckling.
I woke up this morning and put the shirt on. It’s about a million sizes too big for me. It’s soft. Worn. Cosy.
It feels good.
And I’ve been feeling creative and arty and sexy in my oversized huge shirt. I decided to paint. The shirt is now red and blue and arsenic green and a mess and I love it.
I’m going to tell the guy who used to wear the yellow t-shirt that his shirt is no longer yellow.
That it’s a comfort shirt now.
I think. I know. I hope.