“OK, your turn.”

I blinked, partially due to the bright sunlight, but also to conceal my surprise. I hadn’t really considered that I’d be expected to volunteer information. Having said that, all three younger people in the conversation had been up front and blasé about their “most embarrassing moments”. Since I turned 40, I’ve been feeling the age gap between me and my younger friends a little more.

It’s all a little more real.

Plus, I don’t have a most embarrassing moment. My entire life is a continuous series of embarrassing moments.

I cast around in my head for something that was:
a) embarrassing;
b) suitable for a mixed audience;
c) something that couldn’t be used against me;
d) amusing;
e) not too revealing.

“Okay, fine, I’ve got just one,” I lied smoothly instantly before one clicked into place. “When I was in secondary school, one of the bullies found out who my crush was, and shouted it out in the middle of a class. The whole school suddenly found out.”
Everyone in the group cringed.
“That’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard,” one of them said.
“Yeah, well, they’re not called bullies for nothing, are they?” replied another.
“Right, that’s mine,” I said, mentally congratulating myself at picking something both embarrassing and inoffensive, and also safe in the knowledge that this was vague enough to be forgettable. They probably have forgotten about it, really.

But I’ll never forget about it and now I can’t stop thinking about how embarrassed I was, and how awkward her life was about to become.

Thanks a lot, memory.