...and I'm nervous as heck.
In other news, I asked a girl that I have been chatting to for a few days online out for a coffee, and have had no reply. It's been two days now (with every other reply coming in under 12 hours). I'm not going to call it a definite flop until the end of the week, but I have to admit; I'm not holding out much hope.
I may have made a mistake in asking. She did mention on her profile being 'shy', so I possibly should have waited a bit longer.
The thing is, though, in my defense; I've been finding the majority of the time that trying to have a conversation with girls online is like pulling teeth. I'm aware that not everyone is what can be called 'chatty', and I can live with bad grammar and spelling - I draw the line at 'txt spk, u no wht i mene m8?' - but for goodness sake; when I write a couple of paragraphs, it'd be nice to get a tad more than a single line back in reply!
Anyway, I had this sudden idea that perhaps it would be easier if I could meet them face to face. You know; get them away from their computer and out into the real world and perhaps that might be easier. After all, people are generally different in person than they are online, aren't they? So, impulsively, I asked this girl to meet. Too soon, perhaps, but there you are. What's done is done.
We'll have to wait and see.
I'll keep you posted, both on that, and the hearing test.
Wish me luck (with both)...
UPDATE:
Well, the appointment got off to a fabulous start, when I was ushered into the wrong one.
It took a few moments for either of us to realise the mistake, due to both of us being overly polite and neither of us wanting to rock the boat.
It went like this:
The nice lady bade me to take a seat and get myself comfortable, which I did.
Then she explained that she would be putting drops in, and that they would take a few minutes to work, so I could take a seat in the waiting room and then after the specified time, I would be called back in.
All well and good, or at least so I thought. I had never had a hearing test before, but it made sense for drops to be put in, I supposed, to oil the ears and reduce friction\remove dirt etc.
So I sat good as gold and waited.
She asked me to remove my glasses, which came as a surprise, but – I reasoned to myself – they might be a distraction while the drops were inserted, so…
Once my glasses were off, she tested the machine on my arm, to make sure the pre-drop puff of air was functioning properly. Then she bade me to look straight ahead into a red light. Again, I assured myself, this made sense; looking into a light would focus the mind and keep the head steady while the drops were put in.
Then, she said the words “inserting the first puff now” and my right eye got the most powerful blast of air that it has ever encountered, and it was then, finally, that alarm bells started to ring.
“…um…” I put forth timidly; “this may be a stupid question, but why do you need to put drops in my eyes for a hearing test?”
“A hearing test!? Oh God!” Said she.
And then the truth came out.
I had been under the illusion that I had been called in – early to my delight – to a hearing test.
She had been under the illusion that she was calling me in – late, to her chagrin – to an eye dilation test.
Apologies bounced back and forth between the pair of us as I was ushered back into the waiting room with one eye expertly ‘puffed’ and the other left well alone. Then, once the misunderstanding had been explained we all – that is the optician, a technician, the two receptionists and myself – fell about laughing; much to the nervous bafflement of Mrs. Meers, who had turned up at that point for her dilation appointment over half an hour late.
All was well, in any case. No drops had been wasted, Mrs. Meers had her appointment with no discernible mishaps, and I got given a piece of mint chocolate by way of an apology by the head receptionist, who had been temporarily distracted and not noticed when I was called in by the nice lady optician rather than the nice hearing specialist (who was a man, and had not yet arrived).
Anyway, back in the waiting room, I continued reading my book until the specialist turned up – apologising profusely and blaming overrunning appointments in another clinic, as apposed to the traffic, which was the excuse that the tardy Mrs. Meers had used – and I was called in for my hearing test.
After another giggle over what had happened earlier and a mutual agreement that the mint chocolates the opticians had started to give out with each new pair of glasses were utterly delicious, we got to it.
He asked a few pertinent questions regarding my life and how I found my hearing, which I answered freely and frankly, and then he explained what the test was going to entail. First, he would take a quick look in each ear – no air puffs or drops required – and then an initial screening would follow, which entailed a series of sounds being played through a pair of headphones. My job was to hold still while he took his peek at my ear canals, and then say “yes” after each sound that I heard (or, those that I imagined I MIGHT have heard).
It sounded simple, and it was. My ears were peered into, and pronounced to look “nice and clear” (great), and then the headphones were popped on. I was instructed to look at a picture to my right so that he couldn’t unwittingly distract me, and a few seconds later, the screening began.
It seemed to go very well. I heard almost all of the beeps (or at least I thought I did). Once it was over, I removed the headphones feeling quite optimistic, saying “that was okay, wasn’t it?” and his response was a definite “yep”.
My hearing, he said, fell within the ‘normal range’. It was, he added truthfully, towards the lower end of the range; a little lower than the average for my age-group – he showed me a little diagram to explain this – but it was within it nonetheless, the slight deficiency (he emphasised the word slight) was easily explained by the inherent hearing difficulties within my family and unless I had some sort of accident, it was unlikely to deteriorate any further for any reason other than the general wear-and-tear caused by old age.
In short: I have nothing to worry about.
So there we have it. My hearing is fine.
Yay! =claps hands=
Good-egg.
…Got to say though, my right eye isn’t particularly happy.
Since its unexpected blasting, it has been rather itchy, and hasn't stopped watering.
Oh well.
One can’t have everything, can one?
B.C.B.F.L.B x
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