Quotes About Awkwardness

Thank you," she whispered. Thank you? He went still. It was exactly the wrong thing to say. He didn't want to be thanked for his kiss.

She had no idea how to deal with the poor man. He wasn't very bright, but he also wasn't unkind, and though she knew she had to somehow put an end to his infatuation, she was finding it far easier to take the coward's way out and simply avoid him.

I never really wanted to be a singer, because I was a super-shy kid. Singing made me feel awkward, and I was really insecure.

I was very much a late bloomer. That's not to say that girls didn't express interest in me from time to time, but I just, I did not know how to respond to that.

It's weird, for me as a fan, to have a fan tell me that I'm their favorite singer. It's still a little awkward for me. I love to hear it, but I don't know how to respond to it. It's a very awkward thing to interpret what somebody else sees in me.

I am really bad at actually interviewing people.

Admitting that Katie had taken too much blood was on par with saying an adult human had pooped their pants or eaten their own boogers!

I reached and gave him a hug. Both arms around him. Both hands, on his back. At the same time. And then I didn't know what to do. Should I let go? Should I back away? Should I keep waiting for him to hug me back? How many Mississippis did I hug for? Eli's chest shook. Again. "Babe?" His voice was quivering and strained. I realized he was laughing. "You frozen in horror? Trying to figure out what to do now that you got me in a strangle move?" "Pretty much.

Although Morgan has been seeing Jenna for nearly a year, I'm still unsure of the etiquette where her underwear is concerned. Should I pick it up delicately – with eyebrow tweezers, perhaps – and seal it in a clear plastic bag, like evidence from a crime scene? Tentatively, as if it might snap at my ankle, I nudge it into the corner of the bathroom with the toe of my shoe

REVISITING THE LIST 1. Kiss Estelle Okay, at least I've met her. She thinks I'm a creep. And that's withought her knowing I've read her diaries. Unless we somehow fall over, exactly aligned, lip to lip, and gravity causes the pressure, or we find ourselves in a darkened room and through a series of Shakespearian ID muddles she thinks she's kissing someone else, I can't say how this is ever going to happen.

I have to try hard—but I do succeed—to not burst out laughing when he compares my breasts to a perfectly cooked creme brulee—'souple mais ferme.

I was sad and lonely...but it was due to my own awkwardness..so I could stand it... and I even got used to it.

He got down on one knee and begged Nikky's forgiveness while everyone in the office gathered around laughing and clapping—it was so cute—and really, you know, that's what it took with Nikky! My own hands clapped mechanically, but I thought What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck . . . this, again, directed at me rather than them. I

I said I looked like a dork and she said that was true, but there was something classic about my dorkiness. I was so open and my awkwardness and embarrassment were so clear and understandable. I was extremely watchable.

I question the value of name tags as an aid to future identification. I have approached too many people who have spent the entire evening talking to my left bosom. I always have the insane desire to name the other one.

The receptionist wore a hideous wig and looked at us as though we'd just plopped out of a dog's behind. I

The two Crabfest eaters pulled out bills one at a time. Then they each opened their change purse as though it were a rusted chastity belt. Heidi

Not that we were incompatible: we just had nothing to talk about.

Linus Lucas was fourteen years old, a number that made the spoons fall right out of our mouths.

Bridget: Thank you, Daniel, that is very good to know. But if staying here means working within 10 yards of you, frankly, I'd rather have a job wiping Saddam Hussein's arse.

Literature is my Utopia. Here I am not disenfranchised. No barrier of the senses shuts me out from the sweet, gracious discourses of my book friends. They talk to me without embarrassment or awkwardness.

In a word, literature is my Utopia. Here I am not disfranchised. No barrier of the senses shuts me out from the sweet, gracious discourse of my book-friends. They talk to me without embarrassment or awkwardness. The things I have learned and the things I have been taught seem of ridiculously little importance compared with their large loves and heavenly charities.

I was just sitting in Target, just getting over my cold. I blew my nose and I see these people looking at me and kind of whispering and pointing. Finally, I went, 'Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? Do I have a booger on my face and no one's telling me?' I'm just not used to it.

When I was first asked for an autograph, I felt so uncomfortable that I just wrote, 'Tig's Autograph,' and from then on, that's what I write when I sign my name.