So, there has been a series of rapes near my neighborhood, and my sweet next door neighbor, Becky, has been sort of living in fear that she might be next. But then the news reported that all the victims have been in their 20s and early 30s, and Trevor mentioned that Becky didn't fit the rapist's profile.
And, well, I thought Becky would like to know this so she could sleep better at night. So I told her. JUST LIKE THAT. Because I am an idiot.
It never occurred to me that I had just essentially told my neighbor that she was old.
And, as Trevor pointed out over the weekend, that "the rapist didn't want her".
(Which I don't think is a bad thing, by the way.)
Apparently, I do stuff like this all the time. I think I'm being helpful or trying to make conversation, but I'm just being an accidental jacka$$.
Like a couple of weeks ago when someone asked me if Trevor and I wanted more children and, if yes, when, and I responded with, "Yes, but I want to be done breeding by 35." I then rambled on and on about how 35 is creeping up on me, and how I'll be 33 this summer. And, OMG, when did I get so old?!
Turns out the girl I was talk to - who I previously thought was in her mid to late 20s because she is married to a friend of my younger brother - is actually 34. And, well, she thinks I'm doing pretty well since she "doesn't have any kids yet".
Maybe next year I'll give up talking to people for Lent.