I have two mortifyingly embarrassing experiences under my belt. I already told you about the Naughty Typo and today I’m going to tell you about the Fuzzy Handcuffs. Please laugh with me and not at me.

In 2002, not long after I’d moved back home to CA after a few years in DC and three in TX for college, I had very few friends. My high school pals and I had gone separate ways and my closest friendships were now scattered across the country. Life back in the OC was not what I expected it to be. I thought with my congressional career and professional/educational experiences, I would bounce back to my hometown with a great job and a fabulous lifestyle, but in actuality, I was very lonely. I had a wonderful family who I was thrilled to be around again, but as a girly girl with no girlfriends, I felt a little lost.

In my then position, I went to a number of meetings throughout the county where I was typically an anomoly. Men dominated the field, and frankly, when I did meet women, they were quite a bit older. I remember being at a meeting where I saw another young looking gal and I practically stalked her - I mean I physically got my things and left the table I was at to go and sit with her at her table. She was gracious and accepting and the girl seemed to rule the roost. Men and women were constantly walking over to say hello. I knew I needed to make her my friend.

Throughout that year, this wonderfully outgoing girl introduced me to other fabulous people and organizations. She may not have known it then, but she was mentoring me and making me feel a little less lonely. We developed a little pack of young people and did happy hour together and always sat together at political meetings to catch up or just gossip. That year, she also taught me to incorporate color into my boring DC wardrobe, start wearing makeup, and she even told me point-blank to go get contacts  instead of wearing my glasses. She was (and still is) tough love personified. I couldn’t figure out why she wanted to be my friend…maybe it was my self-depricating humor, or frankly, maybe she was lonely, too.

Our little pack of friends weren’t as tightly fused then as we are now, but when she announced a big secret, we all decided we needed to celebrate with her. The little stinker up and eloped! In spite of the fact that the horse had left the barn, we decided to throw her a little bachelorette party. A flurry of emails were exchanged and a fabulous restraurant was chosen. Based on the location of my office, I was selected to go to the adult store and purchase some fuzzy handcuffs…I was thrilled {smirk}.

At 25, this was to be my first real trip into one of these shops. I swear to you, I walked in, asked if they had fuzzy handcuffs and the gal led me to the appropriate wall, all the while, refusing to look at ANYTHING ELSE. The salesgal was incredibly helpful and didn’t really leave my side. I paid with cash and then began to walk out when the she said:

“Have a nice day, Ms.  Johnson.”

I got into my car and started to freak out a little. How the heck did she know my name??? Then I fasted my seatbelt and saw that I was wearing my nametag: Jennifer Johnson, Office of Congressman XYZ.

I could have died…but I’m pretty sure the mortification was worth it when I told my story to the girls later that night. I can still remember the belly laughs. I eventually got over the embarrasment, but not until I’d checked the political gossip column in the local paper every day for about a week after the fuzzy handcuffs incident.

What’s your most embarrasing moment???