Well it does. And I know it’s not just me, so let’s not all pretend we enjoy meeting new people, okay? It’s hard. And uncomfortable. And worse if you’re a woman. Men immediately have something in common to talk about- Sports. It’s their go-to. Women don’t have that. Although Pinterest is coming a long way into allowing women the same perk. But really, why is it so hard? I went to a book club thing recently with all women (as if I needed to add the all women part of that sentence). Anyway, every single one of them I talked to was super nice and very cordial. Still, I felt odd and out of place. Am I really that insecure? Yes. Yes I am.
Most of these women knew each other and as they sat there and laughed at their inside jokes and talked about each other’s kids and husbands and the hilarious thing someone who wasn’t there said, I thought “these aren’t my people”. Like I was in some sort of tribe or cult back in SC or something. I don’t mean “these aren’t my type of people”, they are. Funny, sarcastic, witty, classy, chic, food-lovin ladies. That’s my type! Ding, Ding, Ding…we have a match! But it was more like I was looking in from the outside on someone else’s friendship. I know I’ve felt this before and I know that some of those “others” are now my good friends, but at first it’s like I understand child birth is- you forget the awful beginning once it’s over. Now, I don’t have kids so I don’t know if that’s true but I do know some people that have had a second child after a miserable, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad birthing so there must be something to it.
I almost backed out of this little shindig at the last minute. I was going to claim tired, or busy, or root canal or something, but then I took a step back and thought "you are not an island, you have to make friends and not rely on Sparky"(or Syd- bless her for being my SC friend up here). Then I pushed myself even further and decided I needed to do this not only for myself but for Syd as well. I’m so selfless, I’ll take one for the team. Yeah, I really did have this sort of crazy conversation in my head. I also like to debate with myself about how people just talk to strangers and seem so comfortable and why I’m not that way. Some people are born with it and some develop it, I am neither. Sparky will talk to anyone. And I mean that literally. Any other human or animal. Everywhere we go. Constantly. It’s amazing and disturbing all at the same time. But I am deceiving. If you know me, you think I am crazy right now for saying this because, sadly, you can’t get me to shut up. Sorry about that.
Am I shy? Am I sizing everyone up? Am I judging? I’m not judging. If anything, I’m feeling judged as I stand there silent. But judged based on what? My lack of talking? My face? Is there something on my face? And why do I always suddenly feel like there’s something on my face? Like a sign that says “New person. Look at me! I don’t belong here”. And now I have the added pressure of my accent (which apparently is only heard some of the time by certain people) but one good y’all will stop them short. And then I think they expect me to be some kind of southern belle walking around with a big, floppy hat and some sweet tea talking about “bless her heart y’all. Well,I was just fixin to go make some more tea and sit out on the porch and fan myself.” Indeed.
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