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Socially Awkward

2/22/2019

 
I'm pretty sure I didn't used to be this socially awkward. There was a time in my twenties, even into my thirties, when I could converse with anyone with ease. My friends thought I was funny (if a little quirky), and there were many times I was invited to parties and events simply to provide social lubricant to the situation.

Somewhere in my forties, this changed. There's no exact moment that I can point at and say, "There it is. That's when I stopped being delightful in the company of others." It just happened over time; my circle of friends got smaller and smaller as I learned more and more whom I could trust and whom I truly enjoyed spending time with; I stopped caring so much about hurting other people's feelings by turning down invitations.

Lately, though, I've taken this to the extreme. Oh, sure, circumstances dictated it, but I became a full-on hermit. Until I got a text from a friend and former coworker inviting me out for pizza. Several other former coworkers would be there. Did I want to go?

Ugh. People, I thought, except that original former coworker, the one doing the inviting, is someone I really like. How much did I like her? I asked myself. Enough to put on pants and go out in public?

Then I thought back to the last time I'd socialized with anyone outside of family. It was December. Early December, actually. That's pretty bad, I realized. Even shut-ins visited with their caregivers a few times a week. I should go. So I did.

When I arrived at the restaurant, only a few other people were there. I was able to hug people appropriately and say hello and ask how things were going. But over the next half hour, more and more coworkers joined us. I panicked. What do I say? What do I do? Can they tell I haven't had a non-family conversation since December?

"How have you been?" the young lady to my left said. She seemed happy to see me, and I remembered her as a nice girl, who always greeted me cheerfully in the mornings when we worked together. 

​How had I been? There were so many ways to answer that! Be positive, I thought. Say something upbeat. Maybe tell her the story about how Jason found a free treadmill online, but when he brought it home, it wouldn't fit through the basement door. That's funny, right? How he had to bring it in through the front door, and now we can't get it downstairs where the exercise bike lives? Yes, I could go with that. I turned to her and smiled. "I have a treadmill in my living room!" I blurted out.

She looked at me for a moment. I recognized that look immediately. It's the one I would sometimes give my mother when I was younger: slightly furrowed brow to signify concern, combined with a polite and somewhat forced smile. The look that said, You are a crazy lady.

Dear lord. I am a crazy lady.

Serves me right for socializing.


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