You know those cringe-worthy moments you sometimes have when dealing with people? Like when a waiter says “enjoy your meal”, and you say “you too”. Or when you’re day-dreaming then suddenly awareness comes back and you realise you’re making really awkward eye contact with someone, or worse, someones crotch. Over the last ten or so years, I’ve learned how to prevent these pesky social landmines, by avoiding socialising all together. Marriage, children and so-hot-right-now mental illnesses have provided the perfect cover a life of hermitism (probably not a real word, but should be. Hermitude maybe?).
But now I’m not married, and am (currently) mental fit, and every second weekend, I don’t even have the children. I’m out of excuses, so I went out, and I learned some things:
♦ I have nothing to talk about and small talk is hard.
♦ Some bars need more seating. I’m too tired to stand at the end of the day.
♦ If people find out that you’re divorced, they’ll tell you about their divorce. They will probably cry. This is unsettling.
♦ People will not believe you if you say that you and your ex are friendly. They will actually argue with you about this, and tell you all about how he’ll either, a: take your children away and turn them against you, or b: reject your children and stop paying child support. These are the only options.
♦ Some of these people may try to do drunk reiki-like analysis on you, then tell you how stressed and unhappy you are, “oh my god, you’re so tense!”, “That’s because your touching me, and you’re spilling your drink on me”.
♦ Monteith’s Green Apple Cider! So so good.
♦ I love my bed.
Most of the weirdness probably comes from not knowing anyone except for the friend I went with. Which means I’m going to have to do this more to make the weirdness not weird any more. I think I’ll just ease myself into this slowly.