One of the nicer side effects of being single again is reconnecting with women. I don’t have any desire to connect with men right now (a.k.a. “date"); I know I will eventually. The way I look at it, the next man I date may end up being Mr. Right and then what? Then I’ll really be screwed—my chance to be completely selfish for a minute will be over FOREVER. (Otherwise known as fear of commitment. Dudes, I know.)
Unfortunately, I don’t share a whole lot in common with many of my longtime friends anymore, and besides, they’re either far away or busy with family/career/life/the usual. I have the occasional marathon phone conversation with my best friend and college roommate (usually during her 2am feeding with kidnugget #3), but she might as well be a universe away. And then there are my internet friends, thank God for you, really, but you’ll forgive me when I say that I don’t want to spend another decade sitting in front of this glowing box. Face time with humanoids: it’s a good thing. (<<-- geekiest thing I've ever said. *bow* <<-- there I go again.)
So, I am being forced to rediscover my social-self. I know she's in there, she must be! I was voted biggest flirt of my high school class, I was a cheerleader for God's sake! God, sorry. I apologize for the high school references. My high school reunion is next weekend and I'm totally brain-rattled about it - I have to go, but I don't want to go, and that's a whole other blog post in and of itself; I digress. I'll scan yearbook photos soon and tell you all about how big of a dork I was. Soon. I promise. Anyway. Still digressing. Stopping.
I used to CRAVE social interaction, I used to get really really excited about going out, I was a social butterfly if you will. Then for a long time I feared it, that was my 30s in a nutshell. Now I am putting myself out there so my social-self can get her bearings again. I often feel awkward, ugly, insecure, stupid. Stupid, what a word! It almost makes me tear up a little, but it's true, I feel that way sometimes.
My friends used to introduce me as, "the smart one." Now I feel like, "the dumb one." Lame. I will remain independent and single until I get the hell over whatever that's about. Also, see how I harken back to "the good old days" a lot? That's a symptom of a not-so-awesome life detour. I think I wished I had spent the last decade immersed in academia, or traveling, or something, and that regret has manifested itself in a really bizarre way. Now I feel like everything is just a little bit over my head, like I've missed out on something, or I forgot to study my vocabulary. Of course it doesn't help that I like to surround myself with educated, worldly, interesting, beautiful, fascinating people. I'm nobody special, but my friends are. I have always defined myself that way to an extent. Amazing people want to be around me - wonder why? What a strange phenomenon, considering that people tend to attract and gravitate toward like-people, to have this overwhelming insecurity about being in the company of confident people. Weird, right?
In no way should you ever feel that I am fishing for compliments when I write this drivel. I write it because it’s what festers way way deep down in there, it is what flows when I open myself up. In public I make a ton of annoying self-effacing jokes and people laugh politely, I am growing to hate that about myself, it’s this insidious defense mechanism. “I have nothing intelligent to contribute here so I’ll make a joke about that.” Barf.
I write it because I know that somebody out there will read this and relate. That’s why blogging is awesome. It’s human to feel this way, sad but human, this much I know to be true.
But look at me go: I have been making an effort to arrange things; meaning, I actually pick up the phone, dial a friend and say, “It’s a lovely evening, I’m thinking of headed down to the coastal trail for a walk then maybe grab a bite, care to join me?”
It works, too, ye-huh, who knew.
There are all these people out there that want to connect as well. I’ve been using MeetUp.com, we’ve formed a private group which has spawned a book club, vegetarian cooking night, girls’ night out, business open house night, etc. It’s quasi professional networking, mostly just an excuse to be in the company of amazing women.
I’ve started saying yes to invitations I would have said no to a couple of years ago. Boy was I a hermit! I read something last night, “You can’t regret the life you didn’t lead.” So I am not going to dwell, dammit.
But let me just say that I am really delighted to be this age. I realized that at some point, we all eventually arrive at this place where we all have something in common again: we’ve been through some kind of shit in some form or another. It’s not just me. I am meeting all kinds of women who, like me, don’t want to go out to the bars, but whose idea of fun is sitting around a table with some lemon tart, a huge glass of wine, and good, meaty conversation about pubic hair and other bodily grooming controversies. Or that one chin hair.
I’ll end on this, and it’s completely unrelated to this entire blog post: So we had book club last night right? We discussed Atonement. You may or may not have read it or seen the movie, if you haven’t, I highly recommend that you do, I’d like to go on record with the opinion that it’s the best last page in literature, but don’t read the extended entry, ONLY if you’ve seen the movie/read the book should you proceed as there is a spoiler. We got into a big argument about the ending and I want to ask what ya’ll think ...
