Socially Inept?

Socially Inept?

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I’m not very good at meeting new people. In fact, I pretty much spout compulsive lies whenever it happens. Going to the hair dressers is the worst.

“So, do you have any plans for this evening?”

Only a loser would get their hair done and then go home, eat a pizza, watch some crappy t.v., and go to bed.

“Erm, yeah I’m going out for dinner with my family. My sister’s home from Canada so it’s kind of like a reunion thing…”

Oh god, only a loser will get their hair done and then go out with their family.

“…and…and then I’m going out. In town. Probably be a messy night. Had a messy night last night as well. Probably still drunk. I was soooo wasted.”

Nervous giggle, hiccough, cough, type of thing.

I don’t know why I do it. The lies just come out. And eventually, I get caught up in my web, go bright red, and successfully manage to alienate myself from the social norm.

I have managed to make some friends, however, and tonight we went out for some good ol’ pub grub. We walked in and asked for a table for five, and even though there was one in the cosy, social hub of the pub, where everyone else was; we were put through into the cold-hardly-ever-used-except-maybe-for-a-Sunday-carvary dining room. Huh? Why couldn’t we sit with everyone else? Do we look so socially inept that we must be kept away from the normal people?

It’s funny because we are quite an odd group and it’s probably a good thing we were kept away from everyone else. I rather liked it. Even though it was cold and quiet and very, very white, we could talk about what we wanted, without having to worry that we were making too much noise. We could be our usual, odd selves, without getting odd looks in return. 

My mum, rather tipsy, once said, “If you have one friend by the time you’re fifty, your life’s pretty damn good,” and while one of my friends couldn’t get over the fact that she only had one friend – “Seriously, one friend? You only have ONE friend? Like, ONE? And that’s it?” – and her one friend wouldn’t stop calling her a cow (all in fun), I think she does make a good point. All you need is one good friend. One person you can be entirely yourself with. And by that, I mean someone you can fart in front of. When one friend told me that he “had never been so flaccid”, I took that as a complement. 

And so, even though I’m pretty darn useless in everyday social situations, going by my mum’s standards, I’m doing alright. And so are my socially inept friends. Plural.

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