the ninja and the monkey

I used to be better at socializing. I also used to drink more. The two are not mutually exclusive. As a required social obligation creeps closer on the calendar I prep myself for awkward conversation and interaction in the same way that professional athletes use visualization to calm themselves down before competition. Best-case scenario: I find someone into the same music as me or someone who “gets” my humor. Worst-case scenario: I accidentally knock my glasses off my face while using my hands to emphatically make a point (this happened once). Most likely scenario: several awkward conversations and repeated retreats to my wife’s side.

Don’t get me wrong, we know plenty of interesting, fun people and do plenty of interesting, fun things with them. It’s the open-ended large gatherings that frighten me. I end up bounced from one person to another, wondering what it is about me that makes people need to suddenly go get a drink. On these occasions I inevitably end up cornered with the most boring person in the apartment/bar. There is no awkward silence as painful as the one shared with someone you’ve known for less than five minutes. I start swinging wildly at pitches trying desperately to get a rally started. Oh, you grew up in Scranton? Wow, I used to drive through there on my way to Ithaca. Yeah, Scranton. Wow. Then I’ll take long sips of my drink while my eyes scan the room frantically for my wife, who’s inevitably on the other side of the room engrossed in what appears to be a fascinating conversation with three people I’ve never seen before. Meanwhile my new friend and I are shattering the record for most consecutive sentences started with the phrase “So, …”

I’m sure my own insecurity plays heavily into all this. The day I get a job that I’m not ashamed of will be the day I become more confident socially. I live in perpetual fear of the phrase “What do you do?” I also find that I need more alone time than the average person. This is something I’m completely comfortable with, but it’s difficult to explain to others. There’s a fine line between being someone who takes his time checking out someone’s music/book collection at party and an idiot savant. On these occasions my wife usually comes and finds me like a recess aide checking up on a kid playing alone. She’ll happily mention that she noticed me having a long conversation with someone before, her eyes showing how proud she is of me. And I know I’ll be scolded for being too critical if I start complaining about the guy from Scranton, so I just nod and ask when we can go home.

Julia is a conversational ninja. Maybe it’s the whole teacher thing or her insatiable appetite for peoples’ stories, but she can throw down with the best of them. When we hang out with one other person, I eventually just give up. I don’t blame her, though - I’d find her more interesting, too. Regardless, she claims to find the forced gatherings just as painful as I do. In social situations she’ll sometimes try to get me to dance or do my legendary monkey-impression so I can have a forum to display my strengths as well, but often this results in me dancing alone (simply not acceptable for a guy) or frightening a small child who just wasn’t ready for the monkey yet.

I think this is why I’ve found blogging so enjoyable; for whatever reason, I have an easier time expressing myself with the written word. This confuses me, having been an academic underachiever and only a sporadic reader. The Berklee College of Music wasn’t exactly Harvard. At least I don’t express myself best through song. I can dance, but I can’t sing.