![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Feb. 6th, 2006
Feb. 6th, 2006 04:37 pm
Me and Social Functions
I SUCK at them. SUCK. With a big fat S-U-C-K.
Ok, that's a bit of an overstatement. But here's where it's true: When surrounded by people I don't know (or have met only a few times), I am as lame as Superman IV.
Case in point: I went to a party in San Francisco the other night, home of two people I generally regard as pretty goddamned cool. Through no fault of the hosts, I had a miserable time. Before we go any further, let's repeat the key element there: Through no fault of the hosts. They did their absolute best to foster a nice environment for a lot of folks, and it isn't their fault I'm 34 years old and can't let go and just talk to people. So don't feel guilty, you-know-who-you-are.
I just couldn't release my inhibitions. Elli did, and I watched her in a mix of awe, jealousy, and a little unwarranted anger. She manages, despite also feeling a little weirded out in large groups of folk she doesn't know, to let go and have fun. I, on the other hand, tend to lapse into silence and not knowing what to say.
At times, I did try, but it merely looked, I was told later by my well-meaning wife, as if I was just angry and broodingly staring at her. And when I heard that, I went eep! ! Because on my end of that phenomenon, what was happening was that I couldn't hear the folks talking to me, so I looked at them like an idiot, not answering, assuming for some reason unknown even to me that they'd realize I hadn't heard them and repeat themselves. Usually, they just thought I was being rude. Even Elli thought so a few times, and walked away from me, leaving me even more certain of my status as a complete reject. In a few cases, I felt shut out (again, no fault of theirs, they just didn't hear me) of conversations because I was dumb and didn't realize they couldn't always hear me, either.
So, I felt like a complete reject moron who didn't belong in an apartment full of generally interesting people. I got into a few conversations, but they weren't spectacularly enjoyable, with a couple of short exceptions. I'm just not good at empty talk, small talk, the little things people generally talk about that don't interest me in the slightest.
The thing that makes it all the more frustrating and stupid is that I know better. I know, because I've done it, that I can be pretty fracking charming when I want to be. I know that I can let go of my inhibitions and have a good time, because I've done it--even in cases where I went in not knowing anyone. I met the usual players of Sil-West LARPs when I went in and just opened up (I was inhibited in the beginning, but then I was able to let go). I've also gone alone to sci-fi cons and ended up in great conversations and had a blast, leaving with names and numbers of new friends. Now, it's easier in those kinds of situations, because the people are all fellow geeks, and we're there for a particular purpose, and we have an accepted shorthand we can use. There are built-in Geek conversation starters. I can also do ok in the English classrooms and commons rooms, because again, there's a shorthand born of a shared experience.
Jared, Ericka, Don, Robin, Sue, Susan, Tori ... all of these folks I met in school, and hit it off with pretty quickly. Will they all be friends for a long time? Probably not -- I'm sure that as time goes on, we'll fall apart. But that's ok -- I have life-long friends, and will probably make more. The point is, I was able to open up to these folks.
But in that party Saturday night? I couldn't. I knew I had to. I knew I was only bored because of my own stupid inner bullshit. The people I'd met before, I liked. The people I'd never met seemed to be pretty interesting folks, as I said before. So why couldn't I just stop being Stuffy Michael and morph into Social Michael?
One answer is that I should have drank, as Elli said I could (she volunteered to be the DD for the evening). But I didn't really /want/ to drink, so I didn't. And besides, there's a large part of me that feels that if I have to drink to be social and outgoing, that's a huge problem, and it needs to not happen.
I'm also largely uncomfortable in other peoples' homes. Of my close friends, I'm only really, truly comfortable in Ed and Stefanie's home. Others leave me feeling like I am an interloper into some space where I do not belong. I love my sister-in-law Katie's house, but I still feel a little like an intruder there, despite having been there many times. Same with Alice's house, and my parents-in-law's, and Terri's place, and even Colin and Elena's home, despite having been a guest in their home many, many times. I don't know why I feel like that.
So, I guess I've got a lot of inner searching to do yet.
As an addendum: I re-read this and in it I see elements of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
khanfused, at least as he once was. Richard, you have my abject apologies for any shit I've given you for acting as I've described herein. Sometimes it's true: we dislike in others what we dislike in ourselves.
Ok, that's a bit of an overstatement. But here's where it's true: When surrounded by people I don't know (or have met only a few times), I am as lame as Superman IV.
Case in point: I went to a party in San Francisco the other night, home of two people I generally regard as pretty goddamned cool. Through no fault of the hosts, I had a miserable time. Before we go any further, let's repeat the key element there: Through no fault of the hosts. They did their absolute best to foster a nice environment for a lot of folks, and it isn't their fault I'm 34 years old and can't let go and just talk to people. So don't feel guilty, you-know-who-you-are.
I just couldn't release my inhibitions. Elli did, and I watched her in a mix of awe, jealousy, and a little unwarranted anger. She manages, despite also feeling a little weirded out in large groups of folk she doesn't know, to let go and have fun. I, on the other hand, tend to lapse into silence and not knowing what to say.
At times, I did try, but it merely looked, I was told later by my well-meaning wife, as if I was just angry and broodingly staring at her. And when I heard that, I went eep! ! Because on my end of that phenomenon, what was happening was that I couldn't hear the folks talking to me, so I looked at them like an idiot, not answering, assuming for some reason unknown even to me that they'd realize I hadn't heard them and repeat themselves. Usually, they just thought I was being rude. Even Elli thought so a few times, and walked away from me, leaving me even more certain of my status as a complete reject. In a few cases, I felt shut out (again, no fault of theirs, they just didn't hear me) of conversations because I was dumb and didn't realize they couldn't always hear me, either.
So, I felt like a complete reject moron who didn't belong in an apartment full of generally interesting people. I got into a few conversations, but they weren't spectacularly enjoyable, with a couple of short exceptions. I'm just not good at empty talk, small talk, the little things people generally talk about that don't interest me in the slightest.
The thing that makes it all the more frustrating and stupid is that I know better. I know, because I've done it, that I can be pretty fracking charming when I want to be. I know that I can let go of my inhibitions and have a good time, because I've done it--even in cases where I went in not knowing anyone. I met the usual players of Sil-West LARPs when I went in and just opened up (I was inhibited in the beginning, but then I was able to let go). I've also gone alone to sci-fi cons and ended up in great conversations and had a blast, leaving with names and numbers of new friends. Now, it's easier in those kinds of situations, because the people are all fellow geeks, and we're there for a particular purpose, and we have an accepted shorthand we can use. There are built-in Geek conversation starters. I can also do ok in the English classrooms and commons rooms, because again, there's a shorthand born of a shared experience.
Jared, Ericka, Don, Robin, Sue, Susan, Tori ... all of these folks I met in school, and hit it off with pretty quickly. Will they all be friends for a long time? Probably not -- I'm sure that as time goes on, we'll fall apart. But that's ok -- I have life-long friends, and will probably make more. The point is, I was able to open up to these folks.
But in that party Saturday night? I couldn't. I knew I had to. I knew I was only bored because of my own stupid inner bullshit. The people I'd met before, I liked. The people I'd never met seemed to be pretty interesting folks, as I said before. So why couldn't I just stop being Stuffy Michael and morph into Social Michael?
One answer is that I should have drank, as Elli said I could (she volunteered to be the DD for the evening). But I didn't really /want/ to drink, so I didn't. And besides, there's a large part of me that feels that if I have to drink to be social and outgoing, that's a huge problem, and it needs to not happen.
I'm also largely uncomfortable in other peoples' homes. Of my close friends, I'm only really, truly comfortable in Ed and Stefanie's home. Others leave me feeling like I am an interloper into some space where I do not belong. I love my sister-in-law Katie's house, but I still feel a little like an intruder there, despite having been there many times. Same with Alice's house, and my parents-in-law's, and Terri's place, and even Colin and Elena's home, despite having been a guest in their home many, many times. I don't know why I feel like that.
So, I guess I've got a lot of inner searching to do yet.
As an addendum: I re-read this and in it I see elements of
khanfused, at least as he once was. Richard, you have my abject apologies for any shit I've given you for acting as I've described herein. Sometimes it's true: we dislike in others what we dislike in ourselves.