Now it's not that I'm holier-than-thou or anything. I'm not uptight or think I'm better than people.
I just don't fucking know how to handle them.
The vast majority of my friends are behind a computer screen, voices on the other end of a phone, or nerdy faces on Skype.
And I love them. You know why? When they tell me something, I can take a minute to think about the best way to react. I can reread that text or pretend there's lag. That makes me seem way less awkward than I really am.
Now when it comes to random encounters, I'm totally cool. Hot dude delivering our couch? Got that shit. I can fake charisma and normality.
But when put in a situation where I'm supposed to befriend someone...I have no frickin' clue what to do. This is an actual conversation I had with a girl who tagged along with me, my brother and sister-in-law to a concert.
Me: So do you like video games?
Her: Oh, I don't really play much of those...
Me: That's okay! Uh, books?
Her: I'm not really a reader...
Me: ...Music?
Her: Oh you know, a lot of different genres. This band is nice.
Me: *blank stare* Television?
Her: I don't have much time for shows.
Me: Uh...What do you...like?
Her: Oh, I play softball! What sports do you play?
Me: Well if I could swim, I always thought I'd be a great swimmer. I think that's a sport.
I have nothing to share. No exciting tales or fun little talents.
My record for sleeping is seventeen hours, I have a short-temper, for some reason people find me amusing, and I have some interesting facts about animal dicks up my sleeve.
Yeah, that's pretty much what I'm bringing to the table.
I can very easily count on one hand the number of people who don't make me squirmy, and who in turn are not made squirmy by me. I'm a vain, socially inept, abandonment-issue-ridden nine year old in a seventeen year olds body.
and yet this spring I have to get a job that makes me have to deal with people on a regular basis. Society requires me to be nice and act normal so I can make money, so I can buy my own apartment and retreat to a solitary existence with a pet iguana and maybe a ferret.
And what's worse: My mother expects me to make friends. With people. Like talk to them and convince them to like me so we can...I don't know...breathe together or something.
