fish out of water

Out of my element. Like a fish out of water. A square peg in a room of circles.

I went over to Bob and Tyler’s for supper. A bar-b-que of sorts. While at the bar the night before it was brought up…I guess. I apparently said I would come over, although when Tyler called me about it today I did not remember that conversation. Clearly I could be a politician. “I do not recall.” I was nervous all afternoon about going to this casual get together. I have no idea where or when I seriously started to be anxious about meeting new people. I guess I have joked about having social anxiety disorder too much (my favorite excuse to get out of doing things I don’t want to do) and I think I may have actually developed it. After spending hours dreading this event, I called to cancel. A simple “sorry, can’t make it” and then hang up the phone. Afterwards I felt like a huge jerk. A few minutes later I called back and said that I would be there after all. I seriously think I am losing my mind.

I don’t know why I hate meeting new people lately. I just do. I don’t understand it; it is out of character for me. How can a person be in the performing arts and hate meeting new people? It is bizarre. A friend from college once told me that he was impressed with my ability to chat people up. I could have conversations with just about anyone, no matter their walk of life or who they were. Clearly that is not the case anymore. I have the worst time connecting with people. I fear I am becoming socially awkward. What is happening to me?

So the others arrived and I was immediately looking for a way out. They were nice people, just not my kind of people. Trendy Abercrombie & Fitch boys are not my crowd. I pretty much said nothing and pretended to be interested in polite conversation about topics I could not have cared less about. I was asked a few questions but was more focused on how to leave than on giving witty answers. It also psyched me out that there were no girls there. I always get along better with girls than guys. Girls just seem smarter. After one of the guys asked if a mosquito can fly 45 miles an hour, I had my fill. Look pretty but try not to think…right boys?

Finally a way out. Everyone was going to go on a boat ride. I said I was cold and was going to go get a sweater. I left. I was in my car driving away before they even all made it out to the front yard.

Was I being judgmental? Maybe. Are they nice people? Probably. Do I want to do ever do it again? No.

I went home and had some ice cream and watched the DVD of Kirstie Alley’s “Fat Actress” instead.

I don’t know why I get invited to these things or why I even go. It never ends well.

Talking to Tyler today he had a good laugh out of the fact that I was so noticeably uncomfortable. Great. Glad I can provide yet another punch line to life’s joke. But, at least I know that mosquitoes can’t fly at a rate of 45 miles per hour. Whatever.