Social Distortion
I'm beginning to think I'm socially retarded.
Making and keeping friends has never been an easy task for me. I was not one of those kids who sparkles like something shiny and draws attention from other kids and adults alike. I was the shy, smart kid who folded into herself and begged the world not to notice. I was also--big shock here--mouthy. Not a good combination. In the 7th grade, I won a skating party at the local roller rink (remember when skating was cool?) for myself and my 10 closest friends. I could only think of 2 people to invite. My sister got the rest of the passes for her and her posse.
In high school, I had a group of friends--we were mostly the leftovers who didn't fit into any of the high school social castes. "M" was the vehemently closeted contender for the drama cup award (he later came out as gay and then later as straight and then later still as bisexual, which is why I will never ask him "which dress should I wear?"). "T" was our valedictorian who was not allowed to have fun. "J" was the black-clad, poetry-spouting beatnik. "S" wanted to conquer the world, and screw as many dudes as possible in the process. I'm not really sure where I fit into that circle. Consider me the "Carrie Bradshaw" of the group--the one who is a composite of all their different personalities and a complete whackjob.
We didn't keep in touch after graduation--and that shouldn't come as a surprise, considering none of us really liked each other all that much. We were friends, but we took "innocent ribbing" to the extreme and were often just downright nasty to each other. I found other friends after graduation--people who shared my interests and passtimes, and who ultimately drove me batty.
After I'd spent a couple of years in Omaha, I had created a small group of people I considered friends. When I got married, his friends became my friends. When we moved to KC, my friends became his friends. When we divorced, we had to split up the friends along with the furniture. It was never like a sitcom, where people just filter in and out and stop by every day to say "hey," but there was interaction, more than I'd ever had during my first 18 years.
Then I met db, and he set to work on Project Isolation. And he was sneaky about it. He started by just acting like such a complete douchebag around my friends that I started declining invitations. And they stopped coming. I couldn't take him to any work functions because he was embarrassing. My family pretty much hated him on sight. It wasn't long before my 7th grade skating party days--when I at least had 2 friends--were looking pretty good.
After I left him, I did what most adults with kids and full-time jobs do when they find themselves friendless--I made office buddies. The problem with office buddies is that, more often than not, the common thread is the company--and when one or more of you leave the company, the friendships slowly (or quickly) unravel.
When you're married, and you work full-time in an office of fewer than 10 people (and most of them are just renting office space), and you have a small child and a short supply of babysitters, it's not the easiest thing in the world to make new friends. I've been trying to sidle up to the other preschool moms, but it hasn't been easy. There's always that pressure to suppress my true self around them and put on my "nice mom" hat (which doesn't fit worth a damn), and then in conversation, the real me will slip out and I end up looking like a weirdo. Plus, most of these women have kids who have been beaten up by my kid at least once already, so when I see them, my first instinct is to bow my head in shame and apologize. I end up going home and doing my best Chris Farley ("stupid, stupid, stupid!").
It's wild how we can grow up and still find pieces of our personalities left over from childhood. Like that feeling of wanting them to like you so much, you're afraid to say anything.
Which is why I say alcohol should be served at ALL school functions. A show of hands? Who's with me?
Making and keeping friends has never been an easy task for me. I was not one of those kids who sparkles like something shiny and draws attention from other kids and adults alike. I was the shy, smart kid who folded into herself and begged the world not to notice. I was also--big shock here--mouthy. Not a good combination. In the 7th grade, I won a skating party at the local roller rink (remember when skating was cool?) for myself and my 10 closest friends. I could only think of 2 people to invite. My sister got the rest of the passes for her and her posse.
In high school, I had a group of friends--we were mostly the leftovers who didn't fit into any of the high school social castes. "M" was the vehemently closeted contender for the drama cup award (he later came out as gay and then later as straight and then later still as bisexual, which is why I will never ask him "which dress should I wear?"). "T" was our valedictorian who was not allowed to have fun. "J" was the black-clad, poetry-spouting beatnik. "S" wanted to conquer the world, and screw as many dudes as possible in the process. I'm not really sure where I fit into that circle. Consider me the "Carrie Bradshaw" of the group--the one who is a composite of all their different personalities and a complete whackjob.
We didn't keep in touch after graduation--and that shouldn't come as a surprise, considering none of us really liked each other all that much. We were friends, but we took "innocent ribbing" to the extreme and were often just downright nasty to each other. I found other friends after graduation--people who shared my interests and passtimes, and who ultimately drove me batty.
After I'd spent a couple of years in Omaha, I had created a small group of people I considered friends. When I got married, his friends became my friends. When we moved to KC, my friends became his friends. When we divorced, we had to split up the friends along with the furniture. It was never like a sitcom, where people just filter in and out and stop by every day to say "hey," but there was interaction, more than I'd ever had during my first 18 years.
Then I met db, and he set to work on Project Isolation. And he was sneaky about it. He started by just acting like such a complete douchebag around my friends that I started declining invitations. And they stopped coming. I couldn't take him to any work functions because he was embarrassing. My family pretty much hated him on sight. It wasn't long before my 7th grade skating party days--when I at least had 2 friends--were looking pretty good.
After I left him, I did what most adults with kids and full-time jobs do when they find themselves friendless--I made office buddies. The problem with office buddies is that, more often than not, the common thread is the company--and when one or more of you leave the company, the friendships slowly (or quickly) unravel.
When you're married, and you work full-time in an office of fewer than 10 people (and most of them are just renting office space), and you have a small child and a short supply of babysitters, it's not the easiest thing in the world to make new friends. I've been trying to sidle up to the other preschool moms, but it hasn't been easy. There's always that pressure to suppress my true self around them and put on my "nice mom" hat (which doesn't fit worth a damn), and then in conversation, the real me will slip out and I end up looking like a weirdo. Plus, most of these women have kids who have been beaten up by my kid at least once already, so when I see them, my first instinct is to bow my head in shame and apologize. I end up going home and doing my best Chris Farley ("stupid, stupid, stupid!").
It's wild how we can grow up and still find pieces of our personalities left over from childhood. Like that feeling of wanting them to like you so much, you're afraid to say anything.
Which is why I say alcohol should be served at ALL school functions. A show of hands? Who's with me?
posted by Mitzi Green at 9:38 AM
1 Comments:
Me! Me! Me! Where's the bar?
Okay, seriously, I know we've talked about this before on WMR, but it is hard to make friends when you work and have kids. I think it's just in the last year that I've spent more time cultivating friendships than I have in probably a decade. Not sure what drove me to do it, but I find it's better to have a few close friends (the kind you can call when you're doing something nuts) than a lot of acquaintances.
I do feel like an awkward adolescent a lot of the time, though. You'd think at almost 37 years old I'd be a wee bit more confident, but inside I feel like I'm back at the 8th grade dance again with zits and bad hair and no one to talk to.
Post a Comment
<< Home