Sunday, September 16, 2012

Social (in)Security



     Even though both high school and college are increasingly distant memories, I still suffer from “lunch table” syndrome, where I walk into a group and look desperately for a familiar, friendly face. I long to be “that kid” who is so secure that he or she can sit with anyone, or sit alone, and look contented in his/her own skin. But, after all these years of trying, I have to face the realization that I’m the one who stands nervously clutching the lunch tray, looking desperately around the cafeteria for a welcoming face.
     On one occasion, my daughter and I agreed that both of us are comfortable participating in a conversation, but neither of us know how to get a conversation started. So, when we were together, long moments of silence would arise since we had nobody to kick off conversation for us. Nowadays, she’s a flight attendant and meets new people – both crew and passengers – just about every day. She says she’s gotten better at opening conversations. I’m a teacher, and though I have no problem opening STRUCTURED conversations, I’m still a flop in situations where the topics are more nebulous and potentially varied.
     Just as some of my kids clung to security blankets, pacifiers, or other beloved objects, I need a security “lovey” when I go out in public. I think that’s why I married a man who can comfortably open a conversation with just about anyone. When we attend a social event, I’m like the toddler who has to warm up to the situation before I can leave his side, and then I venture only so far before I have to come back and touch base.
     So, if you happen to see me, be sure and get the conversation rolling before I get that desperate look.

1 comment:

  1. Right...I kind of used to do that too--use the guy whom everyone instinctively liked as "base." I could maybe venture into an encounter I knew I could deal with, but then return and plug in if the awkwardness got too jangly.

    I'm practicing the art of "seasoned awkwardness" now, where you do things solo, or sit alone, owning your misfit qualities. I think it's similar to channeling stage fright. Or saying, via body language or personal aura--"Yep...not gonna pretend I'm cooler than I am." I would prefer not to revert to the way I was in my youth, which was the living embodiment of "It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."

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