I am the kind of person that will bang my head on the desk when I remember some awful social faux pas that happened to me eight years ago.
I’ve managed to talk myself into a full blown panic attack over an imagined conversation that hasn’t even happened yet, and might not ever happen. I’ll feel my heartbeat in my butthole in the moments leading up to meeting someone new or having to address a group of people, even if I’ve known that group of people for years. And I’ll spend the minutes before I fall asleep at night reliving every excruciatingly awkward social interaction I had that day, that week or from months before. Here are some I’m obsessing over at the minute.
He just saw me call him a Mother Fucker.
Just last week I was negotiating the morning traffic on the way to work and this guy in a ute (aka, the worst people to be around in traffic) decided he just HAD to be in my lane. So he moved over into my lane while going 40km an hour in a 70km an hour zone without indicating. Now I’m obviously well within my right to call this guy a mother fucker at this point. What I wasn’t counting on was to lock eye contact with him in his side view mirror as he moved over and my mouth formed the words. It was like slow motion. My mouth was moving and I could see that he was watching me but I was already in too deep. I couldn’t stop.
This mother fucker who doesn’t know how to drive, just saw me call him a mother fucker.
What if he never knew his mother? What if his mother is sick? What if he was on his way to visit his sick mother in hospital and was so distraught he forgot how to indicate?
The lesson from this is not to drive like a wanker in front of me, because I will make you question your relationship with your mother.
The Kiss that never was.
Last year, I was involved for about 6 months or so with this guy who I trusted a lot and long story short, that was a massive mistake (a story for another time). I affectionately refer to him as The Coward (seriously, because I have no other way of retaliating that won’t make me look like a psychopath), so let’s use that name here.
When I would go to The Coward’s apartment, I’d always text him and he’d come downstairs to let me in. On one such occasion, I was a little slow crossing the road and he was halfway down the path by the time I got there. We’d never really figured out how we were greeting each other – do we hug? do we cheek kiss? do we kiss kiss? Mostly I’d just awkwardly walk past him because I’m awkward, but this time The Coward went for the kiss kiss. Unfortunately, at the time I thought he was just going for a hug but at the last second I realised he was going to kiss me. Of course, by then it was too late so our lips sort of weirdly grazed each other’s cheeks and then we were in an even weirder hug where my arm was locked against my side and then I started laughing BECAUSE I’M AWKWARD.
I bought it up with him a few months later, and he apparently doesn’t remember it. It still fucking haunts me.
The lesson from this is to establish how you’re going to greet each other in all scenarios from high tea with the Queen right down to clandestine afternoon fucks, even if it sucks every last bit of romance and spontaneity from the moment.
That time I accidentally but very brutally insulted one of my closest friends
This is from so many years ago, it’s almost ridiculous that it still makes me flinch, but thanks to that wonderful feature on Facebook called “On This Day” I was very recently able to relive this horrifying memory all over again.
It was at the birthday party of one of our mutual friends when we were around 20. It was a very fun night, but as things tend to do when you’re 20 (patronising old person speak), things deteriorated very quickly and it wasn’t long before a beer bong appeared.
Honestly, I’ve never done a beer bong, mostly because I just don’t think I’ve ever wanted to test my gag reflex in front of that many people and also because it just seems like a waste of alcohol.
Oh, at this time I had a boyfriend, and my friend didn’t. It’s relevant and also, switched now. So really, it’s worked out for her and karma has had it’s awful way with me.
Anyway, she decided to get in on the beer bong for whatever reason, I can’t speak for her motivations. And as tends to happen when trying to consume alcohol en masse, most of it ended up on the ground and on her dress. While she was bent over, I guess trying not to lose any of it, the words “no wonder you can’t get a boyfriend” slipped out of my mouth.
no wonder you can’t get a boyfriend…
Those words are an excellent indicator of how young I was, because I sure as shit would never insult someone for being single now. Not just because I’m single now, but because there’s literally nothing fucking wrong with it. In the years that followed I actually became really jealous of my friends who’d managed to stay single. But that’s also a story for another time.
I hate that memory the most.
The lesson from this is to always count to five before saying something stupid when you’re drunk, and then don’t say it and bury your head in the sand you awful piece of shit.
A more serious look at how I deal with my Anxiety.
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