The Ups and Downs of Being Socially Retarded
I often wonder if MC will turn out to be more like me, or more like Jeff.
Jeff: Makes
friends easily and always seems to see the good in everyone.
Me: Tends to dislike most people.
Jeff: Is
athletically outgoing and doesn't think twice about starting up a game of
basketball or volleyball with complete strangers.
Me: Stays at home and sits on the
sofa with a box of cookies and a cat. Doesn't enjoy an elevated heart rate.
Jeff: Is
very intelligent and curious. Often reads. Has been known to dabble in
political activism.
Me: Currently reading the most
recent Harry Potter book. Could not possibly discuss any world news with you.
Could perhaps chat about the Gilmore Girls for a bit, but would quickly get
bored and fall asleep.
Before marrying me, Jeff spent a lot of time with his friends and their girlfriends, who I often refer to as Lovelies. Lately, it has become clear that some of Jeff's friends (and a few strays) are interested in spending time with Jeff, but not with me.
In a way, this is a huge relief. If you aren't invited to drink beer with friends, you don't have to go back and forth about which color eyeliner will not get you laughed out of the room. If you aren't invited to attend events with friends, you don't have to brush up on Current Events such as: the most fashionable length of Capri pant, the current status of bare midriff season, and the ups and downs of being thin, athletic, and beautiful.
In another way, the non-invite is a bit of a wake-up call. Has someone detected that I don't enjoy eating smooshy black olives spread on melba toast?
One must scratch one's head. (Actually, one must scratch one's head as one sits all alone on the couch with a box of cookies).
