I Have Small Talk Anxiety

I am so conflicted about my high school reunion this weekend. 

There was a picture taken at our ten year reunion long ago, which we recently passed around our group text chain of ten. Five girls and five guys. 

The ten of us had wide, youthful smiles. Babies, really. Some of us married. Only one couple of the ten of us. Our eyes big and clear and looking ahead. The rest of our lives was out there waiting. We looked happy together.

The same ten from that ancient picture get together at least yearly. In the scheme of things and as rapidly as a year passes especially as we get older, I feel I just saw them. A mini-reunion every year.

This brings me to my inner conflict. 

“So what’s new?”

This question bugs me for some reason at my age and gives me great anxiety. If I haven’t seen you in one, five, twenty-five years and that’s the question you ask? 

I never know where to start so the only answer that comes to mind is, 

“Oh, you know. Status quo. Same old stuff!”

And of course, that’s not true. Tons of shit goes down daily. Who doesn’t if one has a family and responsibilities? Ask me something, anything, more specific!

There was a time where I was fabulously proficient at making idle chit-chat. I had to be because times called for it. But that was oh, so long ago.

Thinking of Saturday, I will be looking at a group of people I haven’t seen in years who are all going to ask me a variation of this same question. Or so it feels to me as I sit here contemplating what to do.

It fills me with anxiety. It just does. I already feel the “fight or flight” response kicking in.

So I asked my hair stylist while in her chair yesterday if I have to go. She said no.

I asked my husband, “Do I have to go to my reunion?”

“I don’t think so. Is it mandatory?”

No, it is not.

I asked three of my closest friends if I have to go. Same response from all of them in one fashion or another, do what I want.

The thing is, I am feeling guilty about it because I said I would go. I also paid $40. Which is nothing compared to the Uber fees I will incur riding to and from the city out to the venue.

It’s not a money thing really. It is an anxiety issue. Or at the very least a “I’d rather be doing anything else” feeling. It is sitting in my gut quite heavily.

For me, it’s about finding comfort and peace and being where my heart wants to be and that is not at my reunion this weekend with old classmates that I don’t keep in touch with because maybe we didn’t want to after all. 

It feels forced.

I will most probably see “The Ten” around the holidays. They will give me shit for not going and I will have a handful excuses on the tip of my tongue. And of course, they won’t buy what I am selling. But it will all be all right anyway.

The Lunch Date: You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'

I don’t know about her, but I am pretty sure I have.

If you happened to peruse yesterday’s post about a lunch date, this is the followup, which went pretty much as expected.

[Here’s some insider info about me: When I know I am going to see someone I like, I am almost giddy with anticipation. I am excited. I can’t wait! If I know you well, be prepared for several warm hugs and, most likely, a snuggle on your cheek (I am a very affectionate person.).]

I was dragging my butt getting ready. I had a small pit in my stomach. More importantly, I felt  mostly nothing.

There was a mediocre fondness upon sight. The greeting was lukewarm at best. The hug was cursory.

Upon brief glance around the apartment, she pronounced the “new love nest”, in which I have now lived for one and a half years, “wide open” and “I bet the view is nice in the summer.”

I had previously made reservations at a delectable restaurant, in part, because I didn’t want to hear her bitch then or later that the food or service sucked, which she is wont to do. We ordered a glass of wine, (Yeehaw! Man, I needed one.) and after several questions about menu items and ingredients (her's, not mine), we placed an order.

We talked about her lake house and its renovations, how difficult and exhausting it is maintaining two home (her main and lake), dermatologists, her dog and travel. [Yawn!]

She must have needed to catch her breath because she asked for an update on my kids. I briefly told her about my daughter’s new-ish job, to which she said, 

“Didn’t you tell me this before Christmas?” 

“Yep, I sure did.” She was listening!

I provided a one sentence synopsis of my son’s life then promptly shut up. She followed with an additional multiple minutes long overview of both her kids.

[Blogger's $.02: If you have to do a fairly major life update when you talk with someone, you are an acquaintance not a close friend.]

Here's the pièce de résistance?

The bill came so I grabbed for it to do the quick division. She never flinched or made a move in the direction of her wallet. So I said,

“I got it.”

To which she exclaimed, 

“THANKS!”

As the monies were being exchanged, she mentioned she had been running late and didn't have time to stop at the ATM. 

"Do you have cash for the valet ($14 + tip)? I'll take you home so you don't have to take a taxi." 

What just happened here?

If I wasn’t so numb, I’d be pissed, but this is typical, and what it is like being friends with her, and why she is fodder. 

I can confidently put a check mark next to “Took the high road.” (though it cost me about $75). I can be thankful for the friends that do care about me and know my kids. Most importantly, I can move on without guilt.

I’ve lost that lovin’ feeling and it’s gone, gone, gone, whoa-oa-o…

But it still makes me sad.