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:: 9.22.2004 ::
Social Eyes
Suffice to say, I am not a particularly outgoing person. Oh sure, I’m friendly, amiable, sociable... The kind of person who can talk you ear off (and have his own talked off right back) if the topic is of interest. I like being with and around people and don’t really have a problem opening up to complete strangers. But: I’m not the kind of person who just starts learning first names and phone numbers all at the same time and starts making the social calls right off the bat.
This is my nature. I’m not a moody person; I don’t resent spending time by myself. In fact, I have spent the last five years of my life all but planning my daily activities around one or more other people. Right now, it’s kind of nice to just kick back for a little while, enjoy the things I haven’t had time to do or that I’ve felt bad about dragging people along with me (like reading every Stephen King novel or watching Wayne’s World 2). So these last two months I have made a point to really get through these things, knowing that I am the kind of person who won’t be alone forever.
And that all sounds good, until you tell it to someone at work. Someone who says: “So what have you been up to since you moved here?” And you respond: “Oh, not a whole lot. Doing a bunch of reading and watching movies and shit that I haven’t had time for in the last five years.” And she says: “You mean you just spend all your time at home? By yourself? Do you have any friends here? And that’s the kicker - the ‘friends’ question. Because, yeah, I’ve got friends. Lots of friends. Close friends, friends I would trust with my very life if need be. But they aren’t here in town. Hell, I’m not even lucky enough to have focused them in a single geographic region. Coast to coast, I got friends. But not here, not that I see on a daily basis. So I have to answer that question, “no, not here.” And feel slightly loser-ish.
So now, she’s on a mission. Come hell or high water, said co-worker is resolved to find me friends. She takes my number. “I’m calling you on Friday. Someone - me or one of my roommates will have something going on. We’re going to find you something to do.” So it’s not even that she is going be my friend. It may be as tenuous as a roommate of a co-worker who will be my assigned social provider. So I feel awkward about this. I actually even had something to do Friday night. It was in preparation for a social event I was going to on Saturday. But I can hardly explain that to her now - she’s off to the races.
I believe that the ‘social contact making process’ is organic, something that will grow on its own if given time and circumstances. Half the fun of moving to someplace where I didn’t know anyone was to study this process. I don’t remember how I made friends when I was in grade- and high school. One part geographic proximity, one part personality, one part alphabetical proximity, and one part chance, I suppose. Then in college, I don’t remember the process because almost right away I started dating someone and that is a huge impact on other social ties. But here, the only variable is me. And it is going to be a process. And like all processes, it takes time. But I’ve got time. Oodles. And I’m working on that patience-thing, remember? So I want to see how it happens. Remember the exact details - who I was friends with first and then who I was friend with longest (because if I remember back to my school days, those were often two totally separate parties).
I’d say to some degree I’m already friends with most of the people at work, even on a limited out-of-work social basis. So bring on the Friday night parties and random social calls, I guess. It’s all part of the process. [By the way, I have exchanged cookies for neighborly favors with the lady next door who baby-sits, but I don’t really call that a social connection.]
“There’s a process in the world, and no one can stop the change...”
:: Freddy F. at 10:33 PM [+] ::
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