Theatre spoils me. And not always in a good way.
Like, I recently received an e-vite to a birthday party and was confused as to why there were only 25 people on the list.
Years ago, I had a boyfriend who would only go to parties with me if I could prove that he would know everyone there because he was tired of meeting new people. (He is one of the people among the above 25, however.)
And I saw and still see his point: people are exhausting. Sometimes I have to hide in grocery store aisles if I spy folk I recognize. (This is true, my friends, I may have even done it to you. I believe that the grocery store, like the shower, is one of the few places where my time should be private and my own...unless I've invited you to come with me.)
But I still cannot stop myself from responding to or beginning conversations with strangers, be it the aging biker guy at Trees of Mystery who commented on my flexibility or the older woman at the campsite in Bay Center who looked apprehensive of the 32-year-old-me in pigtails: I get the feeling that it is my responsibility to make them feel comfortable and welcome in the world.
It's a curse, but sometimes it results in free sandwiches, desserts or drinks.
The best is talking to strange children: I'm sure my own children will be embarrassed by this some day, but I cannot resist. Especially when the strange children I'm talking to happen to be standing on the stairs of Yellow Dog's apartment in height order, lit by the skylight and wearing Catholic school girl uniforms. They immediately started telling me about a strict teacher who almost suspended someone on the second day of school!
My favorite strange child moment was one in the grocery store. I broke my own privacy rule and spoke to a child pushing his family's cart. But I had to. He was the smallest of the four kids and he got the dirty work. Which is what I said to him (more or less). He stared at me and we parted ways, me feeling somewhat embarrassed that my day job makes me feel like I can talk to whomever whenever.
A few aisles later, I saw him coming towards me, his head poking just over the handles of the cart. When we met in the middle of the aisle, he looked at me and said, "So, we meet again."
I don't know everyone who has been invited, but I'm going to the party of 25.
Posted by Ida at September 9, 2004 11:07 AMAh, but did little cart-pushing kid use a German accent when greeting you for the second time? That's always the tell-tale...
Posted by: KING COMTE I at September 10, 2004 09:59 AMSometimes when I see someone I know in public who is pretending not to notice me because they plainly aren't up for the unplanned social interaction, I just let them.
Posted by: flamingbanjo at September 10, 2004 12:53 PMI have definitely without question hidden from each of you. Unsuccessfully a few times as well I might add. But I have recurring bouts of anxiety that make me think people are going to want to have a real conversation with me when all I'm up for is hugging someone and drooling on their shoulder.
Posted by: JtotheP at September 10, 2004 03:23 PMWait a minute... I've definitely hidden at some point; not from you guys, but from most other close-acquaintance theater people.
If NOBODY wants to make a big gabfest of these unplanned social occasions, why don't we all just agree to smile and nod and go back to our shopping?
Posted by: molly at September 16, 2004 07:51 AMBecause it isn't always applicable. In most cases, running into someone I like whom I didn't expect to see in public is one of my very favorite things. But sometimes I just want to be quiet in a way that includes no social contact and the right to duck behind the stewed tomatoes if I prefer, much in the same manner as not answering my phone.
Posted by: ida at September 16, 2004 10:55 AM