How Not to Squish Young Children

65cd6b0ac252ba6d741ece0f2f887499I am not the most graceful of all people, and in times of social situations where I am out of my comfort zone, it only exaggerates this affliction. This weekend, I was to go to the wedding of my husbands closest friend. He was a groomsmen, with a significant role in the wedding, mainly reading a wordy Tennyson poem (no it was not The Kraken, although I did suggest this), and I was expected to go. What this means to me was I would be surrounded with peopled I do not know, and with people that are important and historically relevant to my husbands entire life. I would also be alone before and during dinner, while he did his groomsmen duties. Now you must think that since his friends will be there, that I must be close to them. This is not the case. When you are friends with the same people elementary school through college, and their wives are all connected as well, it is not easy to break into that TRIBE. After many years, I am so far on the outside of this group that I might as well be in outer space, in their company. Needless to say, this makes my hyper-awkward whenever I am in their presence, nothing is natural…and I become the social equivalent to those people that were home schooled and socially “special”.

After weeks trying to figure out what clothes to hide behind, the really important stuff hit me late. I cannot wear the fantastic heels I had planned because I will fall down. I will trip on the runner causing the bridesmaids to fall over me, like domino’s and ruin the wedding, knock over a table and stain the brides pristine and glittering dress with a dozen glasses of red wine, I will trip and land on a small child squashing the life out of her. So an hour before I am to be there I am running all over town trying to find sandals that will go with the fun, but outrageous 50’s style dress, not an easy fete since petty coats do to usually call for flip flops, not the most cohesive look…but the thoughts of the travesty I might create in heels made me push this thought from my head. I also realized that I am still a contact newbie..and I always end up having issues so some huge sunglasses that went with the dress were needed to so I could cover up any rapid blinking because my eyes feel like the sierra desert action. This last minute scrambling left me with 25 minutes to get ready, so I called on my fashion slave. The ever so fabulous Ash ( my ever flamboyant 10 year old). He is swapping purses for me (this is the happiest day of his life, and I have waited so long for you to ask me to stuff like this for you, he tells me as he puts the lipstick I am taking in the new bag)…picking out my jewelry. I do succeed in being ready in 35 minutes…but I look pretty good if you avert your eyes to the shoes and just go ankles up. I race to the winery (which is not easy because it is super far away or so it seems to me) I get there find a great parking spot. Check the mirror, and make sure I have my keys, gum, all set…and then I try to get out of the car. Ummm….it won’t let me. Then suddenly the alarm is going off, I am stuck in the freaking car..locked in, I cannot turn off the alarm, I cannot get out of the car…I am in a sheer panic blindly pressing every button I can, I look over to see if anyone has noticed. I have just about every person on the deck and crush pads full attention. I should have worn the damn heels! Finally, the bastard of a car lets me free….I have that trembly knee feeling; shallow breathing…afraid to get back in the car just in case it tries to snag me again, but wanting to hide. My husband comes then…he knows that it was me but tries to make light of it..thinking it will help. I enter the wedding with many questions of, “was that you?”…I laugh because what else can I do? I am not supposed to drink but beg him to get me a beer, which he does. I am left with his friends, who do the norm, warmly greet me and then turn away, so I am awkwardly standing there..among people but so super obviously alone…so I do what most people that are just as “special” as I am…I get totally wasted. 57db2865105ac69bf0bd8d4e09f82f32And you know what??? It helped. It stopped mattering to me, that the people I stood with all had their backs to me…I talked to their backs until they turned around and had to acknowledge the obnoxious yapper at their backs…I told story after story…joke after joke…I am sure they were all super impressed, but I was totally fine with it. At dinner, I knocked into my plate so loud (I like to tell inappropriate stories with lots of hand gestures, like I am acting out the story..or even in the story) had every neck at every table craned around to see who was making such a racket, and I totally ignored that I had done it and kept on with my story (denial). I danced like I was Bobbi Brown with a whole new Prerogative…..and had a great time. I am sure that most of the people I was in the company of with sighed with relief when I left, but I for one night, I got past that impenetrable wall of the TRIBE, and enjoyed their company even if they did not enjoy mine!

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. despoticloset
    Nov 15, 2012 @ 04:07:02

    I cannot express the level of my empathy. I would OMG if I were an OMGer, unfortunately, I am not. I am in tears with anguished recognition of this scenario. I want to say it gets better. I hope for some it actually does. Breathe.

    Like

    Reply

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