Who You’d Want

I can’t offer much, but I can understand.

My social anxiety has improved, but there are still moments when it makes itself known. It knows when I haven’t been paying attention to it, when I’ve let my guard down, and it strikes when I’m vulnerable, uncomfortable, feeling the least like myself. Those moments have decreased in their frequency, but I still like to wait outside of a gathering or a restaurant if a friend hasn’t arrived yet. I don’t mind sitting at the table alone, but maybe I’m not ready to walk into a crowded place without the distraction of conversation. Even if it’s cold, I’ll listen to one last good song before you arrive in an attempt to psyche myself up. Once you arrive, that’s when I’ll hopefully become myself again, and I’ll be ready to cross the threshold.

When I’m going to a place where I know people, or I’m already with the people I know, I don’t give the situation a second thought. I stroll in like it’s natural, like this is how I always am, regardless of the occasion. Okay, maybe I’m a bit more subtle than that, but sometimes I am loud and obnoxious, and there’s a reason for that. It’s in those situations that I can be comfortable, that I can be my truest self, or something close to it. I can venture outside of my group if I feel compelled to, but I know it’s not an absolute necessity. Sometimes I want to meet other people, to broaden my horizons, but sometimes I need the comfort that close friends can offer. Maybe I’m looking forward to chatting with someone I don’t get to see enough.

When I go to a place where I know one or two people, I carry myself differently. It depends on the mood I’m in. I may hug the wall, or cling to a familiar person, but I’m trying to get better about how I approach these situations, situations where familiar faces are not in abundance. Almost always, I give the situation a shot, knowing that so many of the best nights come when you don’t expect them. Sometimes people let you in. Sometimes groups accept you, and they allow you to become one of them for the night. In the best case scenario, you all make plans that never come to fruition, and you part company on good terms. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it’s a good thing to go out on a high note, to maintain the memory of a wonderful night spent amongst people you hardly know. Maybe it’s best not to taint the memory.

I’ll give it my best shot, but some nights never get going. Maybe it’s my own fault. Sometimes, I’m in a funk. A strange mood or feeling creeps in like fog, and I can’t shake it. Maybe the people there are just like me, in that they’ve come with their own group of friends, and they aren’t ready to venture outside of their circle. It can feel so cold to get rejected. Sometimes people aren’t ready to let their guard down. Maybe you try to evade their defenses, or maybe you hit up against the resistance, and you decide that it’s best to just walk away. Maybe you leave a situation when you know it’s not going to turn out the way you want it to, and that’s okay. Sometimes, there are a few awkward moments, but you push through. Other times, you realize that things just aren’t working, and you bail before the situation gets any worse.

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I’ve written before about being the loser, and I still maintain that I am one. I’ve never fit in with any particular group. I have three good friends from home that I’m close with, but even so, I am definitely the odd one out. Out of the four of us, I am the one that’s least like the others.

The people I’ve associated with have always been fluid. There are a few who have stuck around, but for the most part, the people and the scenery continue to change, even if I stay in the same location. I’m still on the outside looking in, and at a certain point in life, I started to enjoy my status as someone who could come and go without much fanfare. Less of an attachment makes for an easier escape, should I need it.

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I’ve written before about being the loser, but maybe the more accurate term is misfit. When I notice a fellow misfit, someone having a difficult time being social or adjusting, I won’t necessarily seek them out, but I do hope our paths cross. Maybe I don’t fit in anywhere, but armed with the ability to talk to anyone, I’ve realized that I can be the person who helps people to feel comfortable. If they’re trying to figure things out, and they’re looking for a friendly face that they don’t know, I try to be that person. I’ve been to way too many places where people are cold and uninviting. Be the person who changes the vibe, or who can at least offer some light in the darkness.

We all need to look out for each other. Despite our apparent differences, so many of us are just trying to be a little less awkward. We’re trying to look like we know what we’re doing, even if we’re in a situation that makes our anxiety spike. I’ve known what’s like to be the life of the party, and I’ve also been the person that no one wants to talk to. Ultimately, I’d like to land somewhere in the middle of the spectrum. I’d like to be having a good conversation, in a quieter place, with someone I do or not not know.

Be the kind of person you’d want to meet at a party, or at any social function, whether you’re having your best day, or your worst. Be the friendly face that can offer a warm conversation. Maybe you do a fair amount of the talking if the other person isn’t quite ready, or they need some time to warm up. Be someone who can talk about anything, or at the very least be someone who can listen. Help people feel comfortable enough to be themselves. Thanks for reading.

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