I Want to Be Socially Handicapped When I Grow Up

Have you ever been at a social gathering and caught yourself watching a man who's desperately trying to pick up a fellow partygoer? I'm referring to the individuals that are visibly uncomfortable, and although you're out of earshot you're all but certain they're stumbling over their words, the conversation peppered with uncomfortable silences and nervous, one-sided laughter.

You're in your cozy corner of the room, beverage of choice in hand, surrounded by friends, and yet the fumbling idiot and his prey of choice have completely captured your attention. It's actually hurting you to watch their exchange because you can tell from the look on her face that any chance he had of winning her favor went out the window a good six minutes earlier...

This has become the verbal equivalent of kicking a dead horse. "Please, just..STOP!" you're aching to say. But you don't. You can't. You can only look on in agony because you've likely been there before and know that navigating such situations must be done alone.

Yeah. That's usually me. The Fumbling Idiot, that is. But a female version of that. And not when trying to pick up men, (because I pretty much never attempt that) but at ANY function where social skills are called for.

Aside from a few rare occasions where I have exercised social prowess, I'm socially inept. Put me around more than two other people and the minute amount of charm and wit I possess miraculously departs. I'm the Fumbling Idiot that, despite valiant effort, never graduates to the cool, collected conversationalist.

The other day I was lounging poolside with two of my female comrades. We were bikini-clad, lying face down (see also: vulnerable) when a man approached my friend and started talking to her. Actually, he was really talking to himself and she was politely nodding her head, but for the sake of the story they were "chatting." Apparently, he works for the same company we do; he knew her name but none of us had seen him before. Although he started the conversation on a casual note, it became painfully obvious that he was interested in her. Maybe she didn't see it, but I and our other friend certainly did as we confirmed through the unspoken female language of eye rolls and arched eyebrows.

You see, he had it ALL WRONG. I had to admire his assertiveness, however, it wasn't long before pity crept into my being and a burning sensation was emanating in my ears, one that suggested they might soon catch fire. Thankfully, our friend got the subconscious "Abort! Abort!" vibes we were sending and proceeded to excuse herself.

As he walked away, I first felt the urge to laugh at his communication missteps but then I reflected on the countless times I've unwisely traversed conversations, the resulting feelings of embarassment, and so I refrained.

But only for a few moments.

And then I laughed. Because somehow, it just seemed fitting.