It took me a long time before I realized that I really don’t like people. Now, to clarify, if you are already one of my “people”, then obviously I like you. So, to actually go out and meet new individuals, well, let’s just say, that is really stepping out my belief system. That system that says, “You already have met enough people. Why are you meeting more?”
I stepped out of my comfort zone, and agreed to meet some women for dinner. Connected by our kids, I went into this knowing no one. I think one of the most vulnerable things you can do is to walk into a room of strangers and start introducing yourself. And that is exactly what I did, except they didn’t introduce themselves back, so I played a delightful game of matching whose kid belonged to who and went from there. It was bizarre.
I stuck it out. Smiled, ate my dinner, listened as they commiserated over an issue dealing with someone else, and realized that this is why I don’t like people. There were one or two in the mix that I chatted with, but other than that, well, there wasn’t much there. Maybe in a smaller group it would have been different. Maybe first impressions are unreliable. Or quite possibly, my summation is correct and these ladies aren’t my cup of tea.
Nevertheless, if asked again, I will go. Why? Well, aside from getting to leave my testosterone filled house, I get to give this another chance. I mean, the second time is bound to be better since they aren’t technically strangers anymore. What has happened to me? I turn fifty and I am giving people “second chances”. Talk about a mid-life crisis. The reality is that my perception could have been distorted. That I went in with a certain attitude and didn’t give it a decent chance. And while I will venture out with these ladies again, there is hope that my next life will offer me the opportunity of being a hermit.
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