To be honest, I was never excellent at social, even before lockdown. I used to get anxious on the way to people's houses, knowing often that the first few seconds would define the entire evening, not just what happened, but also how I felt about myself, before, during and after.
It's easier if it's just me as a guest, certainly, and whether consciously or not, I cultivated those smaller moments more often. It feels much more like family that way, and I've loved that.
But one day, big parties might be back, and I might be super anxious again, treading that fine line of wishing I were more extrovert, while also wishing I were at home, being completely introverted.
All of that being said, I went round to my friends' house yesterday for pizza in the garden. It was lovely - nice food in the beautiful big sky with the sun sinking over the houses, amazing friends and great company.
And yet, it still took me ages to feel sociable - a surprisingly long time. Was I talking at the right volume? Would my eye movements be too rapid, my face too expressive? Would I do the right thing, say the right thing? Would I remember how to 'social'?
As it happened, I needn't have worried; they made it easy by being lovely. As with all my friends, they're experts at that, even when I'm not feeling quite like myself. And it didn't take a huge time to adapt back into the smoothness of lovely friendship.
Perhaps this is how it is now: small, informal gatherings, learning how to social again, plus larger zooms, reminding ourselves that no more than two households can be together at once.
I won't miss the big parties. The thought of a crowded room filled me with dread long before a virus made it dangerous - I need no help to avoid the terrors of mingling. If the world really is to become smaller and more intimate, more hygge and less huge, I can cope with that, I think. I can cope with that well.
No comments:
Post a Comment