Let me preface today’s rant with this:
I’ve never been social media savvy. Hell, I’ve never been socially savvy.
I’m what one would call “socially awkward” at best. A professional at the awkward silences, the weird looks, the I don’t know how to continue this conversation blank face tactic, laughing at inappropriate things, flop-sweats when I’m super anxious, and generally just having R.B.F.
So…if I’m not great at in-person interactions, you can only imagine how I come off when I have to rely solely on muh words to convey that I’m not going to kidnap, murder, and flay someone alive so that I can make a moleskin coat out of their skin.
That’s a long sentence that is way too specific and disturbing.
I am the guy that has responded to more than one social invitation with “Why?”
I am the guy that has stood in the corner of a party for hours, only to scream “KITTY!” when the host(s)’ cat appears out of nowhere.
I am the guy that has responded to the simple question “What do you do for a living?” with “Yeah. Me too,”
I am the guy that has gotten diarrhea over upcoming social events. And I’m also the guy that was immediately cured when those plans fell through.
I am the guy that has responded “You too.” to a waiter’s/waitress’ statement to “Enjoy your meal.”
I’m also the guy that internally decided that this is probably an okay response, since eventually that person will end up eating, and I do want them to enjoy it.
Let me be clear–I don’t actually hate social interaction. Nothing is greater than going out for a meal, or to drinks, or pulling an all-nighter, or attending a party, with a group of folks and nailing that social shit. It’s like winning the gold medal in the Introvert Olympics (I should trademark that before Faleena Hopkins does). Or completing twenty minutes on a treadmill without actually dying.
I always accept invitations and make plans with the best intentions, telling myself, “Okay, Tubbly, you’re going to do this, you’re going to be charming, you’re going to make the other person realize how much they mean to you, and it’s going to be the bomb diggity.” Do people still say “bomb diggity”? I feel that they do.
But…sometimes…okay, the majority of the time…that just doesn’t happen.
But I can get over that. I’m a socially awkward introvert, and at this stage in my life, the people I love and care about know that I have social anxiety. They don’t like it, but they accept it.
However, even someone such as myself knows when someone is really bad at social interactions. I’m not talking about introverts, the socially awkward, or people with problems that are just not their fault. I’m talking about the ones that act as though giving you friendship is a gift to you from them.
Early this morning, I was adding new friends on a social media app that I’ve belonged to forever, but haven’t spent much time on it. It’s a niche social media site (for books) and on this particular site, apparently, you can require that someone that requests you as a friend has to answer a question you choose or design. I was requesting a person who seemed to share a lot of the same tastes in books and groups and her profile popped up that before she would consider my friend request, I had to answer a question. What was the question?
“Why would I want to be your friend?”
I’m sorry. What? Why would you want to be my friend? Maybe because we’re on an m-f-ing social media app and that’s what it’s for? This ain’t Facebook, bitch. I’m not going to troll your personal pictures and see you and your family laughing haughtily on a yacht while you drink martinis and kick puppies (I imagine). We’re discussing books. How elite do you think your book opinions are that you feel others should beg you to share them?
Is this something someone would ask someone at a bar that walks up and asks “How are you?” or “I like your sweater vest.” or “I see from your t-shirt that you like Taylor Swift. I rage pretty hard, too.”
No. You would say, “O.M.G. Isn’t Taylor hardcore?!?! I hear she does lines of cocaine off of strippers’ buttocks in alleys.”
So…needless to say, that friend request got canceled. Even a socially anxious and awkward person such as myself can spot “high maintenance” from a mile away. You just lost your chance to discuss the latest cozy mystery with a person that peppers his sentences with “bomb diggity”, lady. Hope you feel that loss every day of your life.
I have no way to close this rant…but I did want you all to know that I added the term “bomb diggity” to the Grammarly dictionary.
P.S. I know the featured image is Donald Trump and he’s not mentioned once in this post. However, no matter how you feel about him, you have to admit that he is the biggest tool on social media. So…I stand by my decision.
Until next time…