I woke up in a closet.

I’m not hanging out with you because I’m afraid of you.
February 18, 2012, 6:43 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,

I’ve got this social problem when it comes to groups of girls.

Last night I was out with friends at a bar, and everyone sequestered themselves off within one big booth. For awhile I was talking to a kid who’s friends with a former roommate of mine, but I started to feel weird that all of the other girls were sitting together and laughing, so I got up without saying a word and started to play Big Buck Hunter — which, by the way, I’m getting really good at. The kid followed me over and started to play. He was asking questions and joking that he sucked at it more than even though he’s a boy. I walked away and bought another drink. When I got back to the table the kid was there again. We kept talking and that was fine. I was in the mood to have a conversation. But I looked up and saw a circle of girls filled with one good friend of mine and several acquaintances and started to wonder why I almost always wind up outside of a group like that. I finished my drink and said to the kid something to the effect of “jesus, groups of girls intimidate me. it’s time to go.” and if that wasn’t any indicator that I’m a crazy person and wasn’t trying to flirt with him at all, then I don’t know what would’ve been. I went out onto the street and hopped in a cab that snaked through throngs of drunk people holding each other in the street shouting nonsense and hailing cabs and thought over and over “what’s wrong with me?”.

I’ve always been able to have 1 or 2 really good girlfriends or I’ve at least been able to have normal friend interactions with a girl in one on one instances. I do feel intimidated by girls who can get together and laugh really loud and scream about an inside joke. I feel like I’d be judged if I sat there and watched them, or that I’d say something unfunny or irrelevant if I tried to join in on the squawking. So, because of this, I tend to find myself talking with a group of guys instead. Maybe half the time I am more interested in what they’re talking about anyway, but I realize that it must seem like I’m vying for their attention and I’m trying to be cool if I hang out with them instead of girls. That realization alone makes me feel even more self-conscious about my position in a room full of girls who are holding another arena of… not quite conversation in some cases, but what feels like a competition of who can be the loudest and come up with the funniest saying that gets repeated and giggled at from that moment on into the future. Phew, this is a really odd problem.

So, my goal is to get over that issue of being afraid of groups of girls and to try to change and feel more in line with my lady counterparts. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, if you will. In the past I’ve been able to at least seek refuge in my boyfriend in those circles, but I don’t have one anymore and I don’t want girls to think that I’ve got a “if it moves will I fuck it?” kind of mentality about guys when I always run to hang out with them instead in a social situation. This is probably going to be like teaching an old dog a new trick, but I’m going to try really hard to go against my immediate impulse and to be socially acceptable and not potentially scoffed at.


Because I obviously have the worst life EVER
July 11, 2008, 4:59 pm
Filed under: Food and Drink, movies, Tragedy | Tags: , , ,

I have to admit that I have a problem with Williamsburg. It stems back to the preconceived notions and stereotypes of the people there that my big sister instilled in my 12 year-old self. “The neighborhood was gentrified by a bunch of artists who pushed out the Puerto Ricans, Beacon’s Closet and Salvation Army are usually picked-over by hipsters, and most of the boutiques there are owned by Trust Funded kids’ parents.”

Whatever. For awhile, those things didn’t keep me from thinking that Williamsburg was a cool place to go to for a few hours to get vintage duds or Polish diner food. Nowadays, I live along the L train and find myself stopping by there more often.

Like I said I was going to, I went to McCarren Pool for WHAS. I was in this crowd

I didn’t have a blanket, so I was sitting on concrete. Plus I got there around 7:30, so I was sitting for an extra long time. Anyway, it may have been because I’d been awake since seven in the morning working and running around, and it may have been since I’m in this weird transitional/frustrated rut right now. BUT! But, I decided that the reason why I get so irked when I set foot on Bedford Avenue is because it reminds me of High School. It’s the High School where all the rich white kids who could afford good weed and beers other than Keystone Light congregated under the transparent financial wing of their parents. Most of the kids there are wearing clothes that appear to be from a flea market but are probably from Urban Outfitters, they’re smoking cigarettes, have cool tattoos, and for the most part seem really carefree.

Do I just need some lexapro or something? While I was sitting in this crowd of transplanted suburbia, I was dehydrated, tired, and I wasn’t talking to Scott. I kept doing the annoying girl thing where I complained about how thirsty I was, but when he offered to get me something I said “Eh, maybe later.” Sometimes I open my mouth to complain for the sake of complaining when I’m not in a good mood. It sucks. (Later on he went to get water and came back with these free Starbucks Coffee/energy drinks in tall-boy form).

As we waited for sundown, people zig-zagged around us, stepping in front of us, between us, and behind us. I got really sick of the disregard for my bag and my face, which came really close to being stepped on a few times, that I tried to rearrange myself so no one could get through. Nothing worked, and I finally said “Fuck it” in light of my defeat. I guess my annoyance provoked Scott to yell “Go back to Jersey!” to a group of happy picnickers that were being rowdy.

I couldn’t really focus on the movie and ended up staring at the entrance to the pool or into the windows of the massive condos. The more I thought about how unhappy I was there, the more I realized I was just a jealous brat about it all. I wished I had brought a picnic and a blanket with me. I wished I wasn’t looking so un-trendy in my boot-cut jeans, long socks, black converses, and white blouse (which for all intents and purposes could’ve looked great paired with other leg and footwear). And I wished I wasn’t so unhappy. Up until I got off the train earlier in the evening and started off in the wrong direction — where I proceeded to stumble on uneven sidewalk and hear some people laugh, hence the High School parallel — I had been pretty excited to be out.

Whatever the matter, I decided that I have to be really excited and really prepared for whatever event I’m going to. For example: last year the crowd at Daft Punk sucked. Majorly. I was bumping hips and elbows with people I wouldn’t even want to shake hands with. It was hot, and people were sticky. I complained a little because it felt like we were all in the midst of heat stroke, but I had a blast because I’d built the last 4 months of my life around going to this concert. And come on. ROBOTS. Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest is another contender (ha). It officially sounds like I’m trying to highlight my victories, but it looks like I’m self-conscious about my bad moods at events, and I need some kind of assurance that I won’t be that way forever.

And whatever the next major event will be: A dance party at PS1, The Yard, She & Him, a bar, I’ll have to remember not to be such a freak so I can stop feeling like an old lady shaking her fist at today’s youth.