Ta-Dah

“And for my next trick, I’ll pretend to be someone that I’m not, so that maybe you might like me more.”

I used to be the life of the party. My smile never left my face. I know this because for days after an event my jaws would ache. I used to leave parties exhausted. Not from any physical exertion, I mean how much effort does it take to stand around with a drink in my hand and nod, no my exhaustion was the result of the effort it required for me to be “on” all night. I’m not an “on” person. In fact, I am quite comfortable now admitting that in most ways I’m very much off in my thinking, but that is another entry altogether. I’m actually a rather shy and quiet person, but somewhere along the way I learned that being shy and reserved isn’t as desirable as extroverted and entertaining. I can’t be sure where this quirky, comic relief part of me came into being, but I suspect that perhaps it developed in the commercial spots between Gilligan’s Island and the Brady Bunch. I learned many of my social skills from Days of Our Lives, Dynasty, Dallas and Knots Landing. No wonder there is so much drama in my life.

Being a natural born people pleaser and social chameleon, skills honed through generations of genetic refinement, I was able to adapt my personality to whatever the situation required. Naturally, as a result, I’ve avoided parties much like lobbyists avoid audits. It’s a shame too, because parties can be a lot of fun whether a person is the life of it or well, not the life. I refuse to think of myself as the death of a party. No, that is usually the person who brings their vacation slides. No, I’m not the death of the party just more comfortable listening instead of talking.

Many times I can be mistaken for the help. I tend to hide in kitchens, washing up glasses, getting the next tray ready to take out, even serving, so I have something to do instead of trying to make small talk. Did I mention that I suck at small talk? No? Well, I suck at small talk. I usually find one thing out about someone and then repeat their answer back to them over and over again varying it slightly hoping they might not realize I’m stuck in an infinite loop. After a while even they are bored with their children’s occupations, or the great deal they got on their car, or what color they painted their house.

I’m finding that so much of life is about expectations. When I look out and accept what I believe are the world’s expectations without factoring in my own unique skills and quirks, I’m destined to feel like a fish out of water, the odd man out, the exhausted party guest who keeps looking at the clock and wishing it was time to leave. I’m not smooth. I’m not polished. I’m not Alexis Carrington, beaded gown, professional make-up, “I’m a tramp and I like me” confidence. I’m not J.R plotting and planning and always trying to sum up a room to my advantage. I’m not someone who cares what fork a person uses or if they put the salad plate in the right spot on the place setting. I am just a guest invited into someone’s home. What I forget is that I am the person that was invited and so it’s okay for me to be myself. It’s okay for me to be the real person I am. I’m the one setting up the performance expectation, not the host. I’m the one trying to replicate a scene from a fictional “B” television series mistaking it for a reality show.   It's not the world's expectations that are the issue.  It is my interpretation of those and the assumption that I'm to conform to them.

I can’t always distinguish between the performers and audience members at a party. The truth is that some people are just naturally outgoing. Some people do feel at ease in a crowd. It is important though that I realize I’m not alone. There are others out there in the crowd, glancing at their watches and searching for excuses so that they can escape to the comfort of the kitchen, out of the spotlight where purpose replaces personality and tasks jump start small talk which eventually evolves into conversation. This is where the introverts hang out, like the dark corner of the gym at prom, this is our stage and where we can practice being ourselves. Life ain’t so tragic in the kitchen or that corner. It’s actually pretty nice there, safe, comfortable, and a home away from home.

“Ta Dah, and for my next trick I will be myself, no applause required.”