Desparately In Search of Conversational Partner...

There are those of us who are the epitome of social grace and wit—and then there are the rest of us. You, know, the ones who can count the number of times (on one hand) when we actually said the insightful, droll thing in the moment. More often, this repartee comes to me days later upon completion of a long hot shower or as I’m driving to work re-replaying the scenario in my head.

I felt like that yesterday, while at lunch with my soon-to-be-leaving boss. The conversation started out well enough. I restrained myself from saying the goofy shit that was playing in my head and kept with the basic, which is always a good thing. And then, something snapped. Maybe it was when he laughed at a little joke I made, or gave me a compliment on the eloquent way I had commented on my assessment of living in the South as a Yankee.

I couldn’t stop myself. Really, like a 200 lb gorilla on a tricycle barreling down the tallest hill in town. The goofy me took over while Ms. Sophisticate watched from the corner of the room, eyes closed, shaking her head in disbelief.

There are times when being an academic is really cool, but this is not one of them. The solitary hours we spend writing, thinking, and reading have dire consequences for our social lives. The bottom line is that I desparately need immersion in a social setting so that my conversational ability does not continue to atrophy. But who? Where? I’m a used to be Lutheran turned pseudo-Bhuddist, so the Black Baptist church won’t exactly work. Other preschool moms won’t cut it either. Racial politics at A’s preschool are obvious—although other moms are friendly, we probably won’t be invited to any birthday parties (an issue for another post, another day).

The one thing I wished for before we moved is to find a kindred spirit with whom I could establish a friendship. Time has shown me that I should give it a year—or two—and put myself in places where this could happen. Until then? I won’t cut myself off from other opportunities to practice not making a ditz out of myself in conversation.

Looks like I’ll be shopping for a church dress. But I’m not straightening my hair. And definitely no hat. At least not till Easter.