Top 4 Socially Awkward Situations for this Socially Awkward 20-Something Year Old

(An idea totally stolen from Cracked.com)

Changing in the Locker Room
Where, for the LOVE of GOD, do you look when you are in a room filled with middle aged woman walking around with their boobs all out and then they try to talk to you and all you can think is “those are your boobs”? And what is the protocol when you are at the gym with a person you don’t know very well and you have to change in front of them? Like, I don’t want that person to see MY boobs. But YOU try changing in a tiny toilet cubicle when you can’t put your feet on the ground because…ew, and you’re kicking the cubicle walls and people have to ask you if you’re “okay in there”. And then you scream “YES I’M FINE” when really you just want to leave and never come back because you’ve been scarred for life and everyone knows you as the girl who has conniptions in the bathroom stall.

Doing Anything in the Bathroom
Why do people think it is okay for them to have a conversation with you while you’re peeing? We all know what is going on, don’t even try to pretend that you can’t hear the DISTINCT and UNIVERSAL sound that is peeing. It is not normal to have a conversation about the weather when one or both people are answering nature’s call. And what about when there is more happening than peeing (you know what I’m talking about, don’t make me say it)? Especially when you are in the bathroom with another socially awkward person and you’re both sitting there waiting for the other to FINISH UP ALREADY so that you can do your thing in peace. And then you realize that you are both waiting for the other person to finish because you both have to do that embarrassing thing that isn’t peeing and it becomes a sort of stand off between you two until someone gives up and leaves to go find another empty bathroom because they can’t stand the awkwardness of you both sitting on the toilet doing nothing. And during that time before one of you leaves, you CERTAINLY don’t want to let anything go because you actually recognize the shoes of the other person and realize that it’s your co-worker that totally gushed about your shoes and how amazing they are because you’re so stylish, so you KNOW she’ll know it’s you, too.

Riding on the Train
This isn’t much of a surprise, is it? But it’s still a really awkward situation when all you want to do is catch up on some sleep on the train because you get up at the God forsaken hour of 5:30am and you can’t control the way your body moves, what your face looks like, or how deeply you sleep (haha, it started to sound a little sexual there). Because more often than not, you WILL wake up with a jump and gasp and flail your arms about because your body knows you are sleeping in a foreign place and your subconscious is concerned about you not waking up in time for your stop. And you may even end up kicking your legs out to full extension, which then makes your entire body jerk and you narrowly miss the person in front of you and you can just TELL that everyone in your vicinity is desperately trying not to laugh because they are staring too hard at their hands for it to be normal. But then if you don’t wake up and some super nice person gently nudges you awake, you still wake up with a gasp and a shriek of “oh GOD” because you realize that the train is empty and it’s really embarrassing and then the nice person that woke you up is clearly wishing she hadn’t because she doesn’t know what the hell to do with your reaction. So you just try to stay awake as best you can by listening to music and reading, but you still end up with your head rolling all over the place and you know what, you just have to deal because those trains are amazing at lulling you to sleep.

Sweating When You Shouldn’t
I don’t know about anyone else, but I sweat a lot during any sort of physical activity. And I don’t mean a vigourous CrossFit workout or running to the candy store before it closes. No, I mean walking up the stairs or carrying some files to the file room. I just sweat all over the place and it’s really hard to hide. Especially when I can feel it dripping down my neck and I know that the person I’m talking to is trying not to notice but I can SEE their eyes following that tiny bead of sweat as it makes its way down, and when I try to discreetly wipe it away, they’re judging. I can tell. And I know they’re thinking “man, that girl sweats a lot! What’s her deal? Now it’s dripping down her forehead” and you’re still having a conversation but now you’re not thinking about what you’re saying, you’re just willing the sweat to STOP PLEASE, which makes you more nervous and makes you sweat even more. And because you stopped thinking about what you’re saying, you’re now talking about the embarrassing date you had with that guy the other night when the conversation should be about work because, after all, it’s with your BOSS. Or maybe the person you’re talking to is just a good friend or a guy you’re interested in and you’re sweating because, like, it’s hot, but it’s not noticeable because it’s thankfully stayed out of eyesight, but then this person tried to hug you since they love you or whatever. And you know they’re thinking “oh, that’s disgusting” but they can’t really say that and then YOU don’t know what to say so you both pretend that there was no sweat. But there was. And they will never forget it.

I feel awkward just writing this all down. I feel like I’ve given everyone a look into the dark recesses of my social awkwardness, and now things will never be the same again. But that’s ok. It’s alright. Because it needed to be said.

Love,

Bella

Some Random Thoughts...Musings, If You Will...

(This is my happy place that I venture to a lot in my mind. One day, I will go for real...)

Here are a few things that I can’t help but mention today. I don't know why.

Children
I'm not a huge fan of children. Gasp, shock. Whatever. There are a select few that I love, but they are the exception. This, however, is not the case for most women (aside from my Mom). It seems that the normal reaction for them is to coo and gush and talk like babies in those extremely high pitched voices that I only reserve for puppies and bottles of wine.

Reputations
I don’t know if people in general like me or just think I’m weird. I ger an awful lot of weird looks. And that's fine. I mean, I laugh at weird moments and tell jokes that don't often make sense to most people, but if they think I'm crazy and want to make fun of me, they can at least let me in on the joke. I like a good joke. I can handle it.

Looking Cool in Front of a Hot Guy
Whenever I try to share a joke with a hot guy, it never turns out how I want it to. I mean, I've been in situations where he'll say something, and my process will literally commence as follows: “Is he joking? Is that a joke? I can’t tell. If he’s joking, then I should joke back. But what if he isn’t joking? What if he’s serious and he’s actually disagreeing with my [utterly hilarious] thoughts about [insert mundane topic here]. That would be pretty stupid but it might happen. Oh wait, he’s smiling. He’s looking like he expects a witty comeback. It was a joke! Quick, say something cute! The "something cute" usually involved poking fun at him and then giggling. And he'll laugh. And then I start planning our wedding.

Acting like You Know All about a Sport to Impress a Hot Guy
It's common knowledge that most men like sports. And most Canadian men like hockey. As such, I decided to do a crash course on the teams in the playoffs (all I knew is that the Leafs didn’t make it) to find out who was first and what players played on which team. You know, just in case a hot guy wants to talk about hockey. Unfortunately, I recently asked a very attractive man what team he picked in the fantasy draft. I didn’t realize you picked players and MADE your team. (Which, now that I think about it, makes much more sense than my way of just picking an already established team. Because that wouldn’t be fantasy. That’s all reality, baby). So he asks if I mean which players are on his team, and I of course act as though that’s what I meant the entire time. I figured that if I just kept acting like I knew what I was talking about, maybe I would get myself invited to watch the games with him. At his house. In his bed.

The Arrogance of Blogs
See all of the sections above for a first hand account of what I mean.

I was thinking today about taking a blogging course that teaches one how to write a blog for fame and profit. And then I got thinking about how the conversation with the teacher would go, should he single me out for my beauty and ask what my undoubtedly witty and intellectually stimulating blog was about. What would I say? What could I say besides “it’s a blog about my non celebrity life that discusses issues such as my love for chocolate, my adventures on the train, the embarrassment I undergo whenever speaking to a male, and the pain I put my body through during CrossFit. It is, admittedly, a shockingly self absorbed space of redundant facts; a recollection on my normal, mundane life that I feel people should not only want to read, but which should deliver to me a copious amount of money and worldwide fame.” Because really? What else is a blog besides a place for even the most modest person to talk purely about themselves, their beliefs, and their values and then want people to be interested in it? A place to canvas for issues relating to the greater good of people? Yeah, sure…

Happy People
I met this one really nice lady at the hospital I volunteer at who is very sweet but who I think might turn into that creepy alien lady like in that movie when she asks the girl about her unborn child and then goes crazy. It’s called Legion (I didn’t know that, I had to ask CD – also, it’s not about aliens. That’s what happens when you don’t watch a movie but try to reference it). Anyway, this lady is very positive – almost oddly so, as though she’s living in a perpetual state of high-ness (granted, she IS a mental health patient, but still). According to her, every day is special because it has something unique to it, so she loves every day. I love this lady, but her positive outlook on life is seriously messing with my pessimist views. But she always calls me beautiful, so I can’t be annoyed by her too much.

Now, there is another volunteer who does not call me beautiful, so I can be annoyed by her all I want. She talks with such a high voice that I jump when she says things. No one is that happy, okay? Don’t pretend like you’re that excited to see me. I know you’re not. Mostly because I am not that nice to you.

Stupid People
A guy called me once asking to speak to someone that they had just tried to call. I asked if they had been connected to that person’s voicemail. He said no. So I asked if that person’s voicemail had told him to press zero and that’s how he got to me. He said yes.

Honestly?

For anyone that does read this blog, I hope you know how much I appreciate that you do.

Love,

Bella

That Search for Mr Right

Part of this blog is supposed to be about finding “Mr Right,” yet I’ve not written anything on the trials and tribulations about actually finding that one guy to make all the others look mediocre, the one that makes you feel like you’re the only woman on earth that is worth his time. (And I’ve recently had a lot of questions and “advice” on how to meet a nice man. I’m going to direct these people to this blog the next time that happens.)

Granted, most of what I write has something to do with men – after all, my life is one giant embarrassing moment when it comes to relations with members of the opposite sex. And, while it makes for some great fodder for this blog, it’s not spectacular for finding that special someone.

I’ve done the online dating thing, I’ve been set up with friends of friends, and I’ve gone to bars with the hopes of meeting my future husband. But what happens? I end up snorting with laughter, making jokes that he never understands, or revealing far too much about myself. (That's ABOUT, not OF. We won't go there...)

I’ve also tried to meet guys at the gym, but then I realize that I look like a giant beet gasping for air as I run (jog) at 4.5 mph with aching knees, which, of course, results in a hobbling run that largely resembles one of those creepy antagonists in horror movies that can’t run after their victims because they’re actually mutants that don’t have properly working limbs.

Ahem.

I spend most of my time in the weight room of the gym grunting and sweating my way through clean and jerks and squats. I’ve watched the guys in the gym watch me. Oh, there’s no shortage of being NOTICED by the men, they just notice me for all the wrong reasons. I don’t know if they’re intimidated or emasculated. Either way, it’s not the kind of impression I want to give to my future husband. Who do you think he’s going to go for? The woman he can sweep off her feet and carry off into the horizon, or the one that can, quite literally, sweep him off his feet, do a couple deadlifts, and then shotput him into that very same horizon?

And as for being around my older brothers’ friends that, of course, would fall in love with me at first sight? Yeah, that’s literally never been an issue (seriously, ask M – he would readily agree).

Most of the people that read this blog know me well and, therefore, know that they have to take my writing with a grain of salt and understand that there’s a lot of humour behind what I say (although most, according to M, feel very uncomfortable when I make fun of myself and to that I say…suck it. It’s a joke).

But really, when it comes to meeting The One, it’s not high on my list of priorities right now. My career is just getting started, I’m only just moving out on my own, and I’m focused on me right now. That’s not to say that I wouldn’t like to have an awesome boyfriend that could compliment where I am in my life, but I’m not desperate for one.

That being said, who doesn’t think about the time when they meet Him (your future husband, not God – that would be an entirely different post)? But I’ve yet to meet someone who gives a shit enough about me to take me as I am, warts and all (er, not that I have warts. Guys that might be reading this? I don't have warts, 'kay? Promise). I don’t want to have to compete for his affections, or wonder who else he’s “romancing.” I don’t want to have to worry about what I say to him or that he'll lose interest if I do something stupid. And I don’t want to be with a guy that I can’t wait to leave to go hang out with my friends. I want to already be with my best friend when I’m with him. But, even when I believe that I’ve found Him (again, a man, not God), something always happens that lets me know that, nope, not yet, have to keep looking!

The way I see it, though (which may not be entirely beneficial to me because, evidently, I am hardly lucky in the men department), is that I can be picky about what I want, because when I meet someone with whom I can be my complete self, I’ll want him to feel the same way with me.

Yes, the thought of being in an exclusive relationship makes me hyperventilate and gives me an unnerving need to run away. But when I meet a guy that understands that, is able to deal, and sticks with me despite my issues? That’s how I’ll know that I’ve met someone special.

I need chocolate.

Love,

Bella