Peanutsc Profile Blog Joined August 2008 United States 277 Posts Last Edited: 2010-11-19 02:31:19 #1



I wanted to share an unfortunate tale of not fitting in.



Yesterday, I decided that I'd had enough of only leaving the apartment to get takeout food or go to work (I have a part time job now), so I contacted a college friend, "Jill," to see if she wanted to hang out. She said I could come over for dinner and that her roommate and a couple other friends would be there, and it sounded like a nice evening and a chance to meet new people, so I accepted enthusiastically. I was so desperate for IRL (i.e. non-bnet and non-vent) social contact that I ignored the little voice in the back of my head warning me about the painful awkwardness to come.



I have never gotten along very well with girls my age. I had very few female friends in high school, choosing mostly to hang out with a coterie of nerdy guys two years older than I who regularly played Settlers of Catan. In college, I started wearing well-fitting and attractive clothing and considered the virtues of makeup. I was part of a group of 4 girls and we called ourselves best friends and roomed together sophomore and junior year, but then they backstabbed me at the last second for senior year housing and I had to convince my guy friends to let me room with them, which took some administrative wrangling. Senior year was far better than any other year in college.



In spite of my terrible prior experiences, I sometimes get the misplaced urge to participate in a "girls' night" with girls who are more normal - i.e. who actually prefer the company of females. Maybe it's some kind of instinctive attempt at social equilibrium after I've been to a bunch of StarCraft tournaments in a row. Maybe it's my mom telling me way back when that you always have to have girlfriends to depend upon. Whatever the reason, it happens, and it was going to happen at Jill's apartment that night.



I guess the first sign of impending doom was the food. I thought we were all going to go to a restaurant or something, but I walked in the apartment and saw a tall brunette, "Emily" (Jill's roommate), bustling around the kitchen and carving up various vegetables. "Sorry! The food probably won't be ready for an hour and a half or so ... here's some crackers," she said. I nibbled on rosemary and olive oil Triscuit with hummus while I studied the recipe for the main course: orzo tossed with grilled shrimp, pesto, vegetables, and mozzarella cheese. Served room temperature. Not exactly what I'd been thinking.



The other two girls came in bearing a bottle of white wine and a slab of organic herb-infused bread. One of them asked me what I did. "I work for a game developer which makes language learning games for iPhone." She asked me if I was a gamer myself. "Yes, although I play more hardcore games. Mostly StarCraft - do you know it?"



She looked away. "I've heard the name. My little brother is really into all these kinds of computer games."



As I ate my orzo (pretty tasty, actually) and looked around the wooden table at these four girls, all 23-25 years old, all college educated, intelligent, with good jobs, all slender and attractive, I realized something: I really didn't want to talk anymore about hypothetical situations where one's parents met one's boyfriends' parents.



I told them instead about a funny pact between myself and my best male friend from college, "Lee." "Lee and I promised each other that if we were both 40 and single (widowed, divorced, etc.), we'd marry each other." I wanted to explain that it was because we had a great deal of mutual respect and trust and got along well as suitemates in senior year of college, and by the time you're 40 that's probably all you're looking for in a partner.



"But what if you got married? Then wouldn't Lee be sad??" Emily exclaimed.



"Well, no, I mean, 40 is a long way-"



One of the other girls' eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "Omigosh are you engaged?!"



"No."



"Oh sorry I thought because Emily said-"



Emily: "Oh no that was just me wondering-"



Sure I'd want to talk about my boyfriend, but I don't want to talk about him just in terms of getting married and meeting his parents - I want to talk about how brilliant he is, the interesting things he works on, and how he's building a LAN party-optimized house from the ground up. But the inexorable rapids of conversation moved on, to other things.



Like placentas.



Somehow a semi-promising sub-conversation about genetic research brought up placentas. Childbirth. Midwives. Hospital vs. home birth. I slouched slightly in my chair and had an alert, pleasant look on my face while inside I was transported back to junior year of college when my so-called "best friends" sat around discussing styles of engagement rings and MTV's Bridezilla while I stood there, silent, so nearby but so far away.



I wanted to talk about how I just got promoted to Silver league after a month of practice and what that means. I wanted to discuss Facebook vs. Google and how it's so much more interesting now than Apple vs. Google, and why that is. I wanted to tell them about my dreams of changing the way people think about video games. I wanted to release a baneling into the discursive plane and have its guts dissolve all chatter about babies and marriage and midwives into a hissing, neon green vapor.



They started talking about The Red Tent by Anita Diamant and the way society treats menstruation.



There are so many other more interesting things to discuss about that book.



I stood up, thanked Jill and Emily for the lovely dinner and the other girls for their company, shrugged on my EA hoodie, and left.



On the drive home, I used my phone's crappy speakerphone function (I didn't have a headset) to call Jill's boyfriend, "Adam," a very good friend of mine who was more or less a suitemate during senior year of college, and who is the reason I am friends with Jill. He was tired and not feeling so great, and I could barely hear him, but we still had a wonderful 15 minute conversation that felt better than the 3 hours at Jill's.



"Adam, sometimes I think 'wouldn't it be nice to get together with some girls and talk about girly things,' but then I realize that girly things are actually really boring to talk about."



"You are wise beyond your years, Peanut."



We talked about StarCraft, and Facebook vs. Google, and I told him I'd just gotten promoted to Silver league, and he was very happy for me. As I hung up the phone, I felt like I belonged.



Hi TL,I wanted to share an unfortunate tale of not fitting in.Yesterday, I decided that I'd had enough of only leaving the apartment to get takeout food or go to work (I have a part time job now), so I contacted a college friend, "Jill," to see if she wanted to hang out. She said I could come over for dinner and that her roommate and a couple other friends would be there, and it sounded like a nice evening and a chance to meet new people, so I accepted enthusiastically. I was so desperate for IRL (i.e. non-bnet and non-vent) social contact that I ignored the little voice in the back of my head warning me about the painful awkwardness to come.I have never gotten along very well with girls my age. I had very few female friends in high school, choosing mostly to hang out with a coterie of nerdy guys two years older than I who regularly played Settlers of Catan. In college, I started wearing well-fitting and attractive clothing and considered the virtues of makeup. I was part of a group of 4 girls and we called ourselves best friends and roomed together sophomore and junior year, but then they backstabbed me at the last second for senior year housing and I had to convince my guy friends to let me room with them, which took some administrative wrangling. Senior year was far better than any other year in college.In spite of my terrible prior experiences, I sometimes get the misplaced urge to participate in a "girls' night" with girls who are more normal - i.e. who actually prefer the company of females. Maybe it's some kind of instinctive attempt at social equilibrium after I've been to a bunch of StarCraft tournaments in a row. Maybe it's my mom telling me way back when that you always have to have girlfriends to depend upon. Whatever the reason, it happens, and it was going to happen at Jill's apartment that night.I guess the first sign of impending doom was the food. I thought we were all going to go to a restaurant or something, but I walked in the apartment and saw a tall brunette, "Emily" (Jill's roommate), bustling around the kitchen and carving up various vegetables. "Sorry! The food probably won't be ready for an hour and a half or so ... here's some crackers," she said. I nibbled on rosemary and olive oil Triscuit with hummus while I studied the recipe for the main course: orzo tossed with grilled shrimp, pesto, vegetables, and mozzarella cheese. Served room temperature. Not exactly what I'd been thinking.The other two girls came in bearing a bottle of white wine and a slab of organic herb-infused bread. One of them asked me what I did. "I work for a game developer which makes language learning games for iPhone." She asked me if I was a gamer myself. "Yes, although I play more hardcore games. Mostly StarCraft - do you know it?"She looked away. "I've heard the name. My little brother is really into all these kinds of computer games."As I ate my orzo (pretty tasty, actually) and looked around the wooden table at these four girls, all 23-25 years old, all college educated, intelligent, with good jobs, all slender and attractive, I realized something: I really didn't want to talk anymore about hypothetical situations where one's parents met one's boyfriends' parents.I told them instead about a funny pact between myself and my best male friend from college, "Lee." "Lee and I promised each other that if we were both 40 and single (widowed, divorced, etc.), we'd marry each other." I wanted to explain that it was because we had a great deal of mutual respect and trust and got along well as suitemates in senior year of college, and by the time you're 40 that's probably all you're looking for in a partner."But what if you got married? Then wouldn't Lee be sad??" Emily exclaimed."Well, no, I mean, 40 is a long way-"One of the other girls' eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "Omigosh are you engaged?!""No.""Oh sorry I thought because Emily said-"Emily: "Oh no that was just me wondering-"Sure I'd want to talk about my boyfriend, but I don't want to talk about him just in terms of getting married and meeting his parents - I want to talk about how brilliant he is, the interesting things he works on, and how he's building a LAN party-optimized house from the ground up. But the inexorable rapids of conversation moved on, to other things.Like placentas.Somehow a semi-promising sub-conversation about genetic research brought up placentas. Childbirth. Midwives. Hospital vs. home birth. I slouched slightly in my chair and had an alert, pleasant look on my face while inside I was transported back to junior year of college when my so-called "best friends" sat around discussing styles of engagement rings and MTV's Bridezilla while I stood there, silent, so nearby but so far away.I wanted to talk about how I just got promoted to Silver league after a month of practice and what that means. I wanted to discuss Facebook vs. Google and how it's so much more interesting now than Apple vs. Google, and why that is. I wanted to tell them about my dreams of changing the way people think about video games. I wanted to release a baneling into the discursive plane and have its guts dissolve all chatter about babies and marriage and midwives into a hissing, neon green vapor.They started talking aboutby Anita Diamant and the way society treats menstruation.There are so many other more interesting things to discuss about that book.I stood up, thanked Jill and Emily for the lovely dinner and the other girls for their company, shrugged on my EA hoodie, and left.On the drive home, I used my phone's crappy speakerphone function (I didn't have a headset) to call Jill's boyfriend, "Adam," a very good friend of mine who was more or less a suitemate during senior year of college, and who is the reason I am friends with Jill. He was tired and not feeling so great, and I could barely hear him, but we still had a wonderful 15 minute conversation that felt better than the 3 hours at Jill's."Adam, sometimes I think 'wouldn't it be nice to get together with some girls and talk about girly things,' but then I realize that girly things are actually really boring to talk about.""You are wise beyond your years, Peanut."We talked about StarCraft, and Facebook vs. Google, and I told him I'd just gotten promoted to Silver league, and he was very happy for me. As I hung up the phone, I felt like I belonged. "You only get one life on this earth, Tasteless, and if you're not spending the majority of it playing StarCraft, I would argue that it might be wasted." "I couldn't agree more, Artosis."