socii

[helenic]

I felt I acquitted myself fairly well at Rupa's party on Saturday. Having been thrust at Jasmine (who I had never spoken to before) by my flustered hostess, there was definitely an initial awkwardness at my failure to make conversation, but soon I found myself caught up in writing erotic fridge poetry with Rob and Danny, ate a couple of tomato and herb crisps (I'd only had 150 calories previously all day - not deliberately, just through circumstance) and had a few glasses of cheap white wine, all of which contrived to put me more at ease.

I'm still far from confident in my ability to converse in a group; I either realise suddenly how loud and self-involved I am being and how much I'm embarrassing the group, therefore withdrawing in shame and self-loathing to a silent corner of the room, or I mistrust my own ability so much I deliberately prevent myself from joining in the conversation. On Saturday, however, whether because of the wine or the friendliness of most of the people there, I found being sociable not only easy but enjoyable, and before long ended up with Jasmine, Danny and Rob having a long and aimless chat in Rupa's bedroom. The night unwound itself around couples, fights and make-up sex, love and tears - all punctuated by feather boas and stuffed llamas and Spanish porn and just the right amount of alcohol. I subsided at around 3am on Rupa's floor and drifted through wine-enhanced dreams while the party continued to rage downstairs.

Sunday was even more confidence-building - I managed a passable conversation with Rupa the next morning, despite my hangover and intense nervousness, and Danny even seemed to approve of my presence in the group downstairs - or perhaps it was just his openness and engaging habit of eye contact that deceived me. Walking with him, Rob and Spencer to the station, I intended to leave for home but (I'm still not sure whose idea it was that I join them) ended up going with them to Soho for frappucinos and a Chinese meal. I sat on the grass with them in Soho square while they discussed the failings of gay culture and fashion, and I embarrassed myself by eating so much it was remarked upon, perhaps to compensate for the day before. I can't remember what else we talked about - photography, perhaps, and tattoos and livejournal (a little) and other aimless, amiable things. "Today's been strange," someone remarked at one point, and I agreed - "especially since I only met you last night." But apparently the lack of awkwardness was mutual, and I let myself believe it, content for once to put my insecurities to one side.

Tonight I met my old "friends" from school at a barbecue, and while it was not as awful an affair as it could have been, I was painfully reminded how bad I was at social contact at school. Although I've improved since then I could see it in the way they looked at me when I spoke, in their low expectations of me - and despite my best efforts I was horrified to see myself slipping into that old role, saying all the wrong things, interrupting people with humourless, self-indulgent anecdotes, making unfunny jokes, offering too much information about myself. I still don't know the rules of conversation unless I'm with someone I know intimately, and I'm not sure if my lack of self-esteem stems from it, or whether it is the cause of my difficulties. Either way, coming back to Leicester where no-one is aware of my re-invented, likeable (I hope) Cambridge self is disheartening. And while I was genuinely pleased to see some of them, it's an experience I'm loathe to repeat.

Comments

[ex-silentsig791.livejournal.com]

I'm using my old journal again, and have added you - /voiceover is now defunct.

- hope you're OK until you're with the boy again. x

[libellum.livejournal.com]

gotcha.

I'll be fine. It's not until late evening that it begins to get to me - the urge to pick up the phone is just overwhelming. I'm just dependant on phone conversations, I think. x