Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Every once in awhile I catch a glimpse of why I'm so awkward in social circumstances. I always try to be as polite, courteous and friendly as I possibly can be with people, but for some reason I just don't feel like I fit in when dealing with them. I'm terrible at small talk and really have no capacity for exchanging pleasantries. It's just not how my brain is wired.
Yesterday I stopped to get a haircut, a scenario that I dread every time it comes to pass, as the barber's seat is one of those places where small talk is pretty much expected. To tell the truth, I normally go to an Asian barber near my work; one of the primary reasons for this being that the language barrier ensures that I don't have to discuss anything more than the weather or how awful the traffic is. But yesterday I wasn't near my normal location, instead finding myself trapped at a shop populated by native English speakers.
I try. I really do. I talked about the weather and the traffic and the things you can do downtown, and I smiled and laughed where appropriate, though internally I didn't give a dingo's kidney for what was being said.
Before long the topic turned to movies. I pointed out that I almost exclusively go to a theater downtown that shows 20-30 year old movies, while my stylist mentioned that she had seen "Meet the Browns" the previous week. (For the record, I am so tired of seeing Tyler Perry's name and face on every single DVD released for the last 3 years, I could scream.)
From there we began discussing "older" movies, namely "I Am Legend". This is where my inability to deal with humans really came to the forefront. I present our conversation, as best I can recall it. (And yes, I actually DO talk like this.)
Her: I seen that "I Am Legend" film with Will Smith, you seen that one?
Me: Not as of yet, though I've heard pretty good things about it.
Her: I didn't think I'd like it, cuz Will Smith is all alone for the whole thing. I was afraid it'd be like that Tom Hanks movie....(she pauses, trying to recollect)
Me: Castaway.
Her: Yeah! He was awful in that movie. Why the hell he talkin' to a ball?
Me: (I didn't even LIKE Castaway all that much, but come on, he talked to the ball to try and retain some of his humanity since he was in a situation where he was entirely socially isolated. Wilson was his way of dealing with this.)
Her: But I thought Will Smith did aight in this one.
Me: Yeah, I need to sit down and watch that one. I read the book, but I haven't seen the film.
Her: They wrote a book about it?
Me: Well, yeah, the movie is based on the book by Richard Matheson. It was written in the 50's. 54, I think?
Her: Oh really?
Me: Yeah, and they've made two other film versions of it, "The Last Man on Earth" and "The Omega Man".
Her: Hunh.
Me: And George Romero has openly admitted that it was a large source of inspiration for "Night of the Living Dead". So, in reality, it was the progenitor of the modern zombie film. You can thank it's influence for those and the more modern day contagion films, like 28 Days Later.
Her: ...
Me: ...
At this point you could pretty much hear the crickets chirping. From that point forward she had very little to say to me. And once again I just retreated into my shell, praying that this whole experience could be over soon.
This is the case for me, all too often. I have a bad tendency to delve way too much into trivial information, forgetting that the majority of people I come across don't care, and in many cases are a bit creeped out by somebody that can recall information that quickly. My rather formal methods of speaking with strangers don't help much, either.
Providing boatloads of information where a mere word would suffice has always been a quirk of mine. I tend to make associations very quickly and I rather enjoy verbosity, particularly in conversation. In fact, on a few occasions in my childhood I was called upon by my friends to completely horrify or offend some female who had taken too keen a shine and would not go away. Ten minutes around me could ensure that they'd have no interest in my friends any longer, if it meant they'd have to be exposed to me on a regular basis.
For example, here are some things that have crossed my mind and been spouted out before I realized that the other party likely didn't care:
Upon hearing that a customer's name was Gary Gilmore I pointed out that he was executed in Utah in the 70's by firing squad, was the first person executed after the reinstatement of the death penalty and that both of his corneas were transplanted after death.
Pointing out to a first time passenger in my car that the cd we were listening to (Buried Dreams by Clock DVA) was rumored to be the album that was in Jeffrey Dahmer's stereo when he was caught. I also made note of its themes of sexual sadism and serial killing.
Discussing at great length the methods by which chicken nuggets and hot dogs are created, usually while eating chicken nuggets or hot dogs with somebody.
All of these things are prime examples of why I just don't seem to fit in with the majority of people I meet. Couple that with the fact that I don't tend to like people in the first place and you can imagine that I'm a hoot at parties.
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