*Sung to the tune of “Breaking Up is Hard to Do” because I like making up songs and then getting them stuck in your heads.
I remember a time not that long ago, college to be exact, when it was so easy to make friends in a new town. You ask the person sitting next to you in class, “Do you want to get together and study for this test?” And you’re friends. You ask the person tanning next to you at the pool, “Want to go to a party tonight?” And you’re friends. You say, “Go Gators!” to the person cheering next to you at the football game. And you’re friends.
But now, you’re older. You’re not in school, your colleagues live hundreds of miles away and knew your IM handle before they knew your last name, and the people you meet at organized functions are busy with their families and don’t have time to keep up with the friends they already have.
You put yourself out there, going to anything you can (even when you don’t want to) where you might meet someone with a common interest, putting a big smile on your face, no matter how uncomfortable you feel. Eventually you meet her. A potential girlfriend. You exchange phone numbers and go home happy that you might be able to see a movie one day with someone other than your husband.
As the days pass, you look at her phone number. You want to call, but you don’t. How many days do I have to wait so that I don’t seem overly excited or needy? If I wait too long to call, will she lose interest? Should I wait for her to make the first move? You laugh at yourself. It’s not like it’s a boy you’re trying to date. But when you do finally connect and decide to get together, you realize just how much like a blind date it really is. What if we have nothing in common? What if we run out of things to talk about before our lunch even arrives? What if there’s no chemistry? Lunch goes well. It goes so well, in fact, that you don’t realize four hours have passed since you arrived. The girl has made it through your audition, but did you earn a callback? And so the questioning begins again, and you wonder who this insecure person is and where her confident lookalike went. More than anything, you hope that this girl turns out to be good friend material because you don’t know how many more times you can willingly put yourself through this.
Now is when you tell me that I’m not neurotic, or if I am, that I’m not alone (lie if you must).
On a completely unrelated note…
This blog has been going through a bit of an identity crisis in the past year, so I have decided to part ways with Crafty Cher and give her a new home, reserving this blog for posts about life and writing. If you’re interested in my “artsy” side, you can hit me up at Second Glantz Crafts.