Let's back up a teensy bit. I had had a really long day at work, got home and immediately went grocery shopping and started dinner, only to realize the dish I had picked out (and started) was going to take too long to cook and we had somewhere to be. I then proceeded to throw a tantrum (aren't I a gem?) while my ever-patient huzzah threw some pasta in a pot.
Then we went to the church so Sir Boy could run sound for worship practice, and I just felt tired and off all night. Cue "moment" on drive home after I realized how insanely boring I must appear to all those around me.
During college, I felt so incredibly free and happy to just be myself, and now I am still struggling to find that. We've lived here in Portland for almost 10 months (woweee!), and I still don't feel like we have any friends who I can truly be myself around. I have small talk or even serious conversations with people, but we never share a joke or have a wee little gigglefest. I can't steal food off of their plates at restaurants or sing them the made-up songs that are always in my head.
I'm tired of being so serious all the time; I'm even boring myself. But I guess in the past I always let the other person be weird first, waiting for permission to show off my self-created genius choreography to that song on the radio. How do I cross that little bridge of polite behavior, when I really just want to burn it to the ground and do a jig on its ashes?
I think I'm pretending to be a grown-up, even though I still don't feel like one. I don't have any answers yet obviously, but my wise man-mate suggested this solution:
"Let's go home and do all those things then! We can dance around and play games and giggle."
Exasperated me: "It's not quite as fun when it's just the two of us."
"We can have our cat join in!"
Dear Lord, there's no hope for us.
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