Sweat pours from my brow, furrowed in concentration. The tension is thick, knifeworthy. I cannot catch my breath, and I’m swaying on my cute little black boot heels. The woman across the room smiles kindly, and the woman next to me offers encouraging words, such as, “would you care for a drink”?
Such is the scene prior to my attending any kind of social function where there will be many people, say, more than two, besides myself. Particularly if one of them is unknown to me.
My lovely mental health professional, who helps with the “Mean Reds” (Truman Capote put it SO well), does her best to make sure I’m generally functional with the world. “Perhaps you should take the dog with you”. However, I’m pretty sure that Intergalactic Whippet Nike does not really want to go to the Farewell Adaptis party at the Hard Rock Cafe in Seattle. For one thing, he’s more the Rainforest Cafe type.
Yes, occasionally, I do make public appearances outside of the Rings of Saturn, er, Middle of Nowhere. Fortunately for me, at this event I had good friends Chaille, Diane and Vanilla Bacardi to help make sure I didn’t end up hyperventilating in a corner.
Needless worry on my part. It was a lovely, fun evening, and so many lovely, talented people – one quite wonders for a moment how such a gifted bunch managed to not pull it off. Then I remember that its the health insurance industry in America as regulated by the federal government, and that we’ll be much more successful at the next project, which involves Higgs boson and a little atom whacking.
I’m kidding about the physics, but I’m not kidding that we had an amazing group of folks. In spite of my paralyzing fear, I was thrilled to see all of them.
Two rather disturbing post-mortem observations, neither of which has to do with my anxiety. First, who is this person photographed on my phone. It’s not so much that it doesn’t look like me, as it is that it looks so much like someone else altogether.
Who is this person?
Second, has anyone seen my black boots?
J