On Being Socially Awkward (Most Of The Time)

If only I could do this with style and grace instead of arm flapping and awkwardness. 

I have never been able to figure out whether basic social competency is supposed to come naturally. Honestly, sometimes it seems like everyone else in the world but a few of my associates and I spend hours each day on a tough regime that teaches you exactly how to interact with the people around you WITHOUT being painfully awkward and off-putting. It seems to be something like exercise or studying- it takes what seems to be a bloody lifetime to actually show any results, and even then, all the evidence of my efforts disappear the moment I become lazy. Seeing as everyone other than myself seems to be a natural socialite, this hardly seems fair. However, if there's one message I'd like to impart in all my ramblings, it's that nothing in life is ever really fair.

Having said all that, I think I'm getting a touch better. When I enter a room, I don't immediately dive for the corner any more. I can semi-comfortably chat with the people who I sit near in lectures and tutorials (even though we never end up speaking ever again). I can pick up when I go to a bar, but I can't ever get the guys to talk to me again (and honestly, that's not one I can figure out. Trust me, I love meaningless dalliances fueled by alcohol as much as the next single sozzled first year, but it'd be nice to have a little acknowledgement now and again. Nothing huge, just maybe a "hey, we made out once, let's chat occasionally and never mention it" rather than an "oh my God, I'm so ashamed, please never make eye contact with me ever again."). I probably have more friends than I ever had at any other time of my life, excluding when I was an infant and Mum made all my friends for me, and yet I still feel like I'm lagging behind. While the rest of the herd is galloping ahead with their beer bongs, Sunday sessions and coffee dates, I'm the gazelle with the bung leg, limping along. And everyone knows, if there's one thing you don't want coming with you on a coffee date, it's a gazelle with a busted leg. For one thing, it attracts lions. Anyway, as usual, I'm digressing. Basically, the fact of the matter is, while university is this huge, great mess of social activities and opportunities... I still only have the social skills of a fourteen year old caught masturbating. Okay, I'll give myself a little more credit than that. Maybe a fifteen year old caught masturbating.

Pretend this is a metaphor. I am the duck and the shark cat riding on a roomba is every uni organised social activity ever. 

I think the issue is less the introductory phase and more figuring out how the hell to keep these things going. If there's a formula that causes people to keep on talking to you, I'd love to know it, because the embarrassing is, I can't usually get past that first conversation. Or if I do, whatever energy that goes into maintaining this new social contact quickly flickers and dies. I'll admit, sometimes there's reluctance on my part. I do have this horrible habit of getting rather high and mighty if there's a percieved imbalance in efforts when it comes to making friends. In fact, usually this is how my brain operates:

PHOEBE:  Pfft. All this making friends bullshit is easy. Just start asking people for their names and facebook them if you really think you'll continue to get on well. It's not weird. People add people they don't know all the time. At least you've actually had a conversation with them.

PHOEBE'S BRAIN: But why do you have to be the one to do it? You always end up making the first move! Why can't they want to keep in contact with you for a change? Would it kill them to say hi?

PHOEBE: To be fair, I don't say hi either.

PHOEBE'S BRAIN: BUT WE ARE SHY. You know that!

PHOEBE: Maybe they're shy too! I doubt I'm the only socially awkward person in the world.

PHOEBE'S BRAIN: You know what helps with social awkwardness? Drinking a lot of alcohol.

PHOEBE: *glug glug glug*

Coincidentally, I may mention that drunk Phoebe is markedly better at socialising than sober Phoebe. Fantastic stuff, alcohol. However, I don't know if this applies only when I am drunk (I do feel a lot more sophisticated and charming after a bottle of wine) or when I am drunk and around other people who are similarly intoxicated. The only proof I have regarding these outlandish statements is that I've always ended up making substantially more friends at house parties than in any other circumstance. However, perhaps this is just a universal phenomenon I'm blowing out of proportion for my own needs.

I have been doing a bit of observance to see if I can better my limited social skills and become the stunning, charismatic sex goddess I've always had the potential to be (okay, you can stop laughing now. It's been fifteen minutes. That's just cruel). So far, from what I've observed, I've made the following assumption:

People just walk up to each other, start a conversation and go on their merry way. Rinse and repeat.

What I've concluded from this is that I am woefully inept at being a human. Just walk up to someone? Start a conversation? Surely it can't be that easy, or everyone would be doing it! Wait, what's that? Everyone is doing that? And they've been doing it since humans first developed the ability to speak? Well, then. Clearly the problem is all down to me. When the doctor pulled me out of my mother using a glorified suction cup, they clearly also sucked away the part of my brain responsible for being able to relate normally to other people. Also the part responsible for basic coordination skills. And whatever other people have that allows them to be organised. Okay, so there's a lot wrong with my brain, I know, I know.

But this is one mystery in particular that I'd like to crack.

The reason behind this desire is complex. Obviously, I do like to act as if I don't give two shits about other people most of the time, not in the sense that I'm cruel, but rather that I'm not overly swayed by their opinions. However, like most of my outward behavior, this is something that I cleverly fake. Of course I care about what other people think! It's human nature! It's a complex, evolutionary design there to stop us from committing social suicide! The only reason why I (and the majority of others) try so hard is because we don't want the rest of the world looking down on us. If we truly didn't care, we wouldn't bother getting out of bed and spend our lives reeking of shit and piss because we're too busy watching youtube videos to clean ourselves up. Like it or not, we are affected by the opinions of others. We crave their praise. We flinch at their disapproval. And most of all, we want everybody to be our friends, because there's nothing worse than feeling like no one knows you exist.

The simple fact of the matter is, I know in order to for my life to get better, I am going to have to improve my interactions with other people. You never really know who will be useful to you in life, and even with that selfish motive set completely aside, it just feels nice to know you have a fair few people out there who like you. It's a bit of a confidence boost to know that you can meet people a few times and they're interested in keeping you around. However, this does not mean you get to sit on your arse and wait for the entire world to come to you. If you want friends, you have to be willing to make them. This means saying hello first. It means having the guts to try to talk to someone, even when you're not really sure if they want to talk to you. It means realising that however hard you try, you're still not always going to be successful and that's fine. At least it wasn't because you did nothing. Funnily enough, this doesn't just apply to social interactions- it can be applied to anything in life.

I may not be as charming as I think I am. Truthfully, most of the time, I don't know what the hell is going on with most things, including my own social life. I also can't dance to save my life. But as inept as I am, there's still a chance I'm going to get better with age. And if not, well... actually, fuck that. Things can only improve. Except for my dancing. Pretty sure that's never going to get better, but hey, it's part of my charm.

I can only dream of one day being this fly.