It’s funny how once you’re aware of a thing it clicks. Like with my finances—as soon as I over-drafted, I was all, “Oh yeah, regular bikini waxes during an extended (I mean extended) dry spell? Probably not the wisest investment.” Click.
(Seriously though: extended.)
Same with my avoiding intimacy.
I thought about the time recently when I tried to buy a movie ticket at the machine (so I wouldn’t have to talk to the ticket person, natch) and it wouldn’t give me the discount I thought I was supposed to get. I went through the line, asked the clerk about the discount, and when she told me they no longer honored it, what did I do? Did I buy a ticket from her? No no, I walked out of the line and back over to the machine. Saved myself a good 15 seconds of one-on-one human interaction. Click.
I thought about that night in March when I ran lights for a Monti/Sacrificial Poets show. (It was very technical—I raised and lowered a dimmer switch.) The sound person, with whom I sat in a booth for a couple hours, told the director later that she’d wanted to talk to me—she was a fan of mine(?!)—but I didn’t seem to want to talk. I must’ve come across as a super-snob. Click.
I thought about the conversation I had with a friend a few months back at Nanataco. I made an off-hand comment about being addicted to Facebook, and she said, “Yeah, sometimes when we’re together and you’re on your phone, it makes me sad.” I apologized profusely, called myself a gaping asshole, and changed my behavior. But now it’s clear, of course, that my iPhone was a salve to soothe my intimacy-averse psyche, jangling from all that Being With. Click.
The thing about recognizing I was being a spendthrift is that there was a pretty easy fix. (In case the link breaks, google “snl don’t buy stuff”.)
But the intimacy stuff? I imagine the conversation with the guy in the commercial for that.
Him: “Just be with people.”
Me: “How do I do that? I’m scared of them.”
Him: “You be with them anyway.”
Me: “Can I do this from the comfort of my own home, without any other people around?”
Him: “No, you actually have to be with people.”
Me: “What if I just hang out with my dogs instead? Will I get the same results?”
Him: “No, they are dogs.”
Ugh. I need an action plan. Like, with SMART goals and stuff. Who’s on it?
*****
Three years ago, Redford saved me from almost-certain bovine death.
Two years back, I told the story of how I was an accessory to a crímen. Mas o menos.
I made a threat a year ago. I’m still down for it, Universe! (For real, so very, very extended. Hhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnngggg.)
What you may have missed on Fat CrossFitter: I always have good intentions.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.