I went to a party tonight. You can tell because there are shirts and hangers all over my bed. My outfit was approved by Tracy via texted photos. I got compliments on Solo's shoes by the wildest dresser there: a girl whose bedroom apparently consists of a bed and racks of clothing. That's what she told us; her friend confirmed it. I consider myself complimented.
I was not the first to leave- I stayed until the party started to peter out. Can you believe that? And wait- I talked to people I didn't know! I even started conversations! Some attempts failed (it's hard to talk to a married couple), but overall it went very well.
I was also complimented by my friend, who called me "an amazing artist who makes really marketable designs." What?
Today, while shopping for a gift for my friend, I was at a bookstore and saw what a book signing looks like. It looks lonely. I imagined an empty store, but it's worse than that. Everyone shops around you while you sit at a table and try to look busy. I learned that I should probably avoid bookstores on book signing days, because I will feel bad for the author and buy his book. I went to ask him questions and was so red already from being socially nervous that I launched right into a question while he was saying hi. Being Social Lesson #1: Don't forget the greeting.
The back cover said he was a teacher, so I asked him about that. We chatted a little (good!), and then he asked if I had school-age children. I said "I did," and then I had to add more because it sounded like I killed Ant. I explain that it was my ex's kid, so now I'm realizing that I'm sharing my irrelevant dating status, redder still because I'm not interested, but now he thinks I am. He continues the (struggling) conversation, but switches pronouns to "we," politely indicating that he is taken. Shortly thereafter, his wife comes and stands nearby, politely indicating that the conversation is over.
I was only trying to be nice, dude. I felt so bad for you sitting there alone, straightening your piles of unsold books that me and my sad conversation skills limped over to try and offer a break from the uncomfortable silence.
"Can I sign that for you?" he asked.
"Sure."
Jenny,
It was great meeting you!
Xncjskcbskaofjeu (illegible signature)
Sure. Your book had better be funny.
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