Since when?

Apparently, I’m socially awkward.  Yeah, its weird.  When did this happen, you ask?  I’m really not sure.  Maybe after high school when I lost touch with friends or maybe when I immersed myself with family life after two kids.  I don’t know.  Either way, it happened.  And for the most part, I really hate it.  I mean, when you talk to lots of people on a regular basis, yet no one calls or texts you when you get home, ever, it can make you bonkers.  Because of this, I’ve tried to do a little self-evaluating.  I’m not above the notion that something is wrong with me or my attitude.  When I was in school growing up, I always had friends.  I prided on the fact that I had numerous buddies to sneak and pass notes to in class or sit with at lunch or even spend the weekend with.  I found little pockets of people who were like me, and we hung out.  We always had fun things to do, and I mean fun in a good and bad way.  My definition of fun now is a lot different from then, but it still has one common denominator: friends.  Now as a 34 year old mom, I feel like an outcast, socially awkward, and  different.  My husband is a great companion and he is my best friend, but I need girl friends.  Ladies who understand my life and want to share theirs with me.  Ladies to have coffee with or share a bag of popcorn with at the movies.  Is that so much to ask?  I’ve tried to hit it off with co-workers, and there are some surface friendships, but nothing bone deep.  I miss those friendships that you swear your friend must be your long lost sister from another life.  I miss being able to call or text about things that matter and laugh about those that don’t.  People at work say I’m really nice, and they’re so glad I work there (the last guy was a jerk), but I’m not invited to the weekly Friday take-out club.  The one time I did get to partake of this exclusive group was when I just so happened to be in the right place at the right time.  They were in the middle of ordering Jason’s Deli and I just asked if I could order too.  They said yes, but they’ve never asked me if I wanted to order out since then. It hurts, but what can you say?  Please invite me, please invite me!  I’m 8 years old again not getting a birthday invitation and everyone else did.  That really didn’t happen, but you see my point.

Now, I’m sitting here wondering why I wrote this.  I’m dumping on you, ol’ sweet reader, and I’m sorry.  I know life is too short to worry about such things,  and darn it I’ve wasted three minutes of yours.  The one true friend, the one tried and true friend I still have and always will unless something horrible debilitates me is writing.  It frees my demons and makes me feel human, flawed and glorious.  Now, if I can just figure out when I have time to do that between the now three kids, two jobs, and married life… I will be fine. I hope.


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