Saturday, September 05, 2009
LIFE BEGINS AT FORTY
Meh. It looks as if another big family gathering is in the pipeline.
Why do people feel compelled to celebrate birthdays with a zero at the end of them by forcing everyone else to enjoy themselves?
Of course, it could all be a scaremongering tactic designed to put the fear of god into anyone who doesn't like family gatherings (i.e., most discerning people). Even if it amounts to nothing, there is a vague sense of impending DOOOOOOOM which is difficult to avoid. Well, er, I have a vague sense of DOOOOOOOOOM at any rate. You mean to say that not everybody
thinks like me?????
Having conversations with other people who are not your friends is vastly overrated and often quite harrowing for a social phobic like yours truly. The importance of families is vastly overrated. Combine the two at some kind of celebration and you have the ingredients for a gruesome evening full of awkward silences, pseudo panic attacks, embarrassment, boredom and indigestion.
So I'm going to throw the comments box open to you, dear reader (singular) and ask for your advice on the matter. What excuses have you used to get out of social events? Not that I'd use them myself of course, oh no. Or you could just tell me your *hilarious* awful family gathering stories and cheer me up. Who knows, the vague sense of DOOOOOOM might evaporate ...
Labels: birthdays, bloody families, boredom, embarrassment, family gatherings, indigestion, social phobia, vague sense of impending DOOOM
Thursday, February 14, 2008
RING OF CONFIDENCE
Arabella suggested that I should post about my recent change of dentist.
Well, as you probably know, I'm something of a social phobic, so anything that means I have to change my usual habits and fraternise with new people leads to all sorts of panic about impending catastrophe. Fair enough, it's beyond straightforward shyness, and means my mind tends to blow any *challenge* out of proportion to what will actually happen. I'm a mentalist: aren't all bloggers mentalists?
"Stepping out of your comfort zone" is believed to be a good thing in the modern world, but stepping outside my comfort zone turns me into a nervous wreck.
The dentist I've been visiting for the past ten years or so seems to be losing his marbles. He only does about two hours work a year, and goes off on holidays to India for six months at a time. He can't seem to do his job properly.
So it was decreed that we should change practices.
Cue impending panic, tsunami-like waves of fear and endless worry about possible potential for embarrassment, bad social interaction, coming across as an idiot to people I've never met before, etc., etc.
I now attend a modern *centre* where there's a nice garden, a state of the art surgery and a bright, airy, clean reception area with a flat screen TV showing property programmes all day.
I'm starting to pine for the old surgery's grottiness. The dusty box full of manky kiddies' toys, the dog eared 1995 copies of Reader's Digest, the wonky old telly with the blurred coverage of This Morning and the general air of gloom. Besides, it was always interesting to see what the receptionist had done with her long, shiny, burgundy coloured hair. Would she be wearing it up? Down? With a few fronds over on one side? She always used to make such a statement with her earrings and clothes too - the more tasteful end of Essex woman style, probably bought from those boutiques in Bl*water ... such a waste of effort for such a dreary job.
Still, the dental check at the new surgery lasted a few seconds, much to my relief.
... except that I will be expected to see a dental hygienist next week. Apparently, I have gum disease, and there's a possibility that I'll need to see the hygienist for another appointment after that. Each visit will cost £38.
Geoff saw the hygienist, who has basically ordered him to buy an electric toothbrush. On average, the cheapest ones cost around £25, plus the heads have to be replaced every few months (£15 a time) and they have to re-charge all day.
We now have to devote most of our income to appeasing the new dental surgery.
I prefer the laissez-faire approach of the old dentist. It's never been my aim in life to have teeth like The Bee Gees. Teeth like David Bowie I can just about cope with.
Besides which, it looks as if I'm going to have to step outside my comfort zone for ever and ever, on a regular basis. It's the quickest route to a nervous breakdown I can think of ...
Labels: comfort zones, gum disease, nervous breakdowns, social phobia, The Bee Gees
Thursday, August 09, 2007
FREDA PAYNE
Unconfined joy in our house recently: Geoff's sister has married.
It's not the fact that she's got married that's the source of joy. It's the fact that she eloped to Gretna Green with a couple of witnesses and only had a celebratory meal afterwards with the two sets of parents. Therefore WE DIDN'T HAVE TO ATTEND A WEDDING.
More summers have been blighted in my life by HAVING TO ATTEND A WEDDING than I care to remember.
Weddings are shite at the best of times. In the case of this one, I wouldn't have known anybody beyond Geoff's immediate family. Given that most of the guests would have been from South London (in other words, *bubbly*, *cheery* and *extrovert*) the likelihood of our being able to hold a conversation with them would have been virtually zero. In fact, we would've been driven into a corner, keeping ourselves to ourselves, and have people say under their breaths "they're a right stuck up pair. Some people don't know how to have a good time, do they?"
As I've said here before, having to socialise with people is one of my least favourite forms of activity. In fact, the older I get, the less I want to socialise. I should imagine that within the next fifteen years, I'll be living in a cave and avoiding any human contact whatsoever ... with any luck.
Unfortunately, very little provision is made in society for people who want to *keep themselves to themselves*. Weddings are supposed to be grand gestures where hundreds of guests have a right old knees up to celebrate the happy couple's union and conveniently forget the fact that they'll probably be divorced within the next few years ....
Er, anyway, to conclude: everybody thinking of tying the knot should elope. Well, it would be absolutely lovely not to have to attend a wedding ever again, wouldn't it?
It's not the fact that she's got married that's the source of joy. It's the fact that she eloped to Gretna Green with a couple of witnesses and only had a celebratory meal afterwards with the two sets of parents. Therefore WE DIDN'T HAVE TO ATTEND A WEDDING.
More summers have been blighted in my life by HAVING TO ATTEND A WEDDING than I care to remember.
Weddings are shite at the best of times. In the case of this one, I wouldn't have known anybody beyond Geoff's immediate family. Given that most of the guests would have been from South London (in other words, *bubbly*, *cheery* and *extrovert*) the likelihood of our being able to hold a conversation with them would have been virtually zero. In fact, we would've been driven into a corner, keeping ourselves to ourselves, and have people say under their breaths "they're a right stuck up pair. Some people don't know how to have a good time, do they?"
As I've said here before, having to socialise with people is one of my least favourite forms of activity. In fact, the older I get, the less I want to socialise. I should imagine that within the next fifteen years, I'll be living in a cave and avoiding any human contact whatsoever ... with any luck.
Unfortunately, very little provision is made in society for people who want to *keep themselves to themselves*. Weddings are supposed to be grand gestures where hundreds of guests have a right old knees up to celebrate the happy couple's union and conveniently forget the fact that they'll probably be divorced within the next few years ....
Er, anyway, to conclude: everybody thinking of tying the knot should elope. Well, it would be absolutely lovely not to have to attend a wedding ever again, wouldn't it?
Labels: bridezilla, elopement, social phobia, South London
