Here I Go Again

I am so not good at this whole friendship thing. I know, I’ve said that before here. Old news.

I tried this week to get out of my protect-me-from-all-hurts shell by asking someone to lunch. I invited. She accepted. We worked out day, place, and time. We said “See you then!”

I arrived, about three minutes later than the time we specified. She wasn’t there. I asked for a table for two and sat facing the door so I could wave her over when she arrived. I waited 20 minutes before finally ordering my food, after deciding she wasn’t coming. I didn’t have her phone # stored in my cell so I called someone who I thought might have her number. They didn’t. My food came. I ate. I left and came back to work.

I cried as I sat in the car in the parking lot at work. I had myself a right good little pity party. Yes indeed I was all knotted up in a ball of hurt and confusion and anger. Yes, I was angry. Why did she do this to me? Why do I even try to make friends? WTF is wrong with me? All these thoughts rolled around in that empty shell I call a brain.

The saner, more rational part of my brain tried in vain to reason with me. Perhaps something happened to her that prevented her from making it. Perhaps I misunderstood the day or the place where we were to meet. Perhaps there was some reasonable explanation.

Eventually the rational side won. I went back to work and emailed my acquaintance (at that point I wasn’t feeling strong enough to call her) asking if perhaps I’d had the wrong date or the wrong place and telling her I hoped she and her family were okay. It seemed better than emailing “WTF is wrong with you?!? Why did you stand me up for lunch?” which is what the hurt and angry part of me suggested.

A little more than an hour later she replied via email. She said she had just woken up a few minutes earlier after being hit with a nasty intestinal bug last night and was terribly sorry she missed our lunch. She also suggested we try again when she gets back from a trip she’s making next week.

I know the right thing to do is put on my big girl panties and email back that I’m sorry she’s ill and sure we can reschedule. The hurt little girl in me is balking though, refusing to let go of the pain, not wanting to reschedule and leave me open to being hurt once again.

Eventually the sane, rational side will win out, but not just yet. For right now I’m letting the hurt little girl side have center stage, expressing my deepest and darkest thoughts here on the blog where they belong instead of in the light of day. After she’s finished, the sane, rational me will send the appropriate email and offer to reschedule.

Fighting the social anxiety is so draining sometimes.