I think we’ve established that I talk a lot. I also gravitate to those who equally talk a lot. I certainly have friends who are introverts, but for every quiet friend, I have two talkative friends. And we like to get together and talk, A LOT.
As a stay-at-home mother who does nothing but work, my days are spent juggling a toddler while, you guessed it, working. I am also a mother who deprives her child. Our playdates are far and few between and she’s stuck with me all of the time–minus those two half-days she’s in school each week. Her BFF is our nanny.
Ok, so this isn’t completely true, but it feels true.
My 2-year old can hold her own when it comes to dominating the conversation, but I’ve found myself desperately joining any conversation with people who are polite enough to acknowledge my presence, even though they don’t know me.
I overhear a group of friends having a conversation and I awkwardly start making eye contact, as if to say “Right, so crazy [insert whatever subject they’re discussing],” so I can innocently and naturally join in on their laughter.
Occasionally in the evenings if the nanny is over, I like to head next door to Soapstone Market, a local grocery + café + bar which you’ve probably seen me post about on Instagram a time or two. When traveling alone or by myself I like to work in coffee shops or bars.
Despite my mother pointing out that sitting alone at a bar makes me look like a prostitute, I’ve always preferred to do this, regardless of the perception. I know it’s not the most proper for a lady of my age, but when you’re alone it’s a welcoming spot to perch when seeking desperately to burn off some talkative energy. And there’s always the bartender so there is a witness of someone knowing I’m there, which is good for safety-purposes. I also consider myself one of the non-annoying, non-creepy patrons which I imagine, if I were a bartender, would greatly appreciate.
At Soapstone Market last month I overheard a couple talking about Trump–which is very common these days if you live in DC. In the past I have always been the minority in terms of my political views. These days it’s so easy to find fellow restaurant patrons with a similar perspective, so I tend to get a little too excited if I overhear someone sharing an opinion I share. And if the conversation I’m stalking happens to reference this past season’s SNL lineup? I unintentionally start laughing awkwardly as I try to wiggle my way into the group sitting closest to me to talk about “Spicey” and his Segway podium.
The problem though is leaving the conversation on top. It’s not like I can talk politics for that long. At some point I’ll “Segway” into talking about Segways . . . “And have you ever been on a Segway and I always think tourists look so funny on Segways, and I’d love to go to a tourist city where I know no one and ride on a Segway just so I know what it’s really all about.” You get the picture. At this point I’ve lost my audience–including some of you.
Occasionally I find myself in a trap. The trap being, I forced myself into conversation with a stranger, but turns out they’re crazier and more chatty then I’ll ever be. This is God’s way of punishing me for my eagerness. Or I call it Karma.
It’s difficult when you’re a talkative person, but are surrounded most often by just a toddler. I just have so much to say. And though I try to come off as charming and interesting–so that others will happily invite me into the conversation–occasionally I hear people talking about a subject that so excites me I just have to chime in at all costs. In the end I’ve not only embarrassed myself, but probably lost a potential friend as I was so eager to engage in conversation with someone other than a toddler that I came off as too eager.