Tag Archives: social awkwardness

Racial Profiling

Forgive my blatant racism, but here’s a list of the most respectable group of men (from most to least respectable), by race, based solely on who has been standing up to give me their seat on the subway in this last trimester of pregnancy.

  1. Black men. All the medals. imgres-1imgres-1imgres-1Seriously. Every. Fucking. Time. Yesterday two black men actually started playfully arguing over which one of them wanted to give me his seat more. So I settled the dispute by letting them both stand, and placing one butt cheek in each seat. Everyone was a winner.
  2. Hispanic men. I’d say at least 3 or 4 hispanic men have stood for me in the past month, but yesterday’s was my favorite– covered in bright, intricate tattoo sleeves and roughly 30 piercings, he not only got up immediately to give me his seat, but he silently offered me his unopened bottled water as well. I just wish I hadn’t assumed his silence was a language barrier and replied with “No, pero gracias– muchas MUCHAS gracias senor!” because he answered with “Yeah no problem” and ZERO accent.
  3. Asian men. Only one Asian man so far, but he stood up and did a subtle little bow in the process, which just made me feel like pregnant princess royalty. It was so fucking adorable and stereotypically Asian (in the best of ways) that I’m going to go ahead and let him represent his entire race in politeness and decency.
  4. White men. What the fuck is wrong with you? This should be an easy competition for you to win based on the sole fact that there are statistically more of you. Yet not ONE of you has stood up. Not ONE! For real? Is this a Trump effect or have you guys always been THE WORST and I just never noticed? (meh, false. I dated and hated most of you, so in that sense I DID notice, but now we’re in a whole new playing field of douchbaggery). Funny how you catch a glimpse of me and suddenly receive the world’s most important, life-or-death text, which of course excuses you from getting up because obviously you’re now just too busy and panicked, what with all these urgent crises blowing up your phone THE EXACT MOMENT I STEP ONTO THE SUBWAY, despite there being no wi-fi or cell service. But just know this– I’m on to you. Even if you ARE immersed in an emergency (you’re not), there’s no way your peripheral vision is missing the huge boulder that is my midsection, especially when I make it a point to sigh heavily and line up my grotesque popped-out bellybutton thisclose to your stupid liar face. And I’d like to send out a special, personalized “fuck you” to the young white guy this morning who let the woman sitting next to him juggling 2 grocery bags and a stroller WITH A BABY INSIDE OF IT stand and offer her seat to me, and still did NOTHING. Obviously I did not take the woman’s seat and insisted she please not get up, but this was your opportunity to help out a pregnant woman and an overwhelemed mother in one fell swoop, and YOU BLEW IT, SIR.

So that’s it. Those are my findings*. Did I really need to break this down by race, and was doing so kind of offensive? No, I did not. And yes, probably? shrug_1f937 But I notice what I notice and thought it was an interesting trend, and unlike people who claim “I don’t see race,” I’d like to counter with “Ok, but I have eyes.”

*Findings of this study** are based solely on MY experience and observations alone. They should not be generalized to apply negative stereotyping to any particular group of people, which shouldn’t really be an issue as all races above are presented in a complimentary manner. Except, as a reminder, white men. They are all dicks.

**calling this a study is an insult to the word study.

 

As Usual, I’m Making New Friends Left and Right

We just moved to a new apartment building last week, and I kid you not, Eric already knows the name of every person who works here, from the 7 different doormen to the maintenance crew to the service entrance security guards. He passes them in the lobby and with a huge, happy-to-know-ya smile, says, “Hey, how’s it goin [insert worker’s first name here, because I sure as shit don’t know it]!”, as he is already everyone’s best friend and probably in some form of fantasy sports league with them, as he was with the doormen in our last building.

Me? I’ve interacted with one person. Unwillingly.

It happened in the gym this morning.

Me: <“exercising,” headphones on OBVIOUSLY, and generally minding my own business>

Guy: “Wow, look at you! You’re ready to pop!”

Me: “Well, not quite yet, but yes, end of August…”

Guy: “And you’re allowed to exercise? That doesn’t seem safe! You’re sure that’s safe?”

Me: “I’m on a back-supported bike made for seniors, cycling at level 1. I think I’ll be ok!”

Guy: “I don’t know, you’re making me nervous…”

Me: “Well, you’re making me uncomfortable, so I guess we’re even.”

Guy: < Silent. Shits self. >

So it’s safe to say Eric and I have comparable social skills.

The unfortunate thing is that I know the guy meant no harm, and yeah, dude, OF COURSE I’m making you nervous. You think this situation doesn’t make ME nervous every time I look in the mirror?!

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The fact that I am not straight up face-planting every time I stand is truly defying the laws of physics (I assume. Can’t actually quote any laws of physics.)

But sorry, man, I’m in the home stretch here and the hormones win. Between my rapidly expanding frontal load and a preexisting discomfort with strangers talking to/looking at/being near me, I’m in no mood. If my rascal pouch makes you nervous, that’s fine, but keep it to your damn self.

So yeah I’d say we have about one year in this building before I make so many enemies that it’s simply too uncomfortable to stay. Took me about two years in the old place, but pregnancy is going to speed up this timeline a bit.

But that’s perfectly fine– since college, I’ve established a pattern of living in a place only JUST long enough to serve my needs and then moving out right before EVERYONE writes me off as the unfriendly, awkward weirdo-tenant, and it’s totally worked out for me so far.

Meanwhile, as I type this, Eric is enthusiastically shaking hands and exchanging “good-to-meet-ya!” pleasantries with yet another building occupant.

A corgi.

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Shit. We can never move.

 

 

This Isn’t Even Embarrassing It’s Just My Life

As I’m leaving an hour-long tutoring session…

Kid (to her mom): “Mom, you always say I have to take those off (points to nape of my neck) but Miss Emily didn’t!!”

Me (confused): “Wait, what?”

Parent: “Something tells me Miss Emily did not know it was there. And I was going to try to let her leave without embarrassing her, but I guess that’s not happening now.” (opens drawer, grabs scissors, cuts this off my sweater and hands it to me):

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Oh. So you’re taking a different approach to this game.

At my bachelorette party, my friends had Eric record answers to a bunch of questions, which I also had to answer, then we checked to see if our answers matched up.

First question: WHAT IS YOUR “PET NAME” FOR ERIC?

Me: “Oh, well. I usually just call him ‘Babe,’ but I also sometimes refer to him as my Corgi. My little Corgi. [confused friends faces] You know, because he’s really excitable and has short little legs!”

Eric (on video) “Just ‘Babe.'”

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No Secrets in THAT House

“Oh my god, have so much fun [at your bachelorette party] tonight! At my bachelorette party I got so drunk, there were MULTIPLE strippers, and there are just these ridiculous photos of me hanging off of stripper poles and, like, penises EVERYWHERE.”

— Parent of former student, just now on the street, while holding her 5-year-old daughter’s hand.

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The Perils of Marrying an Extrovert

I get into the elevator with my headphones on, reading an email on my phone. An older man gets into the elevator with me. After a few seconds riding in silence…

Man: “So, I hear you like sauvignon blanc?”

Me (pulling out my headphones): “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Man: “You like sauvignon blanc. Especially from New Zealand.”

Me (nervously laughing): “That is correct…”

Man: “David [who I assume is another neighbor] spoke with your husband-to-be. Nice guy! Eric, right?

Me: “That’s right…”

Man: “And you’re getting married this summer, congratulations!”

Me: “Thank you so much! We’re pretty excited.”

Man: “But yeah, you two should join us for our wine parties. David and I are both big collectors.”

Me: “Yes, that would be lovely! We’re great at drinking wine!”

Man (as we reach lobby): “Ok great, so now we know each other. We don’t have to be silent on our phones in the elevator and hallways. We can have a conversation when we see each other. Isn’t that nice?”

Me (laughing): “You know what? It really is nice!”

This is literally my worst nightmare.

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A Little About Myself

I got a referral for a wedding hair stylist and gave her a call…

Stylist: “So tell me a little about yourself.”

Me: “I am a sweaty, frizzy-haired Jew. I have lots of anxiety. I feel prettiest when I wear my hair down, but, due to my aforementioned sweat problem, that might not be an option for the wedding. But the idea of wearing my hair up is giving me anxiety, because I never wear my hair up for special occasions. And now I’m starting to sweat just thinking about it.”

Stylist: (laughs) “Ok…”

Me: “Sorry, was that not the information you were looking for?”

Stylist: “Well most people start by telling me their name.”

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Only Your Best Friend

The kind of convo you’d only have with your best friend….

Best friend: “Your ring! Oh my god! Give me your hand right now (grabs my hand)– let me look closer. How many carats is that?!”
Me: “I don’t know…”
Best friend: “You don’t KNOW?! Oh, honey, you better find out. Who doesn’t know how many carats their ring is?!”
Me: “I don’t know…it’s his grandmother’s diamond, I’m not even sure he knows…”
Best friend: “Oh he KNOWS. Trust me. You go home tonight and you ask him.”
Me: “I’m not really concerned with that kind of stuff…”
Best friend: “Well, you’re wearing the ring so GET concerned, honey.”

Only this wasn’t my best friend. This was a random lady who lives in my building. Who I met ONCE.

This is why I don’t talk to people.

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