“Did you have a good time on holiday?”
“I did, thanks! It went far too quickly though.”
“Oh, it always does. Where did you go again?”
“The south of France, with my parents.”
“Oh nice, I’ve been there too, it’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“It is! Whereabouts did you go?”
That’s a good conversation, isn’t it? There’s a good flow to it. No awkward pauses. Both parties are equally engaged in what the other has to say. Perfect.
Well, it would be perfect… if it actually happened. As it were, the current situation has me standing in awkward silence with a fellow student outside of class.
There was a conversation before this torture; it went a little like this:
Them: “Hey.”
Me: “Hi.”
Them: “How are you?”
Me: “Good, thanks.”
The end.
Chatterbox of the year, I am.
I know, I know, there’s an obvious solution to fix the premature end of this little chit-chat. I hear you shouting, “All you had to do was ask them how they were doing!” and in response, I say, “I wholeheartedly agree!”
I should have asked them how they were doing. In fact, I was planning to… who am I kidding? No, I wasn’t. But I knew I should have.
I like to think of this as level 1 of a conversation. Maybe 1.5, if I’m being generous, level 1 would be:
Them: “Hey.”
Me: “Hi.”
The end.
So actually, if you think about it, I’m progressing nicely.
Level 2, however, would be getting past the “Good, thanks.”, and that’s the bit I struggle with. I don’t quite know why. Maybe it’s because that’s where things can go off script. Rogue. The conversation can take a life of its own. Terrifying.
I have tiptoed into level 2 once, but it was the failure of the century. It couldn’t have gone much worse unless I punched the other person in the face and kicked them whilst they were down. Luckily, I didn’t do that.
Here’s how it went:
Them: “Hey.”
Me: “Hi.”
Them: “How are you?”
Me: “Good, thanks, you?”
The end.
I was so thrilled with myself for sneaking in that all-important “you?” Yet it apparently wasn’t enough to level up. If you’re wondering why my “You?” was so very rudely ignored, let me break it down for you.
I deduce that they thought I said: “Good, thank you,” which, like any other measly level 1 conversion, doesn’t invite further chatter.
That’s pretty awkward in itself, especially because I was looking at them with a ‘this conversation is still conversationing’ kind of look, and they were looking back at me with a ‘this conversation is over because you’re rude and didn’t ask me how I am’ kind of look. But what makes it even worse is that there was a third party within the listening vicinity of this conversation, and based on their ‘omg you just got blanked’ look, I know they knew I said “Good thanks, you?” and got ignored.
So, naturally, my back started sweating, and I’ve been stuck at level 1 ever since.
Now I understand the confusion. The only difference between “…thanks, you?” And “Thank you” is a letter, a comma, and a question mark, and I’m well aware that my talking-to-people-I-don’t-know-very-well voice is pretty quick and quiet, so it’s easy for them to mishear. I guess I could try to expand my range, maybe go with “Good, thanks, yourself?” or a cheeky “Good, ta, you?”, but rewriting my script makes me feel a bit sick.
It’s a lot to think about, and to be quite honest with you, I don’t mind not speaking to anyone before going into class. Save the stress, you know? I’m quite happy eavesdropping whilst people-watching; I’m level 10 in both of those fields. But unfortunately, small talk is unavoidable when you’re one of the first two waiting outside of class every time.
“Simple solution.” I hear you scream at the top of your lungs, “Don’t be the first one to class.”
Oh, if only it were that simple.
The problem is, as well as being a professional at awkward silences, I also have the fear of being late to EVERYTHING, even if I give myself an excessive amount of time to get there.
I’m always the first to wait outside of class. Wayyy before the bell has rung. I’m probably waiting there whilst other students are still munching on their cereal in the morning. But it’s so nice, isn’t it? Being at your destination, knowing that you’re there and you can’t possibly be late, because you’re already there.
I did, however, build a reputation among teachers for always being the eager beaver, ready and rearing to go. So much so that they would invite me inside instead of having me wait in the hall, which was very nice of them. But then I’d just be sitting in awkward silence with my teacher, which I think might be even worse.
It also just feels like teacher’s pet territory, doesn’t it? And we can’t be having that.
I tried to fix this problem by hiding in a toilet cubicle just down the corridor, the same one I eat lunch in when my one friend isn’t free. You know, just linger in there until 10 minutes before class (single digits is pushing it). But, alas, I’m still the first in line, forever catching the worm.
I’d be great at waiting outside of concert venues or Apple stores if I cared that much.
Speaking of, a lot of people would probably turn to their phones in these situations, but I have a shabby, second-hand Nokia that doesn’t even have Doodle Jump. So I’m forced into the real world.
I should probably mention that this classmate of mine is the embodiment of a social butterfly. She’s popular, funny, and a living Barbie doll, but not in a nasty, Regina George kind of way; she’s actually nice to me in a way that I can tell is genuine, so everything lines up for a perfectly good conversation on her end. But it takes two to tango.
It’s kind of powerful, when you think about it, how I’m able to clip the wings of even the most sociable of butterflies.
It’s not something to be proud of, of course, because believe it or not, I actually want to talk to Nice Regina George.
I know I said I’m happy not talking to anyone, but I think it’s important to separate that from not wanting to talk to anyone. I’m not repulsed at the idea of a meaningful conversation. I may be comfortable not being approached, but I do like the idea of having a chat before class, if I could, without a sweaty back and tangled brain. A friendship could form, after all, which is something I desperately need right now. Eating lunch in the cubicle is a low point, even by my standards.
I suppose it’s something I’m just going to have to work on. It’s kind of like driving–which I’m currently learning to do, too–at the moment I’m still stalling every time I try to lift my foot off the clutch, causing the engine to die before it’s even properly got going. I need to learn to relax, lift my foot slowly, and then start climbing up the gears until we’re off!
Am I talking about driving or conversing? I can’t remember…
Either way, the rules apply. Relax, take your time, and once things have got going, the conversation will drive itself.
If only cars could drive themselves. The aforementioned cubicle comes in handy after my driving lessons, too, when I’ve sweated so much that I need to peel my shirt off to let my skin breathe before I can show myself in public again. But I digress.
I’ll get there. But for now, it’s time for class, where, funnily enough, we’re analysing spoken language, and, shockingly, I’m pretty good!
Jake Grayson Writes 