We were invited out this afternoon to spend time with some friends that live across the green from us (quite how we have not got together in the past is anybody’s guess, seeing as they live perhaps 200 yards away). It goes without question that we had a wonderful time - although I did find myself sat there, wine glass in hand, grinning, and realising just how lucky I am to know so many amazing people.
Here’s the thing. When I was young, I was shy. It’s never really left me - the being shy thing - to the point that I will often over-compensate in group situations. Those who know me well enough realise when I’m doing it - if I’m being overtly “social”, it’s not really me- it’s the alter-ego. In reality I’m the quiet guy that sits in the corner of the party watching from a distance, grinning at the kids antics, sipping wine, and thinking the host looks lovely but doesn’t know how to tell her in the affable way many might without it looking a bit strange.
As always seems to happen at parties I fell away from the whole “guy chat” thing that seems to always evolve, and found myself stood in the kitchen with all the women. I really don’t understand that - how groups of men and women somehow seperate at parties. I’m not going to get all psycho-analytical about it either - I just know I’m a bit of an odd stick at times. For an example, you need to look no further than this blog. How many other men do you know who write a journal on the internet? An old-school blog charting daily life?
Enough of the introspection.
Today made me realise something in line with the comment I wrote while closing out last night’s post about the nature of social networks - I reallyneed to reach out more; invite people over, and forge real-world friendships with real people who can drop in for coffee, or wander to the coffee shop with when escaping from the mayhem.
The internet and social networks are fine, and they provide a wonderful outlet, but they’re not the same as sitting next to your friend at the end of a party, drinking the last of the wine, eating the last slice of pizza, looking around the room, and seeing smiling faces, candid conversations, good will, and happiness.While thinking just now, Dickens words about Fizziwig’s party from “A Christmas Carol” came to mind (as they often do in my remarkably strange brain)…
He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count them up: what then. The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.