Awkwardness Abounds

Oh, do I abhor The Awkward! I really, really do. Awkwardness makes me feel so uncomfortable. Disconcerting. Uneasy. I much prefer having confidence. Self-assurance. Control.

Valentine’s Night had several of those little awkward moments that made me want to crawl into a ball under a piece of furniture and close my eyes, just like one of my cats does when we have a party. Block the icky out. Go some place in my mind that is friendlier and safer and completely non-awkward.

The first moment occurred when we were dining at a Puerto Rican restaurant with some dear friends of ours. We had been sitting in this teeny, colorful dining room for about two hours. A Latino man was entertaining us in the corner by singing Puerto Rican songs and playing guitar, and every now and then he’d throw in an American folk ballad for good measure, like “Under the Boardwalk.” I was enjoying dirty rice, fried plantains and breaded pork chops, and laughing with my friends over some personal stories. And then the first awkward moment hit.

A couple walked over to our table. They said they had seen us come in, and wanted to say good-bye on their way out. I hadn’t laid eyes on them 10 years. Literally. The wife, at one time, had been a friend-turned-enemy. She was a toxic authority figure in a tender season of my life, and I ended the relationship in February of ’99 after much soul-searching. And it wasn’t a pretty, neatly-wrapped ending. It was messy. And now here she was, a decade later, and they had been sitting very near to us in that tiny room for two hours without our knowledge. And possibly watching and listening. Ewww…. it felt violating and mildly threatening, and extremely awkward. And it will make another whole blog post, if I feel I need to write about it. But, filled up and fortified with our good friends’ presence, and laughter, and a tiny glass of chardonnay, I was able to be gracious. I pushed past The Awkward and gave her a hug and engaged in a few moments of light conversation. And then they left and it was over. And we were on to dessert. But I kept thinking about THEM….watching us…stalking us…..

Super Hubs and I drove home later, and entered our quiet house. A few teenagers were supposed to be mulling about, because Butterfly had gone to quickly drop Rock Star off at a movie, and she had assured me she’d leave a few of her friends in the house to babysit the sleeping Little Squirt. But the house was….silent. Too silent. I walked through the kitchen and entered the family room. Two teenagers (who were not mine) jerked up from their horizontal positions on my couch, quickly straightened their hair and their clothing, and babbled, “We were just watching TV.” Uh huh. I wasn't born yesterday or the day before. I fully recognize a little Valentine Hormonal Tango taking center stage on my denim couch.

Awkwardness.