Well, well, well. Yesterday was certainly a big day for the blog, wasn’t it? (Not sure what’s up with all these skeptical italics. I’m in a weird mood. Per usual.)
Not only did I find out that a stranger had re-blogged me, I THEN discovered it was after finding me through, of all things, Google. THEN she left a comment that contained what may quite literally have been the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. (Well, Joey has said nicer things to me. But it would be weird if you told me I was the best thing that ever happened to you.) Anyways, her name is Stacey, and we’re going to be friends because we’re both awkward and appreciate how that quality makes us normal, not weird. (Ish.)
And on top of THAT excitement, I made over the blog. And who doesn’t love a makeover? (If you’re viewing this on your phone or Google Reader, do me a solid and just go to the proper URL to at least see my handiwork. You don’t have to comment, I just need to believe this is something people will at least notice.)
I moved the right-hand column to the left, but I haven’t decided if it’s staying there. It might be too much change for me at once, ya know? Anyone have strong thoughts about that either way? (By “strong,” I really mean slightly more than neutral. I’m not that picky.)
Anyway, I guess the message for Friday is, “I really, really appreciate anyone out there who reads this and I especially appreciate the people who pass it along. You’re an upstanding citizen in my book, and if we ever meet in person, I owe you a high-five.”
This weekend I have two parties (gawd, I’m like, so popular!) and a sewing session with Heather. (Side note! Heather has started her own blog, though, fair warning, it’s all about a wife getting into WOW to better relate to her husband and it includes a lot of gamer terms, so it may not be your thing. I just like to promote my friends, ya know?)
Here’s to new blogs, new looks, and new friends!
I’m a pretty friendly person. I can hold up my end of the conversation at parties and, if trapped in an elevator or train car, I can crack jokes or at least offer up something to talk about.
The thing is, while I’m really good at chatting when approached, I rarely go out of my way to engage strangers in conversation. I could just blame the fact that I spent the last couple of years in Manhattan, where engaging strangers in general is a risky, risky game, but the fact is, I’ve always been a little stranger shy. (I blame those McGruff videos from the first grade. Stranger danger is real, yo.)
Which is probably why I’m always more impressed than weirded out when somebody I do not know tries to strike up conversation. You KNOW how I love when someone hits on someone properly, but here I’m talking about any kind of friendly outreach.
It’s widely agreed that making friends when you’re an adult is near impossible. In school you have, well, school to throw you together, along with extracurriculars, teams, and groups. As an adult, sure, you have work, but it’s just not the same. And if the guy sitting in the cube next to you wants you to join a color guard with him, you’re concerned, not excited.
And remember all those crazies in Manhattan? How are you supposed to know who is just saying “hey” and who wants to wear you as pajamas?
For example, today I went out for lunch to a nearby burrito establishment. I was alone. There were two gentlemen in line behind me that I didn’t pay much attention to, except to notice that one of them kept looking at me every time I said something to one of the people behind the counter.
I sat down, and one of the guys sat at a table near me. The other guy finished getting his soda, then walked over to my table.
“If you’re looking for someone to have lunch with, you’re welcome to join us.”
This was the first time I looked at him. He seemed nice, around my age. He also had a ponytail.
I was slightly taken aback. First of all, did it look like I was “looking for someone to have lunch with”? I had ordered and sat down to eat. I didn’t stand at the head of the dining room staring wistfully at all the other kids who had someone at their lunch table.
Secondly, PONY. TAIL.
I was so caught off guard, I almost said something like, “Oh, um, ok!” Instead, I remembered my stranger danger rules and politely told him I was fine. (Because I was. I had not been “looking” for someone to eat with.)
He sat down, and I realized that his cohort ALSO had a ponytail. Seriously? Is this coming back? Please tell me it isn’t coming back. Even I’M not wearing a ponytail today. Clearly, I spent the rest of lunch making up stories about how these guys worked at Best Buy, but they spent their evenings playing bass and keyboard (respectively) for a WOW-themed rock group. (No one else does this? Just me? Moving on.)
The point is, sure, it seemed weird at the time, but you have to give the guy credit for reaching out to a stranger. And now I can’t stop wondering what we would have talked about. I’m guessing movies, even though they really would have wanted to discuss the plans for band practice that night. Obviously.
You’ll all be happy to know that I am feeling much less sore today. Jess, Heather, and I went and got massages last night. Best. Idea. Ever. And considering I get maybe one massage every two years (at best), it was certainly a treat.
The only interesting thing was that Heather and I had male massage therapists. (Heather, who actually IS a massage therapist, doesn’t like the word “masseuse,” so I’m just going with what she says.)
Mine was nice enough. (He reminded me of Spencer from The King of Queens, so that’s what I named him in my head. I’m sure he told me his actual name, but I am simply terrible at remembering real names when someone looks so much like someone else whose name I DO remember.) He was quiet and professional, which are two of my favorite qualities in a massage therapist.
Incidentally, we had to fill out a form at the beginning that asked us what qualities we look for in a massage therapist. I cannot begin to tell you how tempted I was to just fill in nonsense. “Loves animals, keeps in touch with his or her family, good sense of style but not a slave to trends…” It’s amazing anyone talks to me.
We also had to list our profession on the survey (can I tell you how much of a tool I felt like when I had to write “social media specialist”? Or, “professional facebooker,” as Heather refers to it). Heather, of course, had to write down “massage therapist.” Which, it turns out, meant her massage therapist felt like he had to impress her the whole time.
Which, apparently, involved quizzing her on which muscle he was working at the time. Here’s a little lesson for massage therapists out there: Quiz bowl does not equal relaxing. You’re welcome.
**Side note: I managed to use the term “massage therapists” seven times (now eight). If this site was about massage, my SEO rankings would be through the roof.**
Regardless, we all managed to have a pretty good time unwinding and letting someone pummel our sore muscles.
Plus, the hubster got me flowers, a card, and a bottle of wine for our six-month anniversary! I know what you’re thinking: What a thoughtful, handsome man you have married! And I say, yes! Yes, he is. And back off, he’s mine.
Other than that, not much to share today. Except that I’m weirdly tired despite going to bed at a responsible time and having a latte this morning (plus the massage!). Y’all know I don’t even pretend to understand my body.