Don't Even Get Me Started

I moved about a year and a half ago and a few months ago I kind of took stock of the number of friends I had made in my new hometown and let's just say that didn't take long. Aside from a couple of work friends I really didn't have much to show for myself. Plus, I don't really believe that work friends actually count as "friends" until you are able to sustain the friendship outside of the working relationship. So technically unless I quit my job tomorrow and am somehow able to maintain those friendships I actually have made no new friends since I've moved.

So in an effort to kind of get out there and meet some of the locals I decided to join a softball team. It seemed like a pretty harmless way to get out there and mingle with some of the laid back country folk in my area. I'm starting to wonder if I might end up with more than I bargained for.

My first interaction with my new teammates was during a fundraiser we held a couple of weekends ago. I wish I had known in advance how painful it was going to be because I would have offered to donate both of my kidneys to science just to raise enough money to avoid this extremely painful social experience.

So for starters I didn't know anybody there. This obviously shouldn't have been surprising since this was what got me into this mess in the first place. What a vicious cycle this was turning out to be! Not to worry though I knew that once I got my magnetic personality into gear I'd have this group in the palm of my hand. Unfortunately, I quickly realized that I was going to need a plan B stat. As I sat alone in the corner of the room feverishly planning my next move, one of my new teammates came by and started talking to me. Well this was a relief. I guess the old magnetic personality was doing the trick after all. That or the sad and lonely look on my face. Either way this was progress. So we started talking and by “we” I mean her. Turns out she wasn't really looking for someone to talk to so much as someone to talk at. Well, beggars can't be choosers right? It sure beat sitting and thinking of ways to fake a diabetic coma...or so I thought.

My new friend worked in the mental health profession and so I thought that this would mean she would have many interesting stories to tell. Unfortunately it turned out to be more a case of "birds of a feather...". So in the two hours she talked at me she never did get around to any interesting stories. Instead she talked about the most random crap. Like when she told me in detail about the breast reduction surgery she had just had. I thought to myself at the time "I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong but did we just meet 10 minutes ago?" After I thought about it I kind of understood where she was coming from. If there's one thing I've learned about successful teams it's that honesty and communication are paramount. The last thing I'd want to happen is that a couple of months down the road I find out that the person I've been shagging flies with for the last two months used to be a 34 DD and I had no idea. Talk about being blindsided! (Actually, she was a 34FFF but that's just one of the many insignificant details she felt the need to share with me.)

Finally, at some point between the talk of breast reduction surgery and how to properly zest a lemon a couple of our other teammates made their way over to our table. Sure they may have just seemed like a couple of regular people but to me they were saviours, my own personal United Nations relief mission if you will, except useful and with an actual mission. After a few minutes, one of the girls pulled a Houdini act and actually managed to interject herself into the one way conversation. Somehow she ended up talking about a new refrigerator she had purchased. Under normal circumstances this would be an instant cure for insomnia for me but because it was someone else talking I was truly riveted. She could have been speaking Swahili at this point and I would have been transfixed. Sure enough, as this girl starts to talk about her new appliances my old friend "The Dominator" pipes up and says "Oh, don't even get me started on appliances." I instantly thought to myself "She doesn't seriously have a story about appliances! And don't toy with me. If you're serious, then please tell me how to not get you started because I need to know post haste how to not get you started!" As it turned out, she was just bluffing and she actually wanted to get started and did get started. Eventually, after a half an hour discourse on self-cleaning ovens I was left alone with her again as my friends from the United Nations abandoned me. Not surprising I suppose given that organization’s track record.

Fortunately, I eventually was able to finagle my way out of what seemed to be the conversational equivalent of the Bermuda triangle. The only problem is that if this is any indication of things to come it looks like it's going to be a long softball season...but don't even get me started.