My hubby has a group of people that he befriended and remains friends with that I barely know. Most of our friends are ours. We had the lovely pleasure of having our entire wedding party be people that we are both close to. So being around this group of people sometimes makes me nervous.
It’s not as if they are intimidating (well, I take that back. They are a bunch of fight choreographers and stage fighters, so some of them could really kick some ass). All of them have always been very nice to me. But I often don’t know what to talk to them about. My closest experience with what they do is the former work I did in violence prevention. So all I can really do is get all philosophical about violence, i.e. the way in which a person reacts to fights is in direct relationship to their blah, blah, blah please tell me I’m an intellectual. In essence, I’m kind of a loser around them.
If you read yesterday’s blog then you know that my husband was DJing his bosses wedding last night (which, by the way, he makes stage safe weapons with this boss, so basically, I was out of place). As a result, he was up and down all night, leaving me to fend for myself. I have been to wedding’s he’s DJed before, so this is not new to me. But it forced me to converse and interact all by myself.
About 1/4 of the way through the reception, I decided to just be me, the goofy over-expressive, talks too much me. I said yes to dancing with men I had just met, I waved my hands in the air like I just don’t care, I laughed with the maid of honor, joked with the best man and held the bride’s niece so her mom could run to the bathroom. I had a blast.
This morning I asked my husband about it and he said that I was charming and bubbly. He said that he was even told by a friend of the groom that he, my husband, was a lucky man to have snagged me. Not gonna lie; enjoyed the ego boast. But I didn’t do it for that. I often mask myself in those types of situations. I want to come off as classy and nice, so I don’t let the real me out (which is closer to brash and sassy). If I’m going to live without fear, I also have to be comfortable with those aspects of myself. I need to let go of that good ol’ southern social training that taught me to always be a “lady”. Sometimes I’m just more of a twelve year old boy.