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Small Talk

6 Jan

One of the worst things in the world is small talk. I am the female version of Larry David when it comes to small talk. Sober I suck at small talk. Drunk I suck at small talk, I just don’t know how awkward it really is because, you know, I’m drunk. I just hate small talk all day, every day, forever. The worst small talk is train small talk. I see someone from high school, and they are like, “Oh, what are you doing on the train?” and I’m all, “I work…just, um, you know, don’t like traffic and shit”. Then they ask if you still date so and so (your boyfriend from freshman year in high school), then I say, “No, we broke up in 2003. Do you still date that guy that punched you in the face senior year?”, only I say the second part in my mind. Seriously though, don’t make me take my earphones off to talk to you. I’m tired and you suck. Facebook tells us all the answers to these small talky questions that we ask each other during small talk. Let’s stop pretending we’re not stalkers and just say, “Hey, I saw on my newsfeed that you’re sleeping with an old guy who is married with 3 kids from different women! That’s great! Good to hear you’re a gold-digging home-wrecker nowadays!”.

I feel like small talk also makes me a liar. People ask me questions that I have such simple answers for, and I hate the awkward silence and phoniness after giving them, so I try to give more complicated answers. Like for example, someone will ask, “Are you and your boyfriend going to get married soon?”, which is kind of a rude question in itself. I don’t know you other than I heard you shit yourself at a party in high school, don’t ask me if I’m ready to give up my individuality! Yeah, I am ready to do so, but fuck you. No tact. That’s the answer I want to give. But instead of stooping to their level of rudeness I just lie and say, “No, he’s actually moving to Japan because he’s heavily into anime and there is a year long convention going on there. It will probably be difficult to be in a long distance relationship, but I’m a hopeless romantic who doesn’t mind waiting for my boyfriend to carry out his life long anime dream of living in Japan for a year dressed up as Pikachu. I just hope he comes back and doesn’t leave me for a Japanese fan girl.”. Okay, so I just lied about that lie. And I almost hate myself for it. In reality I just say, “Yeah, we are going to get married when we aren’t poor anymore. And if we remain poor, we’ll just get a shitty apartment in the Quincy Point area and live unmarried and in sin.”, but I needed to get my point across. Don’t judge me while you’re reading my personal website, asshole.

I can’t be completely negative about small talk. Sometimes it’s entertaining. Sometimes you run into people you want to make small with. For example, people who have personalities, people who make you laugh, people who aren’t two thirds to a retard. So if you do see me during my commute, please don’t be like, “Oh I know how you feel about small talk, I’ll leave you alone! L-O-L!”, that’s even worse. Let’s just get the small talk over with or get it started if it’s that weird moment that I want to make small talk. It’s rare, but if you get me to take my earphones for you, it’s code for, ” talk small talk to me”.

And sometimes…there is drunken small talk. I don’t even know if I can call it small talk though, because drunken small talk starts off with, “Oh hey, how are you?”, and dives right into deep talk. I ran into one of my first middle-school- relationship-go-to-the-movies-once-boyfriends from 8th grade after the bar one night a couple years ago. We hadn’t seen each other in years, and he is probably one of the nicest guys ever. If there is an off chance he is reading this, I apologize for the drunken small talk that I probably initiated. Anyways, he is Jewish, and coincidentally I had just finished taking a Holocaust Lit class to fulfill a graduation requirement. I went straight from small talk to, “I just took a class about…what happened. I feel so AWFUL….”, and I went on and on about how bad I felt about the Holocaust in the Quincy Center fucking parking lot to my ex boyfriend who’s Bar Mitzfah I had attended at age 13. I don’t even remember what he was saying in response, maybe I’d had too much to drink, or maybe forgetting is my brain’s defense mechanism against realizing I’m a total douche. Either way…

If I didn’t love myself so much, I would hate myself. But I have nothing to say to any of you that I don’t say on this lame website, so small talk can SUCK IT!

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