Mandatory fun
Oh, it was alright, I guess. I had enough to eat, the kids were not atrocious little monsters, and I didn’t lose any cookware or accessories.
Said hi to my Battle Buddy and marveled that it was five years ago that we were slogging through mud together in training, laughing at our awful PT-uniform tans, and getting caught by the drill sergeant folding our laundry in my bunk after lights out (it was also a minor gigglefest, and the D.S. even thought we were a bit amusing). Five whole years. Now I am a hermit, some unknown crazy woman who is married to some soldier and who never leaves the house- and my battle is a first lieutenant in the company my husband is in. She’s pretty kickass. I’m proud of her!
As for myself, it became horrifyingly apparent that I really have got to make an effort at our next post to be more involved in stuff. Of course here, I spent months not getting any information at all from the family group, and my husband spent a year tasked outside the company, so it wasn’t simple to make contacts with the other spouses.
It’s not that I’m really that mean. I do have an awful temper but I am highly skilled at behaving myself around acquaintances. I only feel comfortable raging and burning in front of close friends and family, like any civilized fire-monster. I just don’t like making friends anymore. It’s complicated, awkward, and alien to me. Folks try to be really nice when you move to a new post, with all their “Hey just call if you need anything,” line. I feel like I should just tell them straight out:
“I’m not going to call you. It’s not because you’re not a very nice, pleasant person. It’s because I don’t like asking people for anything, I don’t like calling people in general (ask my mother how often I call her!) and I feel that after 30+ years of life, I should be able to handle my own difficulties. Of course I can’t always, and there are days when I probably really DO need help from some nice person that I really don’t know, but the fact is- I am not going to call you. It’s not you, though. It’s me.”
But that sounds like some kind of breakup. Maybe I should get business cards that just say:
S.A.
Painfully shy.
Will not call you.
poor Ducky…i feel the same way..i always feel so awkward and uncoordinated around the other soccer moms. i never know what to say and i spend most of our short conversations nodding along and coming up with deep thoughts like “yeah” “oh, i totally agrre”.
Comment by Dread Pirate Piper — 18 May 2008 @ 1345
Yeah, I have decided that I am going to claim that you are one of my stored household goods so the Army will bring you to live with me when we move. Friend, best-type, 1 each.
Oh yeah, now if they damage you at all they have to pay to replace you, not just fix the damage.
Comment by Dorkelina — 19 May 2008 @ 647
I always get so excited when I meet someone new that I jump all over the place, drool, and eventually wet myself. No one ever calls me, even if I offer to pay them to do it.
Making friends is hard. (Unless, of course, you resort (like I often do) to making little people and monsters out of clay.)
And how much would it cost to replace a pirate? Isn’t she sort of irreplaceable? What does the Army do THEN?
Comment by wynne — 20 May 2008 @ 500
I guess I will have to call on you, dear Wynne, to make me a new clay pirate… Though I don’t know if it’ll be the same.
Oh, I can’t even THINK about it! Waaaaaaaaah!! T_T
Comment by Dorkelina — 20 May 2008 @ 706