No Place to Socialize

Dearest Rachel –

I was heading out of the gym the other day after putting in an unusually long session (a full hour and a half, plus a couple of five-minute cooldown walks in between) and encountered an older woman talking with her peer at the reception desk. Her shirt read “I may be twice your age, but I’m still here,” which I guess was meant to be a dig at the young bucks she expected to encounter at the gym (although as far as I can tell, if she was twice the age of the average dude I see here, she might want to consider contacting the Guinness folks).

From what little I could glean as I was dropping off my used towels (hey, I’m a responsible member; I make sure to wipe down the treadmill after using it, seeing as I’ve spent so much time dripping all that sweat over it), they were discussing her plans for the weekend. Apparently, she was meeting this man that she’d met some time in the recent past; he’d been out of town on vacation, but now that he was returning, they were going to meet up and have a good time together, whatever that might mean.

All well and good; it’s a free country, and one is permitted to do what one wants to. Consenting adults and all that; and for someone her apparent age, I’ll not argue that she was hard on the eyes or anything. The lady works out – she’s at the gym, and evidently often enough to be on sociable terms with the lady at the reception desk (although I suppose it’s the latter’s job to be friendly with the clientele) – and it shows. And as a result, she seems to have a social life (albeit – presumably – not a husband, but given my own situation, I think it’s safe to assume she could be a widow herself). Good for her, I want to be able to say.

And yet, for some reason, I can’t quite bring myself to full-throatedly applaud her. Maybe it’s the legend on her T-shirt that rubs me the wrong way; stating “I’m still here,” while presumably meant as a statement of empowering determination, sounds like a taunt to those who are, let’s just say, not here anymore, like yourself. Then there are the plans themselves; and again, I shouldn’t be imposing my morals on someone who doesn’t share them. Even your mom, when she was between husbands, had a bit of, ahem, history, while she was trying to find her second Mister Right – not that that was justified either (although she did wind up with the guy who moved more slowly, by her own recounting); so it’s not as if this kind of behavior should be surprising, let alone mine to comment upon.

In fact, I may just be rankled by the fact that she’s having success when I’m not – which is embarrassing to have to admit. For all that I may denigrate certain folks with a “crabs in a bucket” mentality (where a group of trapped crabs will pull down any of their fellows that tries to escape; “if I can’t succeed, I’m gonna make sure you won’t, either”), it pains me to acknowledge that I might very well be the crab in this scenario. Can’t I just think to myself, “hey, she’s getting out there and has some really nice plans for herself and this gentleman; I hope it works out for both of them”? Or at least, just ignore the whole situation, and stay out of the matter, without dwelling on it one way or another?

Then again, it may be the fact that I can’t wrap my head around having a conversation at the gym in the first place. The whole point of being there is to work out and either develop muscles or burn calories (preferably both at the same time, but some exercises are better for one or the other, and you need to prioritize). In my mind, if you have enough breath in your lungs to communicate, you’re not not working hard enough. And even if you’re done and more or less on your way out the door, you should be too tired to have a conversation anyway. It’s no place to socialize.

I’ve had this compartmentalized attitude toward literally any public place where I might meet people. You didn’t socialize outside of work with your co-workers; if you got too used to that, you might slack off at the office, since you’re just hanging out with friends. Of course, before you got to that point, their very presence would just remind you of work – because they’re your co-workers, first and foremost – and who needs that when you’re trying to enjoy an evening or a weekend?

Likewise, I’ve been told that certain errands are great ways to meet people, like going shopping. Supposedly, you come across as this responsible breadwinner to these would-be homemakers at the grocery store. I don’t see how that’s supposed to work; for my part, I’m just there to pick up this or that thing (and maybe a bunch of others as the spirit leads – which rather cancels out the ‘responsible’ aspect of the trip) and get out of there. Besides, who wants to be approached by someone while you’re in the produce section, debating which hand of bananas looks better to take home for the next couple of breakfasts? That’s no place to socialize, either.

And then, of course, there’s church; the perfect place to meet someone who shares faith and values, in theory. But just as Jesus drove out those conducting business in such a place, I tend to think of social business as not being appropriate there, either. Not that He’d take a whip to me for trying to conduct any, but it just doesn’t feel right to have such ulterior motives behind conversations. So, it’s best not to start any, or participate in any.

I’m sure it’s all just me; this is as close as I come to being neurotic about it all, but it’s more than sufficient to stop me literally anywhere. I wish there was something I could do about it, but for now, I’m just watching others as they succeed, and wondering how they manage to get past such hangups. Maybe they never had any to begin with. But I do, and it’s paralyzing me.

Then again, there are other things that need doing, so I might as well get on with that, and leave the socializing to those who can do it. But if you can keep your eyes on me and wish me well, that will do for now. There’s no question that I still need it.