Success…of sorts

“Be Bold” is a rather general command. How does one act boldly? Am I supposed to go bungee jumping? Should I try to leap tall buildings in a single bound?
So I thought to myself, “What are some things in my life that fear is keeping me from doing?”

The very first thing I thought of, I kid you not, was a Brazilian Wax, only because I was reading The Pitch at the time (KC’s alternative-kitschy-hipster weekly mag) and saw an ad for a $25 special. A stranger with hot wax near my ladybits? I’m not feeling quite that bold yet. Maybe I’ll put that one on the back-burner. (haha, burner? get it? ha! because…you know, with the wax. Okay, I feel that I’ve shared a bit too much). So today, in lieu of testing my pain and modesty tolerances, I decided to stretch my social muscles instead.

A bit of background: When I was in high school, I was diagnosed with depression and social anxiety disorder. I was on and off medication until my freshman year of college when I decided to try to find other ways to cope with my anxiety instead of drugging myself. My condition is considerably better, and my panic attacks are few and far between (once every few months instead of every other day), but I still avoid uncomfortable social situations if I can.

This week, I’ve decided to dive head first into said situations, and I’ve had decent results.
Monday: I’m not the biggest opera fan, but I found out that a small local opera troupe was doing a free performance that night near Westport, so off I went, by myself, determined to…I don’t know. Do something. After the show, my first instinct was to bolt, but there was a reception afterwards with cookies(!) and biscotti(!). “Alright,” I thought. “I will mangle through some small-talk and reward myself with biscotti(!). Sometimes, you have to suffer for love.”
I introduced myself to all of the cast members (except the cute one; more on this later), congratulated them, and asked them to contact me if ever they needed more performers. Am I an opera singer? Not really, but that’s beside the point. I was ready to audition for them right then and there, if they’d asked me.

As I made my rounds chit-chatting with the other opera patrons, I discovered that I really only like talking to two types of people:
a) weird-but-not-too-creepy-old guys
b) gay men

There were women there, of course, and young, attractive men, even, but those demographics just seemed to be lacking something, while with the aforementioned groups, our conversation was like butter.

Anyway, after I left the show, victory biscotti in hand, I explored the Plaza and met an older Indian couple visiting from Canada, a dog named Marvin, and an old man from Greece named Christos, who was rambling on about “Pontius Pilato”. Interesting fellow.

Oh, and I tried a passionfruit tea latte. Gross.

Tuesday: I will not bore you with all the details of Tuesday, as I spent 12 hours out of the day at work, waitressing/food running. I will say this, though: I was supposed to work in the bar that morning, but I decided to be bold and try something new and do food running instead. I’m glad I did because when I did go to the bar to drop off some food, this strange man gave me a really lecherous look and said, “There she is! Well aren’t you just a sexy little thing!”

What? I work at a Tex-Mex restaurant, not Hooters. And it was only 11 in the morning, he couldn’t have been that drunk! Fortunately, I had the option of avoiding the bar until he left, so I did. Instead, I hung out at the kitchen, met some of the cooks, learned some more Spanish, and all that jazz.

What else…oh, yes, I also made friends with Ed, the meat manager at the grocery store down the street from the restaurant and I took a nap there between my shifts. If you’ve never napped in a grocery store, I highly recommend it.

It’s still early, I’m still tired, and I probably shouldn’t be writing such drivel, but I am, and that’s that.


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