I look at the crowded room warily.
I consider my options. There are only two: go mingle or be a failure.
I walk in.
I talk to this one guy who I know and act inappropriately shocked to find out he has children. Like, YOU? YOU have KIDS?
Then I get some food. Strawberries, pineapple chunks.
I consider re-approaching the guy with kids, who's kind of my friend, who is talking to a girl who is also kind of my friend (each has given me a side hug at one point or another), but then I notice another guy I know.
I turn, and he's happy to see me, and I'm happy to see him (in a "we're all mingling here" kind of way), and I happen to vaguely know the guy he's talking to, so we all talk for a bit.
successful interaction, right there.
Then it's time to mingle with someone else, so I go talk to this girl, and we run out of things to say, so I'm like, "it was SO nice to meet you."
Then I'm done. I walk out of the room and get set up for the panel. and the mingling was fine. ish.
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4 comments:
Maybe it's because I'm tired, but I don't understand this.
You are a much better mingler than me. I'd like you to write my socially awkward mingling short story next, just as comparision.
My word verification is himeth. It makes me think of him as a behemoth. Whoever he is.
I HATE MINGLING. This is something grown-ups consider essential, and I think is just one giant poop sandwich.
monsibl
and
canuc
Glad this is old enough that not as many will be reading these comments.
Oh and there is a picture of you, not as a 20 something black man, but as an ice cream eating beauty. My mistake earlier...
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