I recently learned something about myself. It would appear that without having a constant array of things to accomplish socially and academically I fall into a cycle that consists of completely unacceptable activities. And by unacceptable I do not mean creepy, weird and upsetting, I mean ridiculous and definitely more suitable for someone who is not supposed to be a fully formed adult.
I learned this moments ago when the boyfriend, who was being awesome and couple-y and living up to the standard his glorious beard sets for his personality, texted me to ask what I was doing. Which was great (in the worst way possible) because I couldn’t think up a good enough lie on the spot like that and was forced to tell him what I was actually doing.
He can see straight through my lies. Probably because he knows that if I tell him I am doing something normal, like watching TV or painting my nails, that I actually am lying through my teeth to conceal my true (and probably more interesting) activities. Apparently we’ve been dating long enough that he knows I don’t have the ability to sit and concentrate on anything less fascinating that ancient Greek sacrificial ritual. Which is nice, because it means he no longer gets surprised by my antics and he even participates/humors me in my social experiments on our friends.
So I told him the true truth; which happened to be that I was sitting cross-legged my parent’s living room floor wrapped in my comforter, eating leftover honey-baked ham and watching Survivorman. He very sweetly concealed his laughter and told me this was a perfectly normal activity and I shouldn't be ashamed at all.
Was I pretending to be in the woods of Ontario with him? Yes, I was. My ham was the bear I killed with my own teeth. My blanket, its pelt. (Bear liver is full of Vitamin A, and it will poison you, so you should never eat it).
The moment I had to admit what I was actually doing was the exact moment I realized that it was completely socially unacceptable. Not as bad as arson or chewing with your mouth open, it was bad in a not-that-bad-but-still-awkward kind of way. Like child leashes, which are extremely useful and probably a good idea, but are also embarrassing and not something you want anyone to know that you are involved in. At least, anyone who isn’t a parent that made the mistake of taking their child to Disneyland.
Fortunately, since I live in a house where everyone but me is asleep by 10, I can get up to all sorts of shenanigans that I previously never even considered. This is because I had my sorority sisters and/or friends and/or the boyfriend to find me something to do besides pretend I am on the discovery channel trekking alongside whatever host happens to be onscreen. Or talking to the PNM ghost. Or taking internet quizzes. Or make a zombie apocalypse survival plan for 7 billionth time. This is actually not fortunate. I can’t wait to start my job.
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