The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about, Oscar Wilde once paraphrased. Right now, I’m both. My coworkers are talking about me, my friends seem to be off the radar. How do I know my coworkers are talking about me? They do it to my face. How do I know my friends are distant and uncommunicative? I haven’t heard from some for a long, unusually long while. Maybe those of you who read my blog could drop me a line once in a while. Maybe that would be nice and needed. Maybe. 

So I’m not a virgin anymore….went to Rocky Horror Picture Show last night with the Roommate and his lady friend. We all three wore corsets and skirts, eye shadow and outrageous lipstick. I’m only a little bit mortified that my corset fit my 6-foot-something, male, albeit thin, roommate. We went to the historic Tower theater, waited in line getting chillier by the minute, and giggled along as Riff-Raff and Magenta gave the line instructions on what to do, and what not to do. Then we entered the theater, got patted down and our bags checked for contraband, and found our seats. Lady Friend bought us each a “Tranny Pack” for $3 containing a bag of rice, squirt gun, newspaper, playing cards, and toast. When the show started, they called for virgins to come up front, and chose 6 of us to be initiated. I was not chosen, thank god, and so I sat back down. They played a raunchy game with the virgins and chose two to be crowned King and Queen Cock. An honor! Then, after another short warning speech on what NOT to do (Namely, throw anything at the performers or screen) we began the show. 

Such water gunning! Such rice throwing! I realized early on that the movie was not nearly as good as I had believed it to be in my youth, and only the narrator (not in the film, but with a mic, in the theater) got me through the terrible show. She was named Susan, and she should be a national treasure. She knew the movie by heart, and prompted every single call-back and heckle. It was truly a fantastic performance. I was very impressed. In short, we had a great time, and I was happy to lose my virginity to someone as skilled as Susan. Every girl should be so lucky. 

Oh, and getting uncooked rice out of your hair is not as easy as it would seem. 

Going back to the talking/not talking subject; I have always been someone who cares too much what other people think about me. The Husband is the exact opposite, he doesn’t give a damn what people think. I envy that confidence, and of course I worry endlessly that I’ll never have it myself. Worrying is a confidence killer, so I worry over how much I worry, too. (And so on and so forth etcetera ad infinitum). I loathe people talking about me in a negative way, I glow fleetingly when they’re positive. Never am I totally unaffected. But the negative things I hear are always so much more influential on my mood, outlook, self-image. They impress upon me and make me feel absolutely wretched. I suppose you could say I’m a sensitive soul, and a bit of a pessimist. At least when I’m stressed out. Which is most of the time….

On one of my dates last week, we talked about “fake it till you make it” as a philosophy and personal endeavor. I feel like I’m faking being an adult half the time, if not more, so this is a saying I take to heart. I fake it constantly, when I’m in public, or at the workplace, or meeting new friends. I fake that I have my shit together, that I know what I’m doing, and that I’m perfectly happy doing all this while being potentially judged by the world. I fake that it’s easy to do simple tasks and suddenly it IS easy, because I’ve programmed my muscles as well as my brain to do these things and make them look like I’m not stressing out about them to a horrific degree. I fake the easiest fucking things in the world. Smiling. Nodding. Making rudimentary conversation. What I really should do is take it a step further and try and trick myself into thinking I can handle this stuff.

Listen, loyal reader, I didn’t mean to say you weren’t paying enough attention to me. It’s just…it’s just always nice to hear from you, ok? Have a good Sunday.