You know those people, I’m sure you know those people, maybe you have five or six in your address book, people who can land anywhere, they could land in a bar on Mars and walk out knowing everyone’s life story. Friends who have this uncanny knack of fitting in. I’m in Jackson, Mississippi right now, to attend a wedding for one of those people, one of my best friends in the world, Lesley. We’ve drifted apart a little the past couple of years–thanks to a couple of houses, hers and ours, and my endlessly, needlessly busy work/theatre schedule–but I still think we’re pretty good buddies.
Anywhere, I’ve always admired Lesley for her ability to blend in, to make friends effortlessly. She’s got no pretenses, no time for bullshit, she’s down to earth, cuts to the chase. In short, she rocks.
Me, I’m not like her. Not even close. I’m generally hard to get to know. On occasion, certain people push buttons in me, and with them, I open up immediately, but most of the time, I’m not really good with the chit chat. I have no patience with it. I’m not good at making people feel comfortable. In fact, me, Little Miss Schadenfreude, I enjoy making people feel distinctly uncomfortable. watching them squirm. So there. I shouldn’t be let out of the house.
I’m a creep and Lesley’s not. That’s all I’m trying to say.
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