It’s usually public speaking that freaks people out.
Having to give a presentation, get up in front of a large group of people.
But that sounds easy to me. That’s always been easy for me.
There’s a purpose to it, there’s a point. There’s a beginning and an end.
That, I can do.
And over the years, I’ve gotten good at the one-on-one with a purpose. In a parent-teacher conference, networking for work. Having a goal in mind, I’m okay.
But small talk?
That’s my own personal nightmare.
Should I say anything? Will the other person think I’m a bitch if I don’t? Do I seem awkward? I know I’m awkward, so I probably seem that way.
Do they even want to be talking to me?
Would they rather be talking to someone else?
Would they rather I just be quiet? Maybe they really like the quiet, too. Maybe we’d both be much happier to sit in silence.
I fail at small talk.
Once I know someone and they know me, we can by-pass that and really talk. Or maybe it’s still considered small talk, but the comfort of knowing each other changes it.
Yet how do you get to the friendship part when small talk is just so hard?
My husband can talk to anyone, anywhere. And people like him. It’s easy for him. It’s just his personality. My youngest is like this, too.
But me? No way.
I know it’s part of being an introvert.
I don’t wish away this part of me: it’s too big of a part of who I am for me to want to change it.
Yet when I see the ease with which others can do it and how they are much more easily accepted than I ever have been, I wish I wasn’t quite so terrible at small talk.