Adventures Of A Social Misfit.

Back in the heady days of crèche (pre-school), the teachers would often make a point to highlight the major flaws in my life.

"Oakes!" the teacher would shriek, whilst putting her cigarette out on my arm, "there are three things you need to work on in life, namely; your excessive dandruff problem, your weird tendency to try and smell random strangers' feet, as well as your sheer ineptitude in social situations. Sort that shit out, and fetch me another beer."

Since then, my dry scalp dilemma has become a thing of the past, thanks to Head & Shoulders and the wearing of white-collared shirts, whilst the smelling of feet is... well... ja, kept in check.

When it comes to certain social situations however, I still occasionally find myself flailing, like a person who cannot swim being tossed into the ocean by members of the Italian Mafioso. I'm not an arsehole or anything like that. It's just a bit of a tradition of mine to say and do things which puts me in an awkward situation, like something straight out of a comedy starring Ricky Gervais, except it isn't a comedy and no one is really laughing. Even basic stuff like greeting someone you know at the gym baffles me sometimes - I never greet anyone first, as I'm superstitious and believe I'll turn into a pillar of salt if I do this.

Normally I just pretend that I haven't seen the person. If I REALLY want them to greet me, I will hover around their line of sight until they come over.

"Yo Shaun," they will holla at me, the way gangsters holla at their homeboys.
"Hiii!" I will say, pretending to be slightly startled, "how long have you been here?"
"I've been here for a while hey, my friend said she saw you looking this way, and from then on you kept hanging around our line of sight."
"No I didn't. You friend is a f**king liar. And a whore," I will retort. Then I will feel bad and try to remedy the situation.

"Okay, to be fair - she isn't a whore, I can't really back that claim up. But she certainly is a liar."

The damage will already have been done however, and before I know it, I'll have a dumbbell wedged against my neck, an athletic shoe up my ass, and my gym membership revoked.

If it's not that, then it's making small talk with people I haven't seen in years. I HATE small talk, I hate it the way Andrew Symonds hates streakers, except I can't shoulder block small talk because it's so damn intangible. Like joy or the feeling of happiness.

Basically I never know what to say, Whenever I tell them the truth - that I'm a ludicrously successful bastard who literally pisses excellence, which I then bottle and sell at the Neighbourhood Market in Woodstock - it makes me sound boastful and they begin to resent me. This then leads to them spitting in the coffee or refreshing beverage I am usually holding in my hand, which annoys me as my drink then tastes phlegmy, which gives me horrible headaches as well as delusions of grandeur. Thus, I normally make a point of being pretty vague and mysterious with what I've been up to.

"Ja, I've been doing this and that," I will say nonchalantly, whilst polishing my monocle with the sleeve of my white-collared shirt. So I then end up sounding like an evasive and unambitious bum, although this approach does leave me to enjoy my drink.

My preferred method of small talk is the one where we're both moving passed one another at swift speed - usually at a mall or similar shopping complex. This then give me the opportunity to use the classic "Hey-how-you-doing-well-and-you-good-good" greeting, which leaves you with nothing more to say to the person really. If they DO decide to stop, I usually retort with a stiff karate kick to the solar plexus, which will ensure that they NEVER stop to talk to me again.

Then there are the occasions when I DO actually want to speak to someone I know or haven't seen in years. Of course, my mind will then blank out and I will obviously forget their names. When I'm with The Girlfriend, I usually stroke my groin region twice, which she now knows is the sign that she has to introduce herself, allowing me to then catch the name of the person I am chatting to. Occasionally she will try and humiliate me though, actually asking ME to do the introduction. I normally respond by collapsing on the floor and contorting my body into oddly fascinating shapes, hoping this will distract the friend or family member into not realising that I don't know their name.

Sometimes I just end up doing strange shit, like last week when we had pizza at Primi (Piatti). There was a newspaper on the table where we were to be seated, and as I picked it up, the waitress came over, greeted us, and then put out her hand. "Well, this is rather formal," I mused, and proceeded to put the paper down and shake her hand, like an old gentleman shaking the hand of his good friend Mr Lamberts, who he visits every day to watch the horse races. As we shook hands, I embarrassingly realised what she actually wanted, but the waitress - to her credit - went with it, and so we carried on shaking one another's hands in awkward silence for about 5-6 seconds, with The Girlfriend standing to the left of the waitress silently mouthing "You f**king weirdo" to me. Several times.

She shouldn't complain though, as the first time we made out was also due to a social folly of mine. We had been chatting for about 15 minutes at a night club, and I had just spiked her drink, when she pulled me toward her. Instinctively, I dove in and gave her a sensual kiss, which travelled through her loins like a flaming hawk. Turns out she was actually pulling me out of the way, as the drunken patron behind me was busy hurling out his internal organs, and she would have felt bad if I ended up smelling like raw kidney.

And the rest, as they say, is how the wind blows ever after.

So is this weird, or does anyone else have any stories to share?



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