Newsletter SampleSNL's hilariously accurate prediction of the upcoming awkwardness awaiting us all at this summer's parties was the inspiration for last night's Connection Club conversations.
During last night's conversation, I realized that my fantasy social life over the next month would be some combination of Silent Book Club (or any other introvert-friendly form of doing-things-near-each-other-quietly) that then gently scaffolds upward into conversations in which all pandemic-themed small talk has been compassionately banned, and instead we delve straight into All The Things We've Been Dying To Talk About.
I've also talked to a decent number of folks who are secretly craving to hold onto the high-quality solitude and the peace-n-quiet that lockdown life provided for them. If that's you too, I just wanna say:
It's ok if you don't feel ready.
It's ok if you've already started actively socializing face-to-face and have suddenly realized that your social stamina ain't what it used to be.
It's ok to admit if you feel overwhelmed by the social obligations that haven't even surfaced yet (but you know they will).
It's ok to design a social life that feels more filling than draining.
Just because you CAN do all the things doesn't mean you have to rush to do them all right away. Here's a template you can use for taking it slow.
Microdosing and neologisms
I also thought a few of these neologisms by John Koenig would make fine titles for the post-pandemic transitions we're all in:
THE JOY OF MIDDING
v. intr. feeling the tranquil pleasure of being near a gathering but not quite in it—hovering on the perimeter of a campfire, chatting outside a party while others dance inside, resting your head in the backseat of a car listening to your friends chatting up front—feeling blissfully invisible yet still fully included, safe in the knowledge that everyone is together and everyone is okay, with all the thrill of being there without the burden of having to be.
PETITION FOR EXTENDED KENOPSIA
n. the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that’s usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet—a school hallway in the evening, an unlit office on a weekend, vacant fairgrounds—an emotional afterimage that makes it seem not just empty but hyper-empty, with a total population in the negative, who are so conspicuously absent they glow like neon signs.
FEAR OF IMPENDING MAL DE COUCOU
n. a phenomenon in which you have an active social life but very few close friends—people who you can trust, who you can be yourself with, who can help flush out the weird psychological toxins that tend to accumulate over time—which is a form of acute social malnutrition in which even if you devour an entire buffet of chitchat, you’ll still feel pangs of hunger.
CRAVING A CONTACT HIGH-FIVE
n. an innocuous touch by someone just doing their job—a barber, yoga instructor or friendly waitress—that you enjoy more than you’d like to admit, a feeling of connection so stupefyingly simple that it cheapens the power of the written word, so that by the year 2025, aspiring novelists would be better off just giving people a hug.
Which of these captures your current feels? Hit reply and let me know. This weekend I definitely got a Contact High-five when I picked up some to-go Indian food and my hand briefly grazed the hand of the older gentleman who gave it to me with smiling eyes. Aaaaaaand I could also be delighted with a few solid weeks of midding as I ramp-up to more face-to-face time. What about you?
XOXO,
Kat
