All of my previous posts have analyzed uncomfortable situations so obsessively that any reader could conclude that my preoccupation with awkwardness is a bit peculiar. However, while writing each of these posts, I am fully confident that my readers (aka my sorority sisters, parents, and grandmother) could relate to the situations I’ve outlined. This week, however, I am only about 75% sure that my bizarre reaction to this particular conundrum is widely shared. Therefore, please refrain from judging too harshly or exiling me from my social circles (fine…circle) upon publishing this post.
That said, let us explore the awkward social situation of seeing someone with whom you don’t particularly want to converse. It can happen at a bar, a pregame, the dining hall—really any social gathering you could think of. The natural course of action would be to avoid eye contact with this person. Whenever I find myself in this awkward predicament, I find myself attempting to actively ignoring him or her (almost always him). The problem is that I become hyper-aware of this person’s proximity to me. I constantly scan the room, trying to track his movements while simultaneously being very mindful to NEVER look this person in the eye. Once I finish the scan, I start using hyperbolic gestures and facial expressions to grab his attention, while simultaneously ignoring him. I don’t want to look at him, but I apparently feel the need to fling my arms around to explicitly convey some dumb story to my friends or to laugh absurdly loud (throwing my head back extra far), just in case he is looking at me. For my own sake, I should seriously hope he isn’t looking at me, because I probably look like some kind of a frenzied orangutan (I have weirdly long arms) in my attempt to appear effortlessly charming and invested in hilarious banter with my peers.
To provide context, let’s say I’m sitting at John Jay for dinner with a few friends, and an ex-hookup, ex-boyfriend, or ex-best friend (any form of an “ex” applies perfectly to this situation) sits down at a nearby table with his friends. My peripheral vision allows me to tell that he’s spotted me! At least I hope it was peripheral vision and I didn’t accidentally make direct eye contact and blow my cover. I force myself not to glance in that direction and to continue conversing with my friends. Of course, a mature person would avoid this awkward situation altogether by simply waving a quick “Hello” and then moving on. Then again, a mature person would not have many followers if she attempted to write a weekly blog about every person she waved at. Thus, I continue with my method of avoidance. While attempting to remain focused on my bland discussion about the amount of schoolwork for the upcoming week, all I can think about is whether or not he is looking at me and how desperately I want to look over there to check. I find myself worrying that my neutral facial expressions look boring and unattractive (“She’s not giving you the stink eye, that’s just the way her face is”…) So, for some reason in my moment of panic and heightened self-awareness, I begin to giggle in a cute, super charming Blair Waldorf-like manner. Of course, I am not anything like Blair Waldorf, and despite my delusions I will never ever be able to pull off the cute and charming feminine giggle. So, now my friends are giving me weird looks, because generally flipping your hair as if you’re flirting with your entire table of friends merits some strange looks.
After this continues for way too long (any amount of time is too much time for this horrifyingly awkward behavior to persist), the guy finally gets up and leaves the dining hall. I am free to continue conversing with my friends in a more relaxed state and at a much lower decibel. As I put my (second) dinner plate away and head to the back room for a heap of cookies (to share with my friends obviously…), I exhale for the first time since the encounter and think to myself: That was awkward.