As if two wasn't enough. One and a half? I'm not gonna go even lower and say one and a quarter, my self-esteem isn't that bad. I don't think I'm fully living Ainsley's life either but that number's gone up over time. Wouldn't call that part a one, though. Maybe I've got more than two if you count my increasingly tenuous claim on whatever that maniac is getting up to in Charlottesville.
I've been going to a bar, lately. I realize what that sounds like after what I just said but I swear, it's not like that. I have to drive there and back anyway.
I felt like I had to get out somewhere, anywhere, just to prove to myself I'm capable of doing something of my own initiative. I wanted to pick somewhere Ainsley likely hadn't been before, and the kind of place Isaac wouldn't go to either (he's not drinking age yet). Also didn't want to run into Heather there, even though I ended up going with a spot she'd probably like.
It's called The Lounge. It's forty or fifty minutes away from the apartment, which, while annoying, serves the dual purpose of assuring me that nobody connected to any version of Ainsley or Sara will show up and guilt-tripping me into actually going inside. "You drove that long and you really think you're allowed to bail now? Come on." The place is more of a music venue with a bar attached, which is one reason I've never gone on a Friday or Saturday night, but the artists on weeknights are small-time enough that the back of the bar doesn't get too crowded those days.
It's also a convenient distraction, even though whether I actually like the band any given night is a crapshoot. The music gives me something to think about other than the situation I've put myself in to avoid thinking about things: being a woman alone at a bar. I don't think the combination of Ainsley's preppier looks and my general vibe are in line with what the vaguely punk-y regulars here are looking for, and I dress pretty conservatively when I go here. But, not doing anything besides sipping on my one see-I'm-not-a-freeloader cocktail and checking my phone makes me come across as easy pickings, I suppose. Nothing actually bad has come close to happening, it's just that whenever some guy grabs the seat next to mine I'm almost intrigued and even weirdly flattered, and then within two seconds I immediately regret not instantly telling him off. Even the ones who aren't weird about it. Being in these conversations is just too stressful, and things pretty quickly get awkward enough that either they leave or I do.
What I wasn't expecting was how often women approach me to ask if I'm doing okay. It happens whether I'm in the middle of being picked up or not; a couple times a woman came up to me as I was staring at the drink selection and told me I could meet her in the bathroom if there was anything I needed to talk about. Are my vibes that fucked!? Twice, some guy was trying to talk to me and then a woman walked up and started acting as if she knew me, which obviously makes me freak out even more since I have to figure out if this is some friend of Ainsley's I've never met before, and then she just thinks I'm too oblivious to get what I'm trying to do, and it's... It's a mess to get out of. Twice! These were completely different women! I've only been going here for a few weeks!
Going to The Lounge isn't all like that, of course. I usually don't regret going. The bartenders make small talk with me, and in that profession you have to get good enough to have an at least okay conversation with pretty much anyone. Sometimes I'll get roped into conversation by a livelier group that happens to be sitting nearby that night, or I'll overhear a topic I actually know how to talk about. Last time I went a group of girls Ainsley's age came up and asked for my thoughts, as an impartial observer, on a dispute over pet care duties one of them had with her roommate. Conversations like that are easy mode compared to keeping up with Ainsley's friends, but I left the bar that evening feeling like those girls didn't like my answer anyway.
I find myself asking "What would Ainsley do?" a lot when I'm here. But that shouldn't be relevant, right? I'm somewhere she's never been, she wouldn't even want to go to, and at which she has no relationships or reputation to worry about. The whole point of going here is to escape Ainsley, to do something on my own terms, to live life for now while I don't know which body I'll have in several months. But Ainsley is the obvious point of comparison for everything I do, as I'm reminded every time I look down at myself or catch a glimpse of my reflection. And I can't escape the thought that even in a totally new situation for her she'd just be better at this. If she ever went to bars by herself (which I doubt), she wouldn't draw concern and pity in every direction from total strangers, I bet. It's one thing to get those reactions from the people who know Ainsley best, but to see it from random observers just sets me off.in a way I don't know how to describe.
I think she'd be happier than me. I wish I knew why.
1 comment:
As someone who also has a lot of social anxiety, the annoying thing to have learned is social skills are a muscle you have to stretch and train. So as awkward as it is, this is probably a good thing to be doing to get practice at it, and hopefully once you're back to your own body the discomfort of having to do it as someone you're not will be off. Main thing to remember I think is that most people aren't your enemies and are usually more willing to forgive some awkwardness than you think...though I guess the "guys trying to pick you up" part will always require a little bit of being on guard.
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