The combat zone of socialising

After last week’s announcement that pubs and restaurants have permission to reopen and social distancing is reduced to one metre, I ended up in a cold sweat. Reduce social distancing? Nein danke. I need an increase or at least unchanged terms and conditions. My new found idea of social distancing in the Metropolis is a hedge, a door or a wall. Yes, a wall is good for someone like me who has grown up behind one.

The thought of getting in contact with people might illuminate some people’s mood but not mine. Am I the only one who thinks hell is other people? Are there others out there with an innate desire for solitude? Where are you guys? Ha, what a stupid question?! You are hiding like me. This is why we have never met. Let’s keep it like that.

How people enjoy socialising remains an enigma to me. I don’t mind a glimpse through the window, followed by a nod but people in my face without some sort of buffer zone? No, no, no. I did not need to shift gear to social distancing, I was already holding a master’s degree.

My inner hermit wants to stay in my enchanted exile. I go dizzy thinking about invitations to various social events. I am also anxious about all the things that come along with people. Self-correcting behaviours, sanitised speech, wearisome small talk, deciphering facial expressions, avoiding offence. All in the midst of noise. I can no longer adapt to the onslaught of so called fun.

In the combat zone of socialising I want to be the geek in my parents’ basement. Hm, let me overthink this…






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