I hate going out anywhere, I hate being around people, but somehow I’ve sort of created a Meetup group.
The Meetup.com prices are really expensive but once I focused (and stopped grumbling to myself) I could see they have a free plan, which is limited (only two meets a month allowed, yippee) but this gets your group listed and seen by people. It felt like I was doing something bold and social, while still being safely alone in my living room.
It’s the things I do “for the future” that keep me oddly optimistic – despite knowing full well the future is rescue cats, books and solo Netflix scrolling until my skeleton is eventually discovered.
The furthest I’ve been in two days is the end of the driveway to put the bins out and that brief exposure to daylight and weather was probably enough socialisation for the week. I kind of love staying in doing my at home things, but as anyone with AvPD knows, it gets gut wrenchingly lonely.
If the Meetup group actually works (and let’s be honest, it probably won’t), maybe I’ll get to know some nice people. We’ll chat online first (my natural habitat) where I’m charming and articulate, and then ruin it all in person.
Hope.
I think about organising a day out at a theme park or somewhere where I don’t have to sit around drinking coffee and be expected to talk. WTF! That’s dull right there, not to mention bloody impossible.
Still, even when I picture the actual meetup day – the logistics, the travelling, the forced smiling – I can already feel myself wanting to stay home. I can see it now: everyone wandering around rollercoasters, fake laughing, fake bonding, and there I am, fake laughing the loudest, determined to prove I’m having the best fake time of all.
Will anyone join? Who knows. Will I cancel the first event the night before out of sheer terror? Will I even create an event? No idea. But until then, I’m basking in the smug glow of productivity.