I'd say within an hour of updating my location to Atlanta, GA back in December I had about ten new friend requests on Facebook. God! Southern hospitality rocksssss. Ok, so most of them were Devantes, Tevarius' or Shayquan's and all of them were originally from Kenya, but friends are friends! Right? Haha.
Please know I am not racist at all. I just thought it was completely hilarious that all these black guys were hitting me up on Facebook as soon as they saw that I was in the ATL. --It was a sign of good things to come. When you move to California, people give you the stink eye and tell you you aren't a local until you've lived there at LEAST 15 years... and thats them being generous (California, you know I love you, but it's so damn true).
So I move to Atlanta. I don't know anyone, but family and my new homies. I get my breeze card to ride MARTA (as you all know if you read my blog) and low and behold on my first ride I make two new friends. Aaron the PT who asks me to be his sister after we bond listening to Lil' Scrappy and Femi the 40-year-old engineer who tried to walk me to work from the train station (apparently I don't age discriminate either- although I did turn down his offer- come on people! Safety first!)
MARTA seemed to be the place to make friends. I was very optimistic that I wouldn't have to volunteer for some tree planting extravaganza pretending to be a hippie to make new friends or shell out kaboodles of cash to go on a wilderness adventure with a bunch of strangers and sing kumbaya. But then this morning my world view shifted and I realized maybe I shouldn't make eye contact or smile at people on MARTA anymore, mostly because they could be INSANE. Yes, this morning I met an INSANE person waiting on MARTA. He was a homeless person, so I thought all the more reason to share some sunshine and smile. Right? WRONG.
I was mid smile when I realized that he was certifiably insane and would probably be a prime suspect to kill me in my sleep. ERRR. I stopped the smile dead in its half curved lip tracks- I'm sure I looked like I was having a stroke.
"Hey hunny. Where do you live? Are you going to work? Where do you work? Do you work at a bank? Or maybe a hotel?"
Now I pride myself on being a very amicable person, but if I think you could kill me at some point that kind of changes things.
"I don't feel comfortable talking to you." Is what I said. Although looking back, I'm sure it made no sense to him, as things that make sense to you and me do not make sense to people that are INSANE.
He moved closer to me and kept asking me questions. AHHHHHHH. FUCK. I turn away from him and dig into my purse. Where the FUCK is my phone. I see a beacon of light at the very bottom and I grasp for it. I swipe my finger once, twice. WORDS WITH FRIENDS. WORDS WITH FRIENDS. AHHHHH. I suck in my breath and let it out and let my shoulders sag. I start looking for triple letters that I can layer to get a mega score. I relax. WORDS you make me feel so safe. I start to smile again and then I suck it back in. NO MORE SMILES... at least not around homeless people. I'm sorry I can't do it any more.
I was so excited when I moved here, because everyone I met was so kind. I thought wow you really can make friends without spending money on weird community activities. I might have been wrong. Maybe this is God's karma for me since I don't like planting trees or sorting my recycling. GAHHHHH.
xoxo Jildo
P.S. Incidentally I am quite aware that you can meet normal people at places other than nature activities. But, unless you are in a boot camp, who's going to want to be my friend when I'm sweating buckets at the gym? And, lets be for real. With a 3 hour commute each day, the only place I meet people is on the train or at the gym, because I don't have the time or energy to do anything else.
No comments:
Post a Comment