Sunday, November 17, 2013

I'm not crazy, my mother had me tested: Part 5

While I’m on the topic of JAG and that librarian who patiently listened to me, I have one more thing to add: I monologue. It is so embarrassing, but it’s a part of me that I’ve come to accept. Sometimes, especially when I meet someone new or have a new thought or idea that needs to explode out of me, I’ll “download” on a person and talk far longer than they want, except I can’t tell when to stop because I apparently don’t see the social cues people give when they want a person to stop talking and walk away. I don’t see it. I’ll figure it out after the fact, but I won’t see it as it happens. It isn’t like rambling when a person is nervous, no, not quite. Monologuing is me talking at someone, not with someone. Since The Man and I carpool to work every morning, he has to pick me up at the end of the day. He’ll ask me, “How was your day?” Sometimes I won’t stop talking until we get home a half-hour later. Then I’ll realize we are home and that I haven’t so much as stopped for a breath or asked him how his day was.

One of my most memorable monologuing experiences still haunts me. I had only been dating The Man a few days when he invited me up to meet his parents. He’d never brought a girl home before, so this was quite an event. I was dressed as nicely as I could be on short notice, and I was more than a little nervous. Through the whole drive up, I was thinking hard about how to give a great first impression, how to be polite, what to say, and how to act. His parents kindly took us to dinner at a restaurant not far from their home, and from the moment we walked in until the moment we left, I dominated the conversation with an epic monologue all about myself. All of those ideas I’d thought about in the car, the ones about being polite and giving a good impression? I must have left them right there on the passenger seat. It’s one thing, I suppose, to monologue about an interest, but to jabber endlessly about myself is beyond inappropriate. I remember leaving the restaurant and chastising myself the entire drive home for my lack of consideration, for my too-long answers to their questions. I felt horrible. I still feel rather bad about it. I’ve since talked with them about this, and they remembered it. They have forgiven me, but I can’t forget it. So utterly embarrassing!

Many times on The Big Bang Theory, one character will ask Sheldon a question and the others will all groan as if to say, “why did you open the box!?” Sheldon apparently monologues often. His description of “rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Spock,” is epic. The dialogue that the actor must regurgitate is utterly astounding, both for its technicality and its length.

This blog, in fact, is one giant monologue for me. The real blessing here is that I get to spurt out my entire thought without being interrupted. It’s my party, and I’ll drone on if I want to. But if this happens in real life, please know that I mean to ask about you. I’m sorry if I just keep jabbering about me. I am trying to learn to not do this as often.

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