Social Tip #243 - A Mid-Century Night's Nightmare

I got hit on at a bar by a much older man. He was good looking I guess for middle age but I don’t know if I’m ready to see fifty-year-old balls. I don’t think I’ve reached that level of depression. Although, ironically, just my being hit on by someone that old dragged my depression almost deep enough for me to consider it. I asked him what he did and he said, "I’m a painter." Oh, hot.

"You paint for a living?" I asked.

“Well, I paint.” he replied, and then he kept talking, "Professionally I sell mid-century furniture."

Wait.... did you say mid-century? Be still my beating clit. Why are you saying mid-century? I just know he used to tell women that he just sold furniture, but then one day he said "mid-century," and a woman crawled into his yellowed bed and he's been saying it ever since. What a cup full of yuck. Mid-century, that just means your sell your furniture, you old fuck.

On his way out he didn’t try to get my number, but he did come in real close, pat me on the back and say, ‘Good luck.” What is that supposed to mean? I’m not sure, but I think it means “I sell mid-century furniture... but I fuck contemporary pussy."

Social Tip #136 - Draw Conclusions

I tried to kill myself with a pen, but all that happened was I had to walk around with a bunch of lines on my wrist. It's not mightier.

Social Tip #66 - Clouds

I never understood the "depression is a cloud" metaphor until I left Arizona. Until then I had only been depressed in the extreme sunshine where I mastered holding a blank sullen stare while the sun dried my corneas into notebook paper.

Social Tip #17 - Depression

After staring into my sock drawer for a couple hours I agreed to go to brunch with my boyfriend, where I spent another hour staring at the inside of a tofu scramble wrap. Black beans, salsa, bright yellow tofu. Mistakes have been made.

My boyfriend is a nice person who does not need to put up with my fits of depression but does so anyway because he is an eternal optimist. He doesn't see his girlfriend as half-depressed, he sees her as half-full of opportunities to have crying sex.

Boyfriend: Are you okay? Are you mad at me?

I shook my head "no" without looking at him.

Boyfriend: No to both?

Me: I'm not mad at you. I'm just in a funk.

That's when this curly-haired woman sitting to my right stopped talking on her phone and looked over at us.

Woman: Could you be any more morose? It is a beautiful day, you're in a nice restaurant with this nice guy trying to cheer you up and you can't find anything to be happy about. Are you kidding me?

Fuck. You.

Me: Yes. I'm kidding you. This is a comedy club. Here's my next joke: How could I not be depressed sitting next someone whose life is so empty that she has to shove her unimportance into a stranger's conversation? Now get back on your cell phone and continue to tell your therapist about how other people are dating other people.

I stared at her. She stared back at me.

Woman: Stop staring at me.

Me: I'm just waiting for you look away to be sure my conversation can continue uninterrupted.

The woman did not look away. Why wouldn't she just look away? I picked up her plate and dropped it onto the ground where its shattered into a few big pieces, leaving food remnants on both of our shoes.

Me: Thanks for cheering me up.

That's when I made the woman eat her destroyed meal off the floor and left.

Social Tip #1: Starting a Conversation with Strangers

I have always had a lot of trouble talking to strangers. What should I say to ensure they don't hate me right away? I decided to start my social progress by talking to women because they tend to be the people I have the most trouble with. Probably because I hate my mom. I read in a book (I will not say which because I don't want you to read it and become better at making friends than me) that a great way to start a conversation with a stranger is to give them a sincere compliment. This is a direct transcript of my first conversation with a stranger:

Me: Hey, those are some snazzy boots.
Woman: These aren't boots, they're leg braces.

Woops. Now she thinks I am stupid.

Me: I knew that. I just didn't want to bring up your depressing, depressing leg braces.
Woman: (No response)

Recovery not successful. Abort mission and leave.

Me: Get out of my way, I have a marathon to finish.

Off to a bad start but learned an important lesson: Sincere compliments do not work when they are not accurate. Later, I tried again:

Me: Those are some really ugly leg braces.
Woman: These aren't leg braces. This is a wheelchair.

Final Thought: Sincere compliments are not helpful when strangers are disabled.