I Suck at Small Talk

(All right, finals are done, and class is over for the summer! That means I have more time for you, dear reader, because what else do I have to do in the evenings now except write blog posts? Well, aside from house work, and yard work, and vacations, and parenting, and... You know what? Homework isn't on that list for the next few months, and that makes the list one item shorter. I'll take it. And now, on to the topic du jour!)

I am an introvert. Any of you who know me should be unsurprised by this. And as those of you who are also introverts would no doubt agree, small talk is one of the more excruciatingly awkward things in life, especially with all of those darn extroverts who seem to like that sort of thing.

In general, the incomparable Allie of Hyperbole and a Half has a pretty good primer here. (And if any of you are unaware of Hyperbole and a Half, this is a situation to be corrected at once. Here's your chance to get started. Preferably after you finish this post, though, so that it doesn't seem as unfunny by comparison.) However, there's so much more to be said. (Yes, I'm aware of the irony.)

Here's my problem: small talk is one of the most unnatural things in the world for me. It's simply something I can't do. And that leaves me with two options:

1) Resort to a mental checklist of discussion topics. The problem with this, of course, is that I'm aware that it's a checklist, which makes something that's supposed to feel natural, and doesn't, feel even more unnatural. What kind if competent adult uses mental lists of topics for conversation?

And worse, I always feel like the other person knows that this is what I'm doing. How could they not? Why else would someone ask about your family and what you do for work in such a profoundly awkward way, with perfunctory responses and minimal segue? Honestly, sometimes it's sheer luck that the person I'm talking to finishes one topic before I'm asking them about the next.

And what do I say in response to the same questions? How much detail do I give? Too little, and I feel like I'm being obvious I don't really want to have this conversation. But too much, and it starts being all, "Oh my God, they seriously can't care this much about my answer. Why am I still talking? They didn't tell me this much, did they? I can't even remember! Maybe I'll just never see them again. That would probably be for the best. Oh, right, they're one of my best friends. So much for that hope." And who hopes to never see one of their best friends again?

Yes, I often do this with people I know well, not just total strangers. This is how bad I am at small talk.

2) In situations where I don't have a checklist, or I'm caught off guard... Okay, story time. I have a former boss who had trouble carrying on a conversation. You'd answer a question, or ask him a question, or he'd just be in the middle of telling you something, and he'd just stop. And he'd just stare at you. And stare. And stare. It's literally the most awkward thing I've ever experienced. What do you do about eye contact? You can't just keep looking at him, that's just weird. No one wants to just stare into their boss's eyes. But isn't looking away rude? And so is completing sentences. So you wind up just sitting there waiting for him to come around and start participating in the conversation again.

This is how I feel in these unscripted situations. (Yes, I think of (1) as scripted.) I often have literally no idea what to say. Even the sarcastic quips that I'm so good at aren't coming. (Or they're wholly inappropriate.) Now I'm just desperate for ways to show that I'm listening. How many times have I said, "Uh huh" in a row? Too many? How many times is too many? Can I mix it up with "Hmmm"? Is that even appropriate here?

And then I realize I'm doing this weird thing with my lips where I kind of purse them, or give these weird little half-smiles. It's supposed to indicate sympathy, or chagrin, or shared amusement or something, but now it just feels bizarre. Does the other person think it's weird, too? How can they not? I'm doing this weird thing with my lips and I can't stop and I'm responding in ways that can only barely be called verbal. Why are they still talking to me? How can this be a pleasant experience for them? I'm clearly the worst person in the world to talk to.

THEN, I'll actually think of good things to say. But they'll be too late, and then I'll keep thinking about them in my head, and wondering if that would actually be a good thing to say, and by then the conversation (or monologue, really, because I've barely said anything) has moved on. So hey, I'm participating in the conversation! But only in my head. Whoops.

And is there a single good way in the world to end a conversation? If so, I haven't found it. If I'm lucky, one of us will get distracted by something, and that'll be that. I'm not above feigning distraction, either. It's not something I'm proud of, but you have to end a conversation somehow, and the alternative is just kind of letting it peter out. And then you're left there with the other person, neither of you really talking. And then it just drags on, and on, and on...