I’m a Lousy Dancer

by SprinklinThoughts

You know, I’m actually a very shy creature. This could be because of the beatings I took as a child, or because I was picked on when I was a boy, or because I was laughed at as a teen. Then again, it could be because I see things differently and we all know what happens to anyone in this society who is different.

Anyway, on top of my shyness I believe that I am on the low end of the autistic scale (self-diagnosed) – somewhere in the Aspergers area. When I talk to people, I sometimes go on a bit too long, or I get lost in what I’m thinking and forget to see what I’m seeing and miss those all important body-language cues – which I’m not really good at reading anyway.

Then again, maybe I’m just stupid. Easy answer… about covers everything, doesn’t it?

In short, any sort of social interaction takes a huge amount of effort and thus soon drains me to a degree that can be (literally) unhealthy.

Oddly enough – or following but not at all oddly – if I am in a situation where the (social) rules are easy to understand and firm, I can hold my own pretty well. Except I still have a difficult time with ‘small talk’ and I cannot tolerate bullshit. I suppose that’s why I’ve been fairly successful in the workplace and as a manager. Quirky manager/employee? Certainly. But still, successful enough. That is, until they started changing the rules.

Even here on this bloggy thingy… I think ‘oh this should be a good post’ and I get no comments. Or I think, ‘this one is not so hot, but may as well post it since I’ve put the (writing) time in’ and I get a good deal of ‘likes’ and comments. I really don’t understand this at all. Never have and probably never will.

Or, I’ll try to ‘participate’ and post a comment – one that is as positive & contributory as I can make it – only to find that I was way off the mark. Misread some cue someplace. Just another reason to keep my mouth shut.

One time, during a divorce process, I went to a psychologist – thought I’d give it a try to see what happens. Brought some of this stuff up, including the Aspergers thing. Guess what. I found myself being escorted out halfway into my third session, “Oh you’re doing fine, you don’t need me. Call if…” Say what? OK, see ya.

So what am I trying to say here?

Beats me, just trying to write one of those posts that people will like, comment on, and maybe help to make me famous.

Not really… well… maybe a little… (Come on… Don’t we all write for some kind of recognition, acceptance, agreement…?)

Seriously, what I’m trying to say is this: although I’ve been told that I am graceful, supple, even ‘fluid’, I’m a lousy dancer. I mean a *really* lousy one. So bad actually that I don’t dance at all – won’t even try it.

Still don’t believe me? Then how about this:

   “And what can you offer me?” she asked, “You seek my friendship but know not how to be a friend. In truth you are dull, dress poorly, cannot entertain, dance not, hold poor conversation, have an ungraceful manner, indeed seem a seriously wounded soul. Yet you do have a gentle disposition and a good heart. But these are not enough to win mine. So what do you offer for my heart Mr. M?”
   “The only thing I can. That which no other may, for we are matched. I offer you my heart and all that comes of it.”
   “Alas, ’tis not enough, for I dare ask more than just a heart. I want to dance, to sing, to laugh, to play – and in these you know not how to accompany me.”
   “This may be true, but might it be that my heart is capable but practiced not because it still waits to be wakened? Or that once wakened it was broken?”
”   It matters not to me for I am not a mender of hearts. And with that I will bid you a good day, Mr M.”

A side thought: Why is it that we so often seek accompaniment to our desires, and so seldom to accompany another’s?

So if I happen to step on your toes, even though it may look like I did it on purpose, I didn’t. I mean, who the hell wants to step on people’s toes? Not me… that would be clumsy or, worse yet, unkind. On top of that, to make matters worse, my feet are so big that I sometimes don’t even know I did it (in case you can’t read between the lines – I’m lousy at that too – that would be the Aspergers thingy).

Add to this my particular propensity for ‘seeing’ the insanity that surrounds us, and… well I think you get the drift…