Why Can't We Be Friends? (But Really, Why Can't We?)

During high school - like most teenagers, I hope - I struggled deeply with identifying and confronting romantic interest. I had no idea how to talk to boys, hiding my nose in books to avoid eye contact with other people. Once, in my high school library, a boy I liked was standing over me talking to someone at a nearby table. I was not prepared for this.

Reading The Crying of Lot 49, I felt my face warm up. I knew I sometimes blushed when nervous, but this was much worse than normal. Normally, my cheeks would turn slightly pink and I'd resemble a cute cartoon character, albeit an extremely nervous one. But this time, my face literally reddened. It was so bad that I expected McCarthy to burst into the library and drag me out of the country. The boy standing over me even took notice and asked me if I was okay.

"I--I'm fine!" I stuttered. "I HAVE ROSACEA." Then, I ran from the library quickly enough to convince my fellow students of my super-hero potential. I was quite suave.

Another time, a boy I liked  (a different boy, though he was talking to the boy I encountered in the library so he might as well have been the same person, and, yes, I am aware that I was kind of slutty with my crushes but fortunately I wore bright orange tights and spoke of nothing but Lost, guaranteeing me little to no tangible romantic prospects) was walking in front of me in a crowded hallway. He asked his friend what he should do with the permission slip his parents had signed for a field trip that day. 

"TAKE IT TO THE OFFICE!" I said much more loudly than I expected. He turned around and was clearly quite confused. "Thanks," he said, his brow furrowing deeper than anyone's brow ever should. As you can see, I really did not know how to talk to romantic interests. 

Now that I'm happily in love and living with a wonderful person, you  might think I don't have these problems. And in a world where I continually improve as a human being, you might be right. I do not live in this world. In my world, I can't make new friends for shit. 

Gideon and I recently moved to Eureka Springs, where most of the residents are twice my age. These are nice people. I like these people. But I cannot divulge all the personal details of my life to them or mutually complain about twenty-something problems with them or call them over to my house after a long day to drink wine and watch The Voice on Hulu. I recently met a 24-year-old in Berryville who has quite a bit in common with me - and I'd love to be this woman's friend - but I absolutely screwed it up. 

"Yeaaaaaaaah well I love Lost, the best show of all time don't you know and you have to love it too, right? By the way I have a cat. Do you want to see pictures of him?" I blabbered. I actually shoved my phone in her face so she could see what my cat looks like. She said he was cute but I already knew that and  I wasn't sure if she even meant it. (And how could I be friends with someone who can't tell that my cat is the cutest cat in the whole world?) 

Guys, I thought I was done with this awkwardness when Gideon and I got together in January. I thought I didn't have to worry about the way I cultivate my personality anymore because I was comfortable with Gideon and his group of friends. (Of course, I have my own friends. Shout out to Dora, Kasey, Madii, Kelby, Amber, Alex and Nell! If I forgot to list you here that means we are not as good of friends as you think we are. Or I just didn't sleep well and can't think properly at the moment. It is probably the latter.) But now neither of us have friends we see every day, save for the cat. I am trying desperately to get us more friends and I am killing our chances every time I speak. 

Finding new friends is so hard. There are no self-help books for our specific situation. I know because I searched Amazon for "Finding New Friends When You Live in a Town Where No One is Your Age and All Your Friends Live At Least an Hour Away." 

Oh well. At least we have each other. 

And at least I have Hulu.