Small talk

I stand over the sink, brushing my teeth, and go over the options in my mind. Something to explain why I haven’t visited this particular couple for a over two years now, something lighthearted and funny, yet sufficiently plausible, with a touch of honesty that will hopefully make it irresistible.

“I didn’t realize being a boss would be so much work.”

“This is how you realize you getting older: the weekend comes around and all you muster energy for is lying around in your sweats watching Netflix.”

“I actually had a minor breakdown earlier this year. A warning signal from my body, you know? It’s just been brutal.”

And then I segue into an earnest inquiry about *their* lives: “But enough about me — how are *you*?” There will be enough stories about incompetent bosses and co-workers, plus his delicate health (a mismanaged diabetes that’s seriously affecting his eyesight), to keep us going for the hour, hour and a half tops we plan to stay there. Plus the child. There’s always conversation when there’s a child, although I’ll bring that up only as a last resort, because it’s what I’m least interested in and I’m afraid it will show in my face.

A trip of almost two hours to exchange small-talk for an hour. I spit into the sink and rinse. It doesn’t seem fair. I understand this is one of The Boyfriend’s oldest friends from school, I understand (theoretically) the importance of cherishing these connections, but why must I be a part of it? Why must I sacrifice a whole Sunday afternoon to pretend being friends with these people?

They are good people, nothing wrong with them, I certainly like them enough to chat with them for a couple of hours. That’s not the problem. But this is my weekend. And yes, I do like to spend it watching Netflix in my sweats. So this sucks. I don’t get why this has to be part of being a couple.

I put on lipstick. At least I get to do that. I like putting on lipstick but I so rarely get the chance. She always wears make-up, so I feel justified.

I have my new earphones for the bus-ride. I have my small talk ready. I have my lipstick and one of my good t-shirts and my chunky necklace. The Boyfriend smells nice, and the sun is warm in my face.

Bring on the small talk.