The centre cannot hold

I was recently described as bizarre by this guy who I have met or rather have had coffee with three times, I think. I mean we obviously had interactions apart from the time when we met up for coffee.

But, to be called bizarre. There’s a first time for everything I guess. I shared this information with another person that I have recently met – and his response after the shock was, maybe you are working towards being bizarre. He asked it as a question and I am still struggling to find the answer to it.

How does one work towards being described as bizarre?

I have been called different, I have been called too set in my ways and thoughts, and that tall girl with a beautiful smile, but never in wildest dreams would I think I was or could be described as bizarre.

And that has kinda stayed with me. I mean its not playing on a loop in my head, but its there; popping up like that annoying ad jingle that plays almost on every radio channel that you switch to avoid it.

I have never thought of myself as bizarre. Never even worked towards being described as bizarre.

What behaviour tick of mine prompted this smug bastard (he doesn’t know I had named him that since before the introductions happened. He kinda sorta deserves it after description, I feel. I am being cheeky :-p

Initially I gave him the benefit of doubt, considering I don’t really know whether he is being sarcastic or you know blunt. My other friend, also had a similar reaction, “why would he call you that. It has a very negative connotation to it.” I don’t know I replied whilst thinking about that conversation. “Maybe he didn’t mean it in that meaning of it, I reasoned. Another friend, most positively brimming with hope responded with a resounding NO on being told the above description of her new friend. “You are quirky, I’ll give you that. But that doesn’t make you bizarre.  He didn’t mean it in a negative manner.

In what way did he mean it? Why do I have this inane need to breakdown every word uttered in a conversation where two people after a lot of exhaustive re-scheduling of meetings, misunderstood gestures of societal protocols, finally managed to make introductions, exchange numbers and make plans to meet.

I should be happy, grateful even, that after months of exchanging glances, I finally made the move; I got tired of waiting for him to make the move, and we met.

I might be like brand new information for him. It takes a while to digest something that you would have never expected to hear or see.

I’d appreciate either ways if I knew that that does not change how he feels about me. It wouldn’t matter to as much as it does not when I am currently unaware of his feelings about me. And I like to know, its one my personality quirks. It works both ways; mostly to my fruition and rarely to my futility.

It makes it easier to make a decision.

You could argue as to why I am giving so much power to a sort of stranger over your very well determined personality. Because I am vulnerable to him, and it felt good to be open to someone after a very long time. To have your actions laid bare to them, with so many doubts running through your head and they don’t know you. They don’t know that the reason for your perceived bizarre behaviour is nervousness, shy sometimes mixed with your animated, emotional and often way to expressive personality determined by your mood and on days when there is no yoga, determined by your coffee intake.

Sure they could be mistaken. We would never know until we hear from the SB again. And we don’t know when that would be.

But till then, the centre can’t hold and honestly Joan Didion is the woman of my words and I wish I had known about her sooner than now.

And you know what SB, we are all here doing our best and having fun while at it.

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