The Sounds of Silence

Once again this weekend, your intrepid introverted narrator found himself in discomfiting territory.

Friday night we were invited to a party at a friend/acquaintence's house, and we went. The early part went well, as people were intently watching the Phils versus the Dodgers, and the late-arrivers hadn't shown up yet. But around about ten or so, the game was over and the house had filled.

And when you fill a house with people, I don't care how big the house is, it gets hot. And loud.

Have you ever noticed the conversational dynamic at a party? In the early hours, the conversations are conducted at normal volume, but as the night progresses and more alcohol is consumed and more people are talking, each conversation dials it up a bit, so as to be heard over the other conversations going on. And then the other conversations dial it up as well. And before you know it, people are shouting into each others ears just to be heard.

This is the type of stuff that absolutely feeds Mrs. P. But not so much me.

It makes me laugh when I watch movies that are set in bars or cocktail parties and the principles are talking in normal conversational tones, standing a few feet away from each other, all while a band or something is playing away behind them. Because that is one of the biggest fictions that exists.

So, back to this party. All I could hear was something that sounded like the slapping of individual syllables from random places around me attacking my ears. It was like I was inside a conversation factory, where 100,000 conversations per hour were being produced. My brain was zinging with all of that auditory input.

This is not really my scene. I had to escape to the front yard at least once, just to let my brains stop throbbing. If I could just give up, sit on the periphery, and wait for the thing to end, I could handle it. But that's not how it works. I am required to try to integrate myself with other people. Ask them questions. Try to hear their answers. Try to be witty.

It doesn't work so well. Not for me.

I used to think that this was a function of my degrading hearing. That if I got hearing aids or something, I might have a better shot at distinguishing foreground noise from the background din, but upon further reflection, I remember that for the most part, I avoided massive crowded parties back in college, before my hearing was in the toilet, so I kinda wonder if my assessment is wrong.

If maybe I just have a problem with processing all of that auditory input.
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This is my high school's reunion weekend. That's the reason for the party mentioned in the previous section. So while there, I saw a bunch of faces I semi-recognize. And had a few conversations with people I used to know.

But the biggest surprise of the weekend came a few days before this party.

While filling my car up, the hostess of the party pulled up to the pump behind me, and in conversation we started talking about the guy who was coaching the in school soccer team both of our sons play on. And in that conversation, she revealed to me that this man's wife, with whom I was reasonably socially acquainted, was one and the same person as someone I knew over twenty years ago.

Although I have been at cookouts and had conversations with this woman in the last couple years, I never ever would have made the connection to who she used to be. Back in the day, she was actively pursued by several people around me. She was a princess. She was a "Heather" (hopefully that reference means something to you.) She wasn't in my school, but my best friend was in love with her, and dragged me to her house a few times, hoping to woo her.

She was sweet about it, but she was not to be wooed. Not by him.

I honestly would not have ever made the connection that this was the same person if my acquaintence hadn't pointed it out.

Everyone changes over twenty years. But it was mind blowing how different my first impression of her was twenty years ago as opposed to two years ago.

Because two years ago, as elitest as it might sound to say it out loud, I felt somewhat "better*" than her, whereas twenty years ago, it wasn't even a question that I was not even in the minor leagues of the league that was her league.

Don't get me wrong. She's a nice person. But she's far from perfect.

Yesterday I saw that old friend of mine who used to drag me to her house to try to woo her. He'd kinda changed over the years too. Gained a bit of weight. Lost a bit of hair. I asked him if he remembered "Heather." His eyes sparkled a bit. He remembered her. Perhaps a bit too fondly.

I decided not to reintroduce the two -- let them retain their memories of a faded youth that could have been but never was.

When I talk with "Heather," I'm torn. Do I mention to her that I knew her way back when? Ultimately I decide not to. Because I don't want to put her on the spot - I know that I didn't make an impression on her way back when. She's the type of person who would have mentioned it if she had made that connection. Also, I don't know what sorts of walls she has between her life as a Heather and her life as a soccer mom. If she has defense mechanisms up, no good could come from traversing them. And if she doesn't, no harm comes from NOT going there.
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* What does "better" mean? Good question. I'm pretty sure I am smarter than she is, for whatever that's worth. I may be happier than her, too, but happiness is a bit difficult to gauge. She seems riddled with anxieties that are very different than mine. And somewhat more acute than mine.

But, of course, I could be wrong.