One is the loneliest number
Other Best Friend (the one who made the tiny cardigan with elbow patches) visited this weekend, and surprised me with a sort of proxy baby shower. She’d collected gifts from several people and agreed to deliver them. It was very sweet. It was also very pathetic. This is stupid and selfish and ungrateful, but indulge me for a moment, because I can’t say this to anyone else, but feel like I’ve got to say it.
I’ve always been someone who wasn’t interested in fitting in, and anyway, it wasn’t gonna happen even if I’d given it my very best shot. If you’re a weirdo, you mainly think of it something you’ve chosen, but the truth is, it typically involves a certain amount of exclusion by others, too. Certainly in my case, my introversion is partly a product of being shunned by my peers during my childhood. That part is less charming, and it’s a sore spot that sometimes leads me to yearn to be just a regular girly girl. The kind who likes shopping and knows about makeup. The kind who would make a seamless girly-girl transition into pregnancy and motherhood. The experience of infertility was an isolating, ostracizing one, like I really needed more of those in my life. But now that I’m great with child, it’s not like I suddenly belong somewhere. I don’t belong with my weirdo friends, most of whom don’t want kids and so don’t really enter into this experience with much enthusiasm. I’m still not a girly girl with lots of girly girl friends who love talking about babies. I’m just a pregnant werido.
When the surprise was revealed, I burst into tears, and it took me a moment to realize they weren’t all tears of joy. I had to leave the room to sob convulsively, and that’s not what happiness does. Maybe I was secretly hoping my friends would find a way to surmount the obstacles of difficult schedules and travel and do something real, but for whatever reason, this pathetic excuse for a baby shower made me feel…pathetically pathetic. I really think nothing at all was working better for me.
Of course, I’m also very grateful to OBF for making this effort, and the logical part of my mind understands, and like I’ve said before, I don’t have a very baby-shower appropriate group of friends, and I should just shut up and be thankful for my Bun Bun, which, dear God, I am. And if I wanted to have loads of girlfriends, maybe I shouldn’t have been such an anti-social bitch all the time.
Anyway, here’s one of the gifts I received. I joked to BFB that Mr. Bunny and I were going to refuse to find out Bun Bun’s sex even after he was born, and do all diaper changes and baths with our eyes closed, and dress Bun Bun only in grey. It’s the only way to avoid gender socialization, I said. So she sent a little grey-striped onesie, which just happened to match Mama’s striped shirt. My friends may not love me enough to come to Ohio, but at least they’re funny.