Talking the talk
I can haz small talk?
I CAN’T do small talk.
It’s just beyond me.
I’m in awe of anyone who can do it for longer than two or three minutes.
You stand there at a party, glass of warm wine or flat 7up clutched in your sweaty paw, grinning awkwardly at complete strangers, mumbling about the weather or the latest about the recession.
I usually end up cursing. Not on purpose, just out of awkwardness.
“Fucking rain, eh? Yeah, Met Eireann said it was going to be pissing down today.”
It’s only when I see the widened eyes and pursed lips of the other party goers that I realise I’ve done it again.
It’s not only strangers I’m awkward with, I can’t do small talk with friends or family either.
I rarely ring anybody just for a chat, reserving the phone for when I actually have some news or need to ask a question.
Mammy Dunne on the other hand checks in regularly just to say hello or to see what’s new or what’s happening.
Nothing.
Nothing’s happening Mam. I don’t know what to say to you, I got up and worked, had my dinner, did some cleaning. My knickers are pink today, if that’s any use to you.
I’m the same with Yer Man. He’ll come in from work all questions.
How was your day? What did you do? Any news?
The day was grand, same as always, no news. I know he wants me to be one of those women from the ads on TV who never shut up, who talk at a mile a minute and who go into great detail about the minuate of their day, but I just can’t get it up for him.
I’m a monster. It’s terrible. I can’t even stir myself to talk to my husband.
It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him, or to my mother, or to the randomers at the party, that I think I’m above them or something – it’s just sometimes, I have nothing to say!
I’m equally as taciturn when the shoe is on the other foot – I can’t bear to LISTEN to small talk either. I try my hardest not to be rude about it, I nod and smile and try to engage. But inside I’m thinking ‘I don’t care, I really really don’t care.’ And I don’t. I can’t help it.
I had an online conversation today with two very lovely women who talk to their mothers between four and nine times a day. Plus a couple of emails and text messages.
They talk all the time, chatting about their day, plans for the evening and even more indepth stuff, everything and anything really. It’s no hardship to them, if they didn’t do it, they’d miss it.
These people are like aliens from another planet to me! (In the nicest possible way of course.) How do they do that? How do they have nine conversations a day with their mothers? Or anybody for that matter?
I’ve long since thought that I have no soul, that I’m an empty shell of a human being – I don’t listen to music, I have no passions, very little stirs me to any sort of reaction and I despise the sorts of TV show that everybody else raves about – and this small talk thing only confirms that for me.
A monster with no soul, that’s me.
How about you lot?
Are you a talker – or have you the blackest of black souls?
Haha Karen, I do hate the awkwardness of small talk myself, and I wudnt exactly call myself “the shyest of the shy”! But give me someone I have something in common with, someone I know & like & I could talk for Ireland…about anything & everything!!
God help them people haha
Natalie Ward - March 20, 2012 at 22:11 |
It’s weird Natalie cos sometimes even when I like someone and have loads in common with them, I don’t have much to say! I think I’m turning into a Grumpy Old Woman before my time!! Ha!
beatingmyselfintoadress - March 20, 2012 at 22:23 |
Karen, I think we’re kindred spirits – I feel exactly the same way about small talk. Sometimes I think I must be very abnormal as other people seem to find it so easy. And listening to other people make small talk is excruciating, I find myself nodding along mindlessly and saying “Oh my God, I know” and I want to slap myself.
I do have passions – I think – but I rarely want to talk about them.
From your fellow soulless monster x
tryingtobegrownup - March 20, 2012 at 22:22 |
Yeyyyy! A fellow soulless monster! Am delighted I’m not the only one. I too sometimes feel like I’m not normal, that I SHOULD be talking away and I feel there’s something wrong with me because I don’t do small talk.
beatingmyselfintoadress - March 20, 2012 at 22:24 |
Well, you know my thoughts ha ha! Exactly the same as yours, in fact small talk scares the bejesus out of me. I will do anything to avoid it.
I did think I was alone though, nice to know I’m not the only unsociable freak.
nuttygal - March 20, 2012 at 22:49 |
nuttygal, I tried to leave a comment on your blog but the Spambot wouldn’t let me – anyway, just wanted to say the ‘person you know sitting beside you at the beginning of a long bus journey’ scenario is my worst small talk nightmare. I’ve literally pretended to be asleep in this situation to avoid inadvertent eye contact and 40 minutes of excruciating chit-chat
tryingtobegrownup - March 21, 2012 at 17:29 |
i am the queen of small talk, but only in knuckle-chewingly awkward situations. it’s hard work, and i’m lazy, so i only do it when my social survival skills kick in. then i’m like Bear Grylls, drinking his own piss and smacking his lips.
i wasn’t always good at it, it’s a learned skill. i blame work and my crawling desire to be loved.
Rosie - March 21, 2012 at 10:48 |
Since having a child I’ve become much better at small talk – which is just as well, since random older women on the street seem to take a small child as an open invitation for a chat with you. But outside of meaningless chitchat about sleepless nights and teething, I find my brain just goes blank when forced to make small talk. Some inane comment about the weather and then I’m all out of ideas.
Lisa | Mama.ie - March 21, 2012 at 13:18 |
I’m the same – Small talk is the enemy – I can last about a minute. Even with my boyfriend, I’m exactly the same.
Hello fellow souless monster!
wierdo - March 21, 2012 at 22:12 |
Football. Football is your man for filling awkward conversations with about 50% of the population. For the rest I go with one compliment and then hopefully discuss everyone else in the room. Ultimately though, every conversation must revolve around me. I think my absolute narcissism is the reason that most small talk fails around me. I can’t pretend to give a shite about anyone else. And if I can’t talk about my favourite team (cause I can’t be bothered keeping track of the others) or if they don’t bite the ‘look at us, we’re great, now let’s talk about the people who aren’t us’ bait my small talk sinks like that time I dropped my sister’s fancy soap down the toilet.
Sarah Gill (@Not_So_Witty) - March 23, 2012 at 00:25 |
Football talk is the only ‘small talk’ I’ll engage in, hence my mistrust of any man who doesn’t like football – it’s an immediate conversation stopper. This makes me small minded but I don’t care.
(Pauses a moment)
It could rain. Mild enough, though
Radge - March 23, 2012 at 19:40 |
I’m the exact same!
My mother will ring me in work even though I saw her the evening before.I don’t understand this at all, I went home I went to bed, got up and arrived at work, if the sky had fallen in during that interval I would ring her. I don’t understand the “What you up to?” phone calls, phone calls should serve a purpose, if not they’re a waste of my time and the callers.
Thankfully I’ve married a non small talker too, when we get home it’s usually “Any News?” “Nah, you?” “Nope nothing” and that’s that
I can’t stand religious or political small talk, I suppose I’m quite opinionated and can’t understand how some people can think a certain way when certain facts are laid out to them. So for the sake of my blood pressure I just don’t do those topics. Now rugby, rugby I could talk about all day, although I can’t stand the idiots who watch George Hook and rabbit back his opinions, the man is a tool, and don’t get me started on O’Gara……..
Jac. - March 26, 2012 at 16:17 |