Reading social cues is hard for me. Sometimes I reevaluate a situation in my head for days after it occurred, just trying to figure out why I got funny looks after contributing to the conversation. When a conversation turns from serious to sarcastic or joking, my brain doesn’t get the memo. I cringe when I figure out what exactly happened, which is usually about two days later.
Tim has tried his best to save me from some of these social catastrophes. Really, he’s been my savior. I’ve learned so much from just watching him. God knew what he was doing when He introduced this socially awkward girl to that hilarious, quick-witted boy.
On Sunday night, we hopped on our bikes and rode into town to get some froyo. I know, we live in a ridiculously amazing town, where sidewalks connect everything and everyone. I was pinching myself and counting my blessings and all that. Tim and the boys brought their headlamps because we knew it would be getting dark soon. I couldn’t find my light but we were sticking together so I knew I would be fine.
Each of us were devouring our frozen sugary concoctions when a couple came in. He was in a sweatshirt, shorts and tennis shoes. She had a sweatshirt and tennis shoes on too, but I noticed her pink socks pulled all the way up over her knees and black capris pulled down over her socks. Her hair was pulled up in a cute ponytail and all her fly-aways were held back with a matching pink headband. Then I noticed it. She had dirt smudged only on her left shin and shoe!!!
My conclusion: she just got done playing in some sort of rec league softball. My life was complete. I now live in a town that has bike trails, froyo AND SOFTBALL LEAGUES FOR THIRTY-SOMETHINGS LIKE ME!!!
I got excited and loud-whispered to Tim (That is one social rule, I’m good about. I completely understand if you are talking about someone, you whisper, especially if it’s a stranger), “LOOK! She plays softball! I betcha it’s co-ed. And it’s right here in town! I should ask her what league she plays in. This is perfect!”
Tim paused, “Maybe…. but it’s October. Isn’t it a little late in the year to be playing softball? Maybe she just dresses like that, it could be a new trend we don’t know about.”
“But look at the dirt! She totally just slid into some base. I should ask her so we can play in the same league!!!”
Tim paused again, “Yeah, maybe…but isn’t this situation kind of like asking a lady if she’s pregnant? You might be right, but you still never ask, just to be safe.”
Dang it! I really want to play softball here, but he’s right, it’s better safe than sorry. And that pause thing he does, that’s genius. I should do that more when my brain starts to jump to conclusions. Pausing and evaluating = good. Asking a lady, who may have just got done doing yard work in pink socks and capris, if I can play softball with her = possible awkward situation. Tim saved the day again.
The potential yard working/softball player with a dirt smudge on her shin walked out of the froyo shop. We finished up and rode home. It was pitch black by then and the street lamps helped but they weren’t everywhere. The headlamps were a good call, except for the fact that I didn’t have one. Jack rode up beside me, “Hey Mom, I’ll be your navigator. I’ll shine my light and show you where to go.” Thanks buddy. I may need that light in more ways than one. I’m glad I’ve got all three of my boys with me to show me the way.