you are not invited

One of the socially awkward situations from high school (and remember my high school was atypically filled with nerds) was a party at Angela Bayer’s house that my friend Margot was invited to and one that I was not invited to. Margot lobbied on my behalf, and I recall her telling me not to say anything weird or comment about random things (like my previous lunchtime musings that sometimes my hair smelled of raisins, was it my shampoo?). I had to tone myself down, and sit with reserve alongside this group of people at lunch to be invited. In the end, Margot did secure me the okay to attend, and I went. The party wasn’t much fun. It certainly wasn’t worth changing my behavior to get accepted.

A decade later, I can now mostly look at my life objectively, but being not invited hurts no less, and it does get my Irish up. Last night I was not invited to dinner because a particular person was there. I was not invited and then told that “maybe” “if” after dinner they went out, I “might” get a call to meet them at a bar.

I was pissed. Reading between the lines: I was the maybe invitation, the ‘he might be able to put up with you after he’s had a few drinks’ person. And being that person, realizing that you are that unacceptable to someone else, is miserable.

It’s happened before with this same guy. To my face, he’s polite and friendly, and will even gesture to give one of those half-friendly half-armed hugs. His dislike of me is mostly hidden until I am gone. Later I am told, “I don’t know why, but he doesn’t like you.” Small bits of it have come out. I’m loud, opinionated, like baseball, say what I feel. I am, I realize, very east coast. These are all things that seem to really bother him.

I’m advised not to bring it up, to avoid conflict with him. To understand that he can only take my presence once in a while. It’s a little whisper, please go away quietly so that he doesn’t get grumpy or mad. Where’s the dignity in that? It just seems so juvenile and silly to temper myself so nothing comes to a head. It hasn’t been since high school that I’ve been in a situation like this. For the past ten years, I’ve felt fine being unapologetically me. And now I’m dating someone whose closest friend is a person I can’t be around.

I’m not used to this, being actively separated from my boyfriend’s friends. This friend’s dislike of me has to be pretty strong. Part of me, most of me, defends myself. What’s not to like. I’m great, smart and funny, and I love watching baseball. What’s wrong with him? This is entirely his problem. As I learned from Angela’s party, I’m not missing out on anything. I’m not the biggest fan of this guy either (and maybe that’s because he hates me . . .), but we share a very important person in our lives, and as adults I expect socially civil gestures toward each other.

But then there’s the horrible self-effacing part of me that worries about it, that cares what this guy thinks. What does he see that the rest of the world is missing? How have I tricked everyone else into liking me? That part of me is tiny, insignificant, it can be easily squashed, but it is exists, and this guy brings it out. Maybe that’s what really making me angry.