Hey now, I wouldn't be so socially awkward if I didn't have to go everywhere by myself. Alas, the last four numbers I got with the express purpose of going out together (as friends) have all led to naught.
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My ex-friend (and my sister's ex-boyfriend) Mike had an annoying habit of wearing people down with questions. You could have a "conversation" with him for minutes on end consisting mostly of one-word responses to his endless series of follow-up questions. These weren't even questions he was interested in knowing the answers to, it was just his own wrongheaded way of making smalltalk, although the end result was usually suffocating to the other person.
In fact, I even made a cartoon lampooning this annoying habit of his:
But Mike isn't the most socially awkward person I know by far. In fact, he's more socially adroit than I am; whereas he's a little too insistent with smalltalk, I'm nonexistent with smalltalk.
At the bar we went to a few times a week, there was a man there named Robert (yea... just like me!) Robert was around 300 pounds- supposedly an albino black man- and had some form of speech impediment. Whenever there was a band playing, he was usually by himself on the dance floor, bobbing arhythmically to the music about three feet from the stage.
One night a horrid old crone sat next to me at the bar. She looked to be about 60, although she could have very well been a prematurely aged 40, and she smelled like a combination of body odor and pot. She tried hitting on me, and when that failed, offered to set me up with her gay son. I gently but firmly expressed my noninterest in either option. Eventually she found the other Robert, and started dancing with him, making revolting, sexually suggestive gyrations with an air guitar while Robert did his bobbing up-and-down thing. Robert never looked happier; I have no trouble believing this was the first time in his life he had been the recipient of positive female attention.
So Mike decides to walk up the couple and start chatting. Robert, apparently afraid that Mike's attempts at smalltalk were going to cockblock him, starts freaking out and squalking like a bird.
Knew a guy who couldn't figure out why he could was unable to get laid. He listed his positive attributes, amongst which and I shit you not, was "I have a nice jacket. My parents bought me a nice K-car. I plan to be an accountant, so will always have a job..."
