I hate talking about myself;
which probably sounds like a lie because I have a blog but I'm not bull shitting you.
I LOVE to talk, I love telling stories, I even love re-telling movies I just watched to my best friend over the phone--you can ask her about that, it's happened more than I care to admit--but I hate having to come up with facts about myself.
And, I know this is going to sound like a lie, again because I have a blog, but I don't think I'm all that interesting.
I think the people I know are interesting, or books I've read/movies I've watched, I think sometimes interesting things happen around and to me, but me, my actual self, not so much.
This week, I met a friend for lunch.
My friend, Poblano, told me ahead of time that he was bringing one of his friends that I don't know.
Poblano's friend seemed pretty cool and then he says, "So I do this to everyone, I think it's a nice way of getting to know people: what are three things I don't know about you?"
"Well, I just met you 15 minutes ago. There's a pretty wide spectrum of things you don't know about me."
"Don't be nervous, any three things. It's just for fun," he said.
I don't know why coming up with facts about myself is so hard.
"I have a dog. And a cat. My cat hates me, he's really my dog's cat. Cries every time I take the dog for a walk or a ride."
Suddenly, I had flashbacks to my third grade writing assignment, "1 page about me."
I wrote 2 sentences about myself and 3 paragraphs about the Mondo, the Chihuahua my family had just adopted. After reciting my "1 page about me," paper, my teacher made me re-write it.
Apparently she didn't give a damn about Mondo and I'd misspelled Chihuahua at least twenty times throughout the course of the paper.
"Anyway, what are your facts?" I prompted Poblano's friend.
"Wait, wait, you're not done yet!"
"I really like to spend my spare time watching terrible movies on Netflix?"
I remembered being in sociology class freshman year of college. The professor made all 200 of us stand up and introduce ourselves and then say an interesting fact. I couldn't think of one.
"Hi my name is Lauren and I'm engaged to my high school sweet heart?" was ultimately what I blurted out. None of those things were even true. Except for my name being Lauren.
"Ok, one more," he was coaching me.
I'm prone to shin-splints!
I've never successfully planted anything from a seed!
I once covered myself with a card board box to avoid getting my hair wet on a rainy day as I tried to run to my apartment and accidentally stepped on a frog. Then I took the box off to see if the frog was okay because I felt guilty and ended up getting my hair soaked anyway!
But ultimately, "Umm... I like pizza? I do. I like pizza a lot. I like pizza more than most people. I would choose pizza over relationships with most of my acquaintances."
And the main reason why I hate talking about myself is I never have anything rehearsed, whereas the people who usually ask these sorts of questions know already what they're going to say.
For example, Pablano's friend's facts were: he is classically trained in violin; he thinks thunderstorms are romantic; he likes to hike.
To which all I could muster was, "Well now my facts feel all trashy by comparison."