A Little Longer Than an Introduction
You know you have just a bit of an issue when you literally spend 4 hours trying to figure-out how to introduce yourself to your one tumblr follower. But let me just say thanks for not unfollowing me. It means a lot to have you. If I’m going to be honest, I have on of the worse writing languages ever. Legit typos out the ass. The last time I tried to an introduction to a group of people, I figuratively yakked all over myself. It was like I couldn’t even stop talking. I’m pretty sure that everyone stopped listening to me because they kept on down the line of people after I said “I’m Justin..”. Ive never been particularly good at making a proper first impressions. My entire high school career consisted of me walking up to people I didn’t know and saying “Hey, I’m Justin and I’m socially awkward. When I get a little nervous I pee on myself a little and that makes me ramble quickly to get to the end of conversation.” and them not know how to react. Normally, this would pair with a sweaty handshake but I stopped doing that when people would aggressively wipe their hands off while I was watching them. To be fair, my school consisted of approximately 600 total students so I was reintroducing myself to the same few people I introduced myself to about a week or so before. So they knew me but I never once knew them. Then my introductions started to get a little better: “Hey, You may not want to shake my hand they sweat buckets. But I’m Justin. I pretty sure I’m erected. Not because I think you are attractive but because of how nervous I am. Wait, It’s also because I think you are attractive in an intimidating sort of way. Oh well it’s gone now.. Maybe I wasn’t attracted after all” When I was younger, I had no problems with introductions. In fact, I’d say it was a mastered skill…that my dad had. He would introduce me with something along the lines of “This is my smart gay son who I’m oppressing mentally by never letting him see his friends. Essentially, he is queer Rapunzel, except he is not white, a woman, he doesn’t have long hair and pretty much no one is coming to rescue him.” But it always managed to sound like “this is my son, Justin”. My dad and I look pretty similar when he was my age. So I figured eventually my introductions would be that great and low-key. Sometimes, I stare at his younger photos and convince myself that it’s me in the picture. I start to wonder why I can never remember taking the picture. I fantasize about it until eventually I come up with story as to say why I don’t remember and usually it involves being 1) super drunk 2) poisoned by myself accidentally or 3) advanced alien hypnotism. Whenever, I went to my grandmother’s house I typically use the excuse number 3 to explain why neither of us remember that being me in the pictures. The excuse pretty much caught on as the reason she forgot things. Recently, she was diagnosed with dementia and whenever she forgets something I usually hear her mutter “those damned aliens cunts”. I’ve never heard her use that aggressive language before. The story, apparently, was so convincing that eventually I was no longer the grandson but the son that the aliens took from her. Over the course of time, the aliens part disappeared and I was just her son…then that disappeared and I was just a stranger. Unfortunately, this meant I had to reintroduce myself to her. I decided she was the best person to practices my introductions on because in a few hours she would forget about that embarrassing encounter and I could start over. Eventually, I got so good at introductions that I can say. “Hey, I’m Justin. Welcome to my blog. This is where you will hear all of my embarrassing stories. Most of these stories are true mixed with an incredibly active imagination from what I felt like really happened. I hope you like it.”
