(Let’s just pretend I posted yesterday and didn’t fall asleep at 5:30…in the afternoon.)
I go around feeling like there are certain things I know about myself. I mean, I’ve been around me for thirty years now. I know what I will and won’t talk about on a first date, or what I’ll share with a new friend or the things I’d talk about with my boss.
But then there are these moments when you’re sitting across the table from someone you just met a few hours ago and underneath bad lighting and between bites of milkshake you hear yourself share bits of yourself you swore you’d never say on a first date. Or while watching a new friend fold her underwear suddenly you’re sharing a story you haven’t shared in years, but is one that’s shaped who are you as a person in ways you’re only beginning to realize. Or in the middle of a meeting you’re not planning out the next month, instead you’re swapping stories with your boss and co-worker about being 30-something in the Midwest and dating and all of the special little hells that entails.
I thought I knew myself pretty well, but I keep having these moments.
(Also, this is my 100th post. *throws confetti*)