Do You Ever Disappear?

The other night the Boy Scout invited me to an event at a local business, Milwaukie Floral, that has a monthly “Curators Market”. It brings together small businesses, without store fronts, to a place to sell their wares and make themselves known in the community, as well as the opportunity to mingle and create. Each month the owners pick a drink and about 15 people can sign up to learn how to create it. Clearly, it’s less about the drink and more about sitting around the table and having a good time. Each place setting is set up with treats from the participating vendors like nuts, honey, sugars and baked goods. It’s a great little event. Boy Scout has been invited to host the next one, which will be strawberry mojitos, so he wanted to check this one out. 

While I’ve been coming out of my social shell over the last few years, these kind of events can still be awkward for me. But he wanted me to tag along, so I did. When we arrived, I quickly spotted that there was not a setting for me. There were a few empty chairs but they weren’t set up. My name didn’t get on the list. Not that big of a deal but they couldn’t set an additional place so I set at an empty one next to the Boy Scout. 

I struggled to hear the drink host. She had a soft voice. The two gals sitting next to me were friendly enough but I had trouble hearing them too, with all the laughter and babble. The Boy Scout got involved in a conversation with the man next to him. So engrossed was he that he turned his chair in such a way so that all I could see was his back. 

So there I sat. Unable to participate in a meaningful way, trying to be a part just by listening in, trying to enjoy the moment. But truthfully I felt alone and invisible. At one point Boy Scout turned to me to let me know that he had homework to do when we got home and then turned back. Once the drinks were done, everyone was laughing and chatting but I had had enough. Why, I asked myself, do I continue to sit here, feeling more alone than if I was sitting alone at home with the dog? Isn’t it odd how groups can do that? I gave my regards to Lisa and Diane, the two ladies sitting next to me and made my way to the car. As I waited, I realized that it had felt very like the times when I was a child and my father had stopped somewhere telling us he would be out in just a minute and he would come out an hour or two later, having left us sitting in the car, having acted as if we were insignificant, unimportant, INVISIBLE. 

We made our way home, not talking. I dropped him off and went to see a movie, hoping to process the complex feelings I was having. I didn’t do a good job. When I got home, we had a fight. I wish we hadn’t but we did. I felt let down, invisible to the one person that I count on to see me. I could have handle this a lot better. Live and learn.