Call Me Charlie

Issue 271

You guys,

I assume that if you live in my neighborhood I probably won’t like you.

We attend a birthday party down the block and my immediate response to everyone entering the yard is to judge them with a glance. He’s hungover; she’s wearing too much make-up; that kid is a terror and if he gets anywhere near my kid in the bounce house I’ll kill him.

There’s a mom standing by the swing set with her two little boys. My daughter wants to go down the slide and her son is standing on the ladder. She encourages him to move along so someone else can have a turn. She seems nice and normal, and aware, and we start talking.

Her boys are seventeen months apart, just like my kids, and she’s pregnant with her third. She tells me where her kids go to school, and I tell her where mine go to school, but that we’ll be going to Greece for three months in the fall, and when we get back we’ll start homeschooling.

She’s always wanted to go to Greece. Since her boys were born they haven’t traveled anywhere. I tell her how bad the first flight was, how we tried an iPad for the first time and my son didn’t know what to do with it, so he was stomping on it. But, I add, flying has been great since then, and they love to travel, and the iPads are great.

“Well,” she says, “we haven’t done screens yet and I don’t know if we will. I don’t know about you, but when my kids watch TV they turn mean.”

I nod, laughing as if I agree with her, and tell her we’ve had to take away TV plenty of times. She keeps talking, in fact moves on to a new topic of conversation, but I’ve stopped listening. I wait until there’s a break in the conversation and, even though it doesn’t make sense to bring it back up, I say, “Well, when we get back from Greece and start homeschooling, a lot of their learning will actually be app-based, so they’ll be on the iPads a lot.”

I cannot tell you how she replies, except that maybe she nods and says, “Oh.” I am too preoccupied with getting my comeback out, making sure that she knows that I am confident in my decision to use screens. That screens are not only not terrible, but necessary and good. The conversation fizzles after that. I ask Layla if she wants something to eat, so we can move inside the house and get away from the swing set.

When we get home from the party I ask Sam, “What is wrong with me? That lady didn’t care about our screen usage…This is why I prefer not to leave the house.”

The me who exists in public is not the writer me who gets to work through everything on the page and control the narrative. She is brash, blunt, reactive, hot, defensive. I often don’t like her very much. I wish she would calm the fuck down. Keep her mouth and her ego shut. Just be silent and listen and stop trying to impress people.

The next day I’m still thinking about it. I wonder what this woman is thinking about me, what she is telling her husband. I can’t shake the exchange. I can’t shake myself. It’s like I’m trying to get away from me but I can’t, because I’m her. I haven’t felt like this in a while. I thought it was because I had matured but now I think it’s because I’m a hermit. I limit my social interactions to grocery store trips and school pickups. I am safe in the confines of my home.

A week later I’m still thinking about it. I call my best friend and it’s all I can talk about. I tell her, “I hate all these people and I’m judging them, and at the same time I’m insecure and seeking their approval.”

Kylie, a therapist, laughs and says, “I think you just described the human experience.”

—

Until next week,

Charlie

P.S. Happy June! The first Memoir Snob Book Club takes place at the end of this month! If you missed the announcement you can read about it here. If you’d like to join us for the first one, fill out the Google form here.