Michael D. Davis

He stood before me with a confidence and ease that hadn’t been seen since the likes of Humphrey Bogart or Paul Newman. He didn’t wear pants. He didn’t need pants.

He touched my nose and said, “Tickle, tickle.” It was in that instant that I realized, even though I was in a room with about 10 other adults, It was the toddler before me that had everything figured out.

This was last Friday evening, and I attended an adult’s birthday party. This was one of my first events of this kind, and no offense to my hosts, but probably one of the last. They did nothing wrong. Although, the man cooking the burgers did fill the house with more smoke than Willie Nelson’s tour bus. No, this is a me thing.

The night didn’t get off to a good start as my Ma and I were supposed to follow my sister to the location of the party. However, we hit the highway, my sister hit the gas, and her tail lights blinked out of existence over the horizon.

So I had to use Google Maps to find the place. This took us on some back gravel roads with hills steeper than an oak tree. When we arrived at what Google said was the location, we didn’t see my sister.

We called the host, he looked out the window and said we were at the right location. So, we called my sister. She said she was waiting for us. We asked where. She said the turnoff.

My Ma started to give her a chewin’ for havin’ sped off out of sight, but before she could really get goin’, I said we were already at the place and to hurry up. When my sister finally arrived, my Ma wanted to rip her head off, but since we were at a birthday party she didn’t think it was polite.

My anxiety and uncomfortableness rose throughout the night. Things that don’t bother other people seem to affect me. I’ll take you step by step.

I walked into another person’s house. I don’t much care for goin’ into other people’s houses. It’s like I’ve breached their personal bubble.

People had their shoes off. I don’t understand the shoes off household. I didn’t take my shoes off, but I felt like I broke some sorta rule.

They had dogs. I love dogs. I am allergic to dogs. I was wiping my nose after 20 minutes. Also, dogs like to bark at me. It happens a lot. That night, their dog sat before me, staring into my soul and growling. The growl was equal to half’s kitten purr and the monster heard behind the fence in the movie “The Sandlot.”

I didn’t talk much. There was no real conversation going on — of the conversations that were thriving, they weren’t the type I thought I could jump into. Plus, they were group conversations. Group conversations are like holding press conferences; you say one thing, and then take questions from the crowd. I sat there on my phone, internally cursing myself for not being more active in the situation. I wished I could be more like the toddler that was runnin’ around pantless. No care. No anxiety. Just comfortable being himself, no matter if he was in a group or all alone.

By watching shows like “The Big Bang Theory,” “Seinfeld,” “Cheers,” and “Friends,” I thought it’s normal to be in groups, have dinners, and play games. I thought there was something wrong with me for not doing such things.

But then, on Sunday, I had lunch with an old friend. It was just me and my friend. We ate, and we talked, for about two hours longer than I was at that party on Friday. And it donned on me, some use the phrase “people person,” but me; I think I’m just a “person person.” No groups needed. Just me and a friend, telling stories, having a conversation.

I will end this by badly paraphrasing a great philosopher, George Carlin. Carlin once said that he liked people individually, it was when they got in groups that he saw a problem. I think Carlin, like myself, was more of a person person.