This Is a Strange Sensation

I think it's called "happy." I could be wrong about that. I'm mostly going off what people have told me "happy" should be. Usually it's contrary to what I want to feel. At best, I am usually somewhat off-center from what people will consider happy. I usually stop at "contented," with elements of "amused." I'm not sure this is what happy is, but I think I'm approaching the target.

See, I've met someone. Nothing approaching serious at the moment. But tonight suggested the possibility of continued interaction.

As many new meetings happen these days, this one started in this ephemeral fantasia (temporary fantasy world for those without a thesaurus) called the internet. We exchanged emails for close to a week before she gave me her phone number. I was struck by intelligence of her written words, and impressed that she seemed comfortable with my skewed wit and from-left-field references. It seemed too good to be true. I actually asked Weevil if he was coaching someone up in some cruel social experiment. Nope. Turns out she's real.

I called her this afternoon, and had a voice to go with the name. The verbal exchange wasn't quite what the written was, but that's understandable. A written medium allows for the opportunity to edit your thoughts. She implicitly invited me out to a bar to watch her friends' band perform. I showed up and was confronted by her "wall of friends." As I mentioned earlier, I don't meet new people well. Now, I'm confronted with five new people. I felt as though I had been put on display. I kept waiting for someone to pipe up with "do a trick, fat man! Entertain us!" That never happened. Things actually went rather smoothly. I didn't scare her off, and felt somewhat comfortable among her friends. Odd.

It seems that it may be possible to integrate me into society. Maybe.