I am funny.
And not like oh, yeah ha she makes me giggle. I am hilarious. It is one of those undeniable things about me. I laugh way too loud. I always buy drinks. I pick up at all hours of the night. I always know what to say. I make friends everywhere I go. I cook too much food and invite people over to eat it. I know a bar and/or strip club you should go to in just about every major city in this country.
But I wonder sometimes, more often as of late, if I have completely surrounded myself with people who know how to deal with me when I am not those things.
When I am not on. When I am not charming and witty and funny. When I am not mixing to strong drinks or doing pretty makeup or taking pictures or playing wing man. When I am not hitting my dougie to ignorant southern music or doling out sex advice.
I wonder if people know how to comfort me as I do them. If they know what to say to me when I am blue or despondent.
And if they don’t, if it is they are incapable or uninterested in doing so, or if I have not appropriately articulated my needs in that regard.
Either way, it’s disappointing.