The other day when I was talking to my dad on the phone, he asked me if I had any social plans for the weekend...in a slanted manner. My sister recently got married, so I feel like my parent's eyes are on me now. (We haven't forgotten about my 23 year old brother, I think). No Dad, I'm not going to do anything this weekend. No Dad, I'm not sitting at home every night. No Dad, you're not going to see me married by next April. Give me a couple years.
But I don't really care if I don't have a social life! Here's the thing. I'm doing what I can to make friends and whatnot. I go to all the ward activities, I talk to (a few) people, I dress okay, I smell okay, I smile. Tonight, for instance, we had a ward break-the-fast. I brought black beans. It doesn't matter if I got my food and went back to my apartment, because you know what? It was cold. The grass was wet. I had a nice dry apartment 10 feet away where I could enjoy my dinner without having to choke over a poorly conceived conversation with someone mutually disinterested.
I don't feel desperate enough for company that I want to have to trip over myself in introductions and smalltalk. Things usually work out. And until the weather gets nicer, it had better be pretty worth my time for me to leave this apartment.
