Here’s a strange thought if you know me.
I think I have run out of things to say. Not in every context, but in a simple – interacting on a social or human level.
I have lots to say and share as a low ranking officer in my family.
Plenty I could say about work – not always positive, but never negatively so.
But who wants to listen to that?
For whilst my family fills my life with joy and I need constant work on my elevator pitch for work, to sit over a pint or glass of wine and regurgitate 44 years of existence with anything fresh, seems a stretch at best.
I don’t like the TV you watch. I haven’t listened to the music you love. Films? Maybe with the kids, but would that really interest you?
I’ve even avoided some social situations because, well, quite frankly – I’ve played out the night, and it won’t be very interesting for you. It’s fine if we can line up our similarities for a couple of hours, but I need some quiet time between each mouthful of booze just to try and scrape together another set of half baked topics, to get us through to closing time.
Maybe it was always that way. Maybe the intoxication and indulgences of youth simply meant we’d forgotten half of what we had said to each other, so it didn’t feel out of place to repeat ourselves most nights. Maybe I just liked the sound of my voice – less so, now.
Or did life become satisfyingly happy but content and context free, when I reached an age where all I have to offer is the lives of others – at home or work.
This seems to be a lot of words to simply say “Christ, I am boring – unless you have kids, know what a Delivery Lead in an SME does, or can spare me an hour to talk about podcasts or low intervention wine?”
So yeah. I have run out of things to say. So I don’t always feel like going out. And I definitely don’t want to tell you about my kids, my job or that niggle I get in the back of my knee when I sit down at work all day.
Anyone else just want to go and get drunk in silence?