I Am Not An Extrovert

He said he’d be here by 8:30 PM. I was ready.

He was late.

I just have to say that so I won’t forget.

He opened his car door for me.

I settled in. He started driving.

We talked about my recent blog post. On why people use Facebook. On why people behave like that in Facebook. On why we, ourselves, personally use Facebook.

Then he asked, “So when are you flying?”

“Tuesday”, I said. “I am actually deliberately not thinking about it.”

In the coffee shop…

Me: I know this won’t be the first time I’d do this, but still, I can’t help but feel sad. Could it be because of the possibility that I won’t be home for Christmas? Or the idea that I really don’t know when I will be home after this? *Sigh*  I think I am having this fear of letting go of the normal.

A: Fear of letting go of the normal? That sounds nice.

Me: I’m scared of the kind of life I will have there.  Will I have friends? Like real friends? Somebody I can talk to about stuff. Like this?

A: Did you ever have a problem making friends? I won’t believe you if you say yes. You are such an extrovert. You don’t have problems creating conversation. Why the hell are you so scared then?

Me: I don’t know. It’s just that life there seems so different. People there could be different. And for the record I am not an extrovert. I can be an initiator but I am not an extrovert.

And on and on we went until I was appeased that this move would be just like the others.

More than the fear of having a culture shock, of experiencing homesickness, of adjusting to a new life, the idea of not having that one person who can totally understand me freaks me out the most.

But I will hang on to his faith that it won’t be that bad.

It will not be that bad.

Then we fell into a comfortable silence. It’s 12:30 in the morning.

A: Let’s go?

Me: Ok.

It was a 15 to 20-minute drive.

He parked outside our house. We hugged. We won’t be seeing each other anytime soon.

I went down the car and started to walk.

He rolled the window.

He forgot to give me something.

A gift from India.

Thank you and I’ll see you soon.


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