I just looked at my hands, speechless.
But I should have said something. I should have said “Just break up with me already. If the volume of my round of applause is a source of contention, clearly, this relationship is over, internally. Now it’s just a matter of getting it out in the open. So just fucking say it. You want me to clap? You want me to start clapping at everything so you can lose your shit and call the whole thing off in a fit of disgust and frustration? Because I will. I will behave like a moron for as long as it takes for you to break up with me because I don’t want to be the person to be the breaker upper”
Never mind the fact the word “clap” is defined as “ a loud explosive sound” . I think I was doing it right.
Nobody else has ever mentioned anything about my clapping technique, positive or negative.
The relationship went on for about another year. I would fluctuate between stifling my claps and going over the top with them, depending on how I felt about him at that particular clap generating event. Sometimes I would clap with delight in the midst of a conversation, just to remind him how much I annoy him. I was in the “ what passive aggressive behavior can I take on to push his buttons and make him fuckin nuts?” phase of the relationship.
It’s amazing how much we will torture each other as human beings instead of having an honest conversation.
I don’t know why this “you clap too loud” thing has been on my mind for the past few months but it has. “Fuck him. I’m a good clapper. “ is just an example of the ridiculous self talk I’ve been having. I mentioned it to my friend over beers the other night and she said “ You have to get out more”.
You know you look like a real sad sack when your friends are telling you to get out more.
I agreed with her “ Yeah. You’re right. I need to get out more”
I’m not going out more. I’m tired. I’m sick of being out. I want to be in.
I can keep myself entertained at home. My new thing, when there is a good picture of me on facebook, I tag cute guys in the picture even though they are not in the picture. I tag them “by accident” so they are forced to look at the good picture of me. See? I’m fine at home. It’s a reach I know but sometimes it spurs some online conversation.
Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.