Titmice and Duets
I think everyone has at least one day in their middle school past that they wish could be erased. Mine was during 7th grade lunch break.
It happened right after Biology; a class which I already had an incident in earlier that year.
“The species I chose was the tufted titmouse,” I began.
A hand shot in the air. It was the boy who liked to tease me at any opportunity he had. “A tufted what now?” he said with a smirk.
“A tufted titmouse,” I repeated with a hint of agitation.
“What kind of mouse?” he questioned, almost unable to get the words out of his mouth, overly pleased with his own humor.
“A tit. A titmouse,” I relented knowing I walked right into this and started smiling myself.
“Can you spell it?” he said, feigning deep interest in this bird.
“T-I-T!” I retorted, clueing him in that I had played along with his joke long enough now.
Somehow, saying “tit” a handful of times during a class project didn’t really bother me.
On the day of my most embarrassing moment, Biology was far less entertaining. It was one of Ms. Sims’ dull, monotone lectures; lights off and PowerPoint slides humming. When the bell finally rang for lunch, my friend and I, still in a boredom haze, stayed behind and waited for our other friends to join us.
Little did I know that innocently waiting near the end of the hallway while the rest of the school plowed through would set me up for what came next. A boy further back in the hallway exuberantly broke out in song with his arms stretched wide, as he strutted down the hall surrounded by his friends. At the first climactic note, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, commanding the hallway stage.
When he returned from his dramatic moment, he beamed at me with bright, fearless eyes, eager to see my reaction. He wasn’t just singing at me––which alone would have been horrifying––he was expecting me to join in with him!
All my fellow 7th graders went quiet and slowed their pace, instantly forgetting their rumbling stomachs and pre-lunch gossip. No one wanted to miss this impromptu show.
I turned around desperately hoping he was singing to someone else, but no one was behind me. It was like the hallway went dark and spotlights flashed on me. And there I was looking like a confused fish, eyes bulging, mouth slightly open. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I imagined all the things my classmates might be saying.
“Who is that girl? Never noticed her before.”
“Why would someone want to sing to her? She’s not popular.”
“She’s just letting him embarrass himself. What a jerk!”
As more lines of the song came out, his eyes dimmed and his posture caved inward. He knew that what he had been daydreaming about all morning was not going to come true. In less than one verse, the hallway reeked of embarrassment.
I was mortified, but I should have seen it coming. This hallway soloist didn’t choose me carelessly. He was belting it out because I led him to believe that I was just as silly. I had been sending him funny messages and corny jokes on AIM for weeks, but hadn’t been courageous enough to talk to him in person yet. This was my chance to prove I was funny to a boy I had a crush on, and I didn’t live up to my virtual personality.
Neither one of us ever had the nerve to talk to one another for the year and a half remaining in middle school. The only other interaction was an awkward gym class volleyball game. As if gym wasn’t dreadful enough, I was placed directly across the net from him in a boys versus girls match. I barely moved (team sports weren’t my forte) yet I had enough anxiety sweat to look like the MVP of the team. Back then all I knew was avoid, avert, evade.
While remembering these two memories from 7th grade, I realized that the role of the audience was the key to my reaction. With the titmouse debacle, my classmates watching wasn’t really a factor in the joke. It was like he was kidding around with me and there happened to be people witnessing the banter. With my would-be duet partner, having a crowd was key to the moment being fun. If no one was watching, it wouldn’t have felt the same.
All these years, I thought I needed to remember the song or some of the messages I sent to learn from my mistake of seeming outgoing in messages then freezing in person. I thought without that knowledge, I was destined to repeat the same error, like while chatting on dating apps. It would only be a matter of time before a match read my messages thinking I was this fascinating person only to meet me and label me as a dud that wrote mildly witty sentences on occasion.
I realize now that it isn’t just luck that the handful of dates I’ve been on from the apps have gone smoothly. It’s that I’m okay talking to new people if it’s one-on-one. I have a chance to show my personality without needing to be over the top.
When I look back on my past career transition from accountant to personal trainer, I understand why it was initially so challenging for me. When I first started, I was like a humanoid, coordinated with the exercises, but robotic with my delivery. Almost every minute of my shift, I could feel the anxiety in my body: racing heart, dry mouth, fidgeting limbs.
But, as I got to know the members, especially during the quieter hours, I began sharing things, like how I thought this video of a woman unintentionally flashing her friends was hilarious, or how I accidentally trapped myself in my own bathroom for five hours, or how I once confused a conversation about Brazilian food with Brazilian bikini waxes.
With time, the gap between my written mind and my spoken mind narrowed. I made progress and didn’t think of my job as performing in front of an audience anymore. It was more like helping a group of close friends get stronger.
I’m still not sure if I’m okay with being shy and spotlight-averse. I have this sense that there is an energetic, spontaneous, duet-loving spirit inside me that’s unsure how to get out, yet I still struggle to sing “Happy Birthday” at family parties.
I’m slowly trying to make progress with focusing less on who may or may not be watching me. Lately, when a Kendrick Lamar or Meghan Thee Stallion song comes on while driving, I’ll start seat dancing and attempting to rap. (I swear, in either a previous or future life I was or will be a hip hop artist.) When I’m feeling really wild, I’ll continue my performance at red lights or stop signs, but typically, it looks a lot like this.
When writing, I feel more confident and expressive. Words and thoughts (and apparently jokes in my preteen years) come to mind easily. Writing lets me get a glimpse of the less guarded side of my personality. Hopefully, with more time, I’ll learn to share it more often off the page, too.