My friend Kristen and I made a pact at the beginning of 2010: This is the year we make contact. Contact with all possible contacts. It started literally with Kristen and I deciding to be more friends, basically acknowledging that there was more potential in our friendship and that we were not at our maximum contact capacity.
Three months later we're still contact committed. For me, the pact was an important one because historically I've been a big withholder (that's a memoir, not a blog post). So, 2010, just fuck it. Put it out there. Let go of the ego. Be embarrassed, humiliated, annoying, whatever.
I've made a handful of bold contacts and multiple minis. I can't really talk about Kristen's awesome maneuvers, because I am sworn to secrecy, but she's been contactarian for sure.
Below are a smattering of my contacts over the last few months:
I told the guy at the coffee shop that he was the spitting image of my late father when he was in his early-twenties. I think I went on a bit too long. I mentioned how handsome my father had been and how funny and smart and witty.... He looked at me with a semi-frightened smile and I think I heard him murmur, "Whatever, crazy cougar." Humiliating.
After teaching yoga to 27 students, most of whom I had just met, I told them all, "I love you." It's true. I told them that. And it's true that I felt that. I'm still wondering if that was too much contact. Embarrassing.
I got a bikini wax that was way more contact than I wanted. In so many ways. Annoying (her, not me).
And then, today I had an experience that I am still sorting out. In front of 60 kindergartners, for Young Writers Week at a local elementary school, I talked about my experience writing. I am having flashbacks every five minutes about my ridiculously inappropriate disclosures in front of this surprisingly difficult audience. I talked about how how writing clears my mind. I said writing was a practice just like yoga or playing an instrument. I told them that writing was like having a friend all the time because it was kind of like talking to someone else about your deep thoughts and big feelings. I said these things to a group of people, who, when asked the definition of a blog said, "Logging off" and then, when prompted again replied, "Logging on." We agreed that Log and Blog rhymed and that was that.
2010- The year we make contact. Humiliation. Embarrassment. Annoyance. I think I like it. Actually, I think I love it.