When I am in crowded situations, such a restaurants, meetings, or receptions, there's a safe place for me--the corner.
I'm not sure how or why I decided that was safe, because I'm not a "goodfella" waiting for a mob hit, but it is what it is.
I could speculate. If I'm in the corner, here's what I avoid:
- Surprises. I will see everyone and everything and be prepared, thus preventing awkward social situations.
- Physical contact from strangers and people I don't see coming. No chair bumping, nobody sneaking up on me, and above all, nobody putting their hands on my shoulders while they speak to the rest of the table. Aaack!
- Missing something. From the corner, I can see the world but not be involved in it--people watching!
But here's the thing. I put myself in the corner, and the goal there is to blend in, to "wallflower" (if John Langan says it's a verb, it's a verb), to NOT interact. And it's MY choice.
It's not okay for me to be put in the corner, either literally or metaphorically. If I choose to be involved, to interact, then let me. It means that I've decided you're important enough to me for me to come out of my comfort zone. It means that I think you're worth it. Sometimes I'm in the mood to make connections, to engage. And if my wings are fluttering and you try to shove me back in the corner, it's going to hurt me. My wings are fragile.
So here's the thing. My wings are a little bent out of shape right now. I was fluttering along, in my own space, I might add, then rudely swatted back into my corner. Yeah, that's right. The one I no longer want to be in. The one from which I can only talk to and interact with certain people. The one that hides me from really being involved in the party. The one in which I am NOT comfortable anymore.
I am more than someone to carry your watermelon.
I am more than a stand-in dance partner.
I am more than a scared girl afraid to speak her mind and who is afraid of what people think.
I am more than someone who is always there for everyone else when it suits but who has no say in how her life plays out.
I am the girl who hopes the Dirty Dancing references are clear here, or all is lost.
I know, real people aren't Patrick Swayze, and nobody learns how to dance that fast. But Baby still wants out of the corner. And I'm an angry butterfly.