🗣️ From Zero to Embarrassing: My Attempt at Small Talk 🙈

I’ve always admired people who can make small talk—those magical unicorns who can walk into a room and just vibe with strangers. Me? I walk in and immediately start overthinking how to stand like a “normal” person.

So there I was, standing at a friend’s engagement party, drink in hand, socially spiraling. I didn’t know many people there, and my go-to survival tactic (hiding behind the snack table) wasn’t working—someone was already guarding the chips like it was a national treasure.

Suddenly, I made accidental eye contact with a guy standing nearby. He smiled politely. I panicked. My brain screamed, “Say something casual!” and what I blurted out was:

“So… do you believe in squirrels?”

What.
WHAT?

He blinked. “Uh… yeah? I’ve… seen them?”

Instead of stopping, my brain doubled down:

“I mean like, do you think they’re plotting something? They’re always watching.”

At this point, he was visibly trying to figure out if this was a joke or a sign of a deeper issue. I tried to backpedal.

“Haha, I’m just being quirky… you know… haha… nuts.”

Did I just end a sentence with “nuts”? Yes. Yes, I did.

He gave me a slow nod, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal, and mumbled something about refilling his drink. He never came back.

Strike one.

Later, I found myself next to a girl talking about travel. Easy enough, right?
She said, “I just got back from Italy.”
I said, “Nice! I love spaghetti.”
…Like I’d just discovered it.

She smiled. “Yeah, there’s more to Italy than spaghetti.”
To which I replied, “Totally. There’s also… pizza.”
Nailed it. Culturally enlightened.

Strike two.

As the night dragged on, I made one last brave attempt with a woman complimenting the music.
She said, “This DJ is great, right?”
I responded with:

“Absolutely. Music is like… sound, but emotional.”
Even I didn’t know what I meant. She just said “Wow” and turned away slowly.

Strike three. Socially benched.

Eventually, I retreated to my safe zone: hiding behind a large potted plant and pretending to text someone important. I ended the night watching the dance floor like David Attenborough narrating human mating rituals.

The next morning, I woke up with a hangover of cringe and a strong urge to Google “how to not ruin conversations in under 10 seconds.”

Moral of the story:
Small talk is an art.
And I am painting with crayons in the dark.

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