Feeling awkward is something I rarely experience. I understand that sometimes in social situations there is an unspoken tension that exists that people are unwilling to discuss. Everyone knows it’s there but nobody wants to talk about it. It’s a circumstance that reminds me of the elephant in the room scenario. It may be that the reason why I rarely feel awkward is because I’m the one making others feel awkward. I haven’t decided if my lack of awkwardness is a gift or a missing part of me. I’m comfortable with it even if others are not. I don’t make it a practice to intentionally try to make others (except my kids) feel awkward or uncomfortable but I recognize that it happens. It may be that I made a hard choice that upset others as I went about executing my decision. In an effort to preserve an artificial atmosphere of decorum others may choose not to address it when circumstances bring us together.

None of this is to say that I have never felt awkward. Once I went to the doctor for an annual check up. Later in the week someone from the doctor’s office called me and explained that a trace amount of blood in my urine made it necessary for me to see an urologist. I went to this special kind of medical professional and was called back to the examining room by Nurse Betty. Nurse Betty was really her name but she looked nothing like Renee Zellweger. She did however bear a striking resemblance to Miss Trunchbull from the movie Madeline. In the examining room Nurse Betty aka Miss Trunchbull measured my vital signs, the usual stuff nurses do before the doctor comes into the room. Having completed her assigned duties flawlessly she then went to the sink and began washing her hands. With her back turned toward me as she washed her hands she instructed me to remove my “trousers” (her word) and my underwear and to then lie back on the examining table (like the ones at the OBGYN but without the stirrups) with my legs hanging over the edge. She went on to explain that before the doctor arrived she was going to wash my….uh, private parts. Suddenly I was feeling desperately awkward. As if reading my mind and in an effort to soothe my awkwardness she told me that she did this sort of thing all day. I explained to Nurse Betty that the last person to perform this task for me was my mother and that occurrence was in years past my ability to recollect. It really didn’t matter to me that she did this chore all day. Her little “I do this all day long” speech did nothing to relieve my awkwardness. I thought I was thankful when the doctor finally came into the room but he went on to painfully violate me in ways that would be unseemly for me to continue to relate.

I think I understand what awkwardness feels like. I don’t think I understand why people don’t address the awkwardness. It may just be old fashioned fear. Awkwardness may be a filter some people use as a decision making tool. “Will making this choice cause me to feel awkward later around others as I carry out my decision?”

My kids, especially my teenage daughters, tried to avoid bringing their friends to the house when I was home because I sometimes made their friends feel awkward. I think my girls may have felt a certain amount of awkwardness on behalf of their friends too. I didn’t mind asking their friends questions like, “Does your mom know you were dressed like that when you left your house today?” or “What were you thinking when you got that piercing?” Needless to say, I saw several young ladies once but rarely more than that. As I think about it, I realize that I used the awkwardness I knew they would feel by what I said as a platform to deliver my feedback regarding how they looked. Perhaps if I were prone to awkwardness I would not have given any indication that I even noticed how they looked.

I think it is fair to say that I manufacture much of the awkwardness that others around me feel. The person in charge around here is me. Sometimes I have to choose actions for some who are unable or unwilling to choose for themselves. If the choice I have to make profoundly affects others then I normally ask or say things like this: “Am I being unreasonable?” “Is there room for compromise?” “Let’s talk about this.” Give me a thread to hang on to. Give me the smallest reason to not do this. Give me something! I really don’t want to do this but I’m not afraid to pull the trigger because of an awkward feeling somebody may feel later. But what do I know, I’m just talking.