Welcome to Getting Better! This is where I invite you to stop doom-scrolling, and to delight instead in a personal narrative essay. Then (and only then), get off your device and live your life. Subscribe for free weekly pieces or upgrade to support my work. So glad you’re here 🥰
My in-laws visited my husband (then boyfriend) and I when we lived in Berkeley, California 5 or so years ago and we went on a gorgeous hike in Marin one morning. As we’re approaching the top of a hill, a man appears at the crest and waves.
After a moment, to my horror, I realize he is waving at me.
I have no idea who this is and I panic as he commits to getting my attention with direct eye contact and a more enthusiastic arm wave. The space between us lessens far too quickly. I rack my brain, willing a connection between us to exist somewhere in the depths. Desperate for us to know each other. But I know we don’t.
But he knows we do.
And it turns out I’m his cousin. Or so he thinks (they must not be close).
Hi!! Wow, so funny to run into you here! How are you? Did you go to the reunion?
Naturally, rather than correct him with a kind, Oh I’m so sorry, you must be mistaking me for someone else! — like a sane person — I try my best to play the part. Hi wow yes I’m good how are YOU! After this moment — I must have gotten her voice wrong! — he realizes his mistake and uncertainly asks, OH! Wait… are you Amy?
So committed am I to this charade, that I now have to pretend to be confused, to discover together with him that I am not Amy.
OH! Wait… no! I’m Miriam!
Imagine our surprise and embarrassment.
He tells me I look exactly like Amy, and he turns to his companion for confirmation. Yes, you really do look just like her! she agrees.
I am mortified not to be Amy and, lacking any appropriate justification for my performance, try to use the same trick to get myself out of this. I tell him this is such a coincidence because he also looks just like someone I know — I could have sworn he was my friend’s boyfriend. I turn to my husband and say, Oh my God, this is so crazy, doesn’t he look just like Ben?? And my husband says No and I want a seagull to pick me up off the cliff and dump me into the ocean.
We awkwardly part ways, my in-laws catch up and ask who my friend was, my boyfriend just about pees himself laughing, and I vow never again.
I will choose honesty from this day forward.
5 years later, my baby and I are spending a lot of time at playgrounds. I make it a point to engage with other parents and kids, even when I’d rather not (often because I’m feeling self-conscious about my eczema). I want to gift my baby this gift of groundedness in community, even a semi-transient playground community.
So, over the months, I’ve collected a handful of potential mom-friends at these playgrounds. These are the moms I exchange numbers with, only for us to plan future playground play dates that never come to fruition because of different nap and/or activity schedules. Or the texts just peter out.
Last week, I brought my boy to a Baby & Me playgroup at our local library. One of my potential mom-friends is there — our texts petered out — sitting with two other moms. I’ll call her Andie. I give her a big smile when we walk in.
Either Andie genuinely does not recognize me or she chooses to pretend she doesn’t — both options make me feel wildly, surprisingly insecure. So rather than reintroduce myself, I avoid eye contact and any potential interaction with her, lest I feel humiliated all over again.
It’s worth noting that this playgroup is in a classroom-sized space and there are only about 10 of us moms (and one dad) present; it is not a space conducive to avoiding anyone. But I make it my mission.
Eventually — of course, the traitors — our two little boys gravitate toward one another, sealing the fate that I’ve been dodging for 20 long minutes.
And then Andie says it: OH! Have I met you at the playground before?
And I, with all my therapy and progress over these 5 years, proudly reply:
OH!
😂😂😂