… actually, me wanting to leave was a slight exaggeration. Slight.

I went to dinner with some old friends. And the topics of conversation were: babies, pregnancy, babies, cravings, babies, schools, babies, milk, babies, obstetricians, babies, birth weight, and babies. Uncomfortable wasn’t the word- this wasn’t a case where I could fake it; I had nothing to refer to. I had nothing to say about something I had no experience in, no real interest in, and had no right for any opinions on anything.

It wasn’t a case of people growing apart- I’m sure that we still have things in common, and it was good to see them and if I have the chance to see them soon I will, but I’m not sure whether I can survive another night where I just sit there with absolutely nothing to say. Nothing to say.