Cold hard truth: Boring people exist.
Another cold hard truth: You can't avoid them. No matter how hard you try.
I was lucky for a while. My weird parents ("We are not weird!" my mother's voice shrieks in my head) always had interesting friends for the most part. I grew up as a weird child, and naturally that attracts some unique individuals who are either drawn to you or vice versa. I was involved in theater from a young age, so I constantly had a healthy dose of "colorful" people in my life. This is where I first encountered homeschoolers. Enough said.
It wasn't until high school that my eyes were opened, and what stood before me was a being unlike any I had ever seen before. A boring person. A Beige* if you will. Beige's are sneaky. They don't talk much, so you think they're all shy at first, so you make it a point to get to know them. It's a trap, don't do it! They lure you in on the pretense of mystery, then once the door has shut, you realize that they just don't have anything to say about anything. At all. Mystery solved, and you are the winner of a Beige friend.
I had a Beige friend in high school that my mom made me hang out with, and for a while, things weren't so bad. She laughed at everything I had to say. She never disagreed with me. We never argued! Then one day, as I finished telling her an apparently hilarious story, I looked up and saw her laughing with the blankest look on her face and it hit me: she's a Beige. Well, I didn't say that in my head. I just came up with that term all of 10 minutes ago. Focus, people. What I did say to myself was, "OH MY GOD SHE'S BORING. SHE'S SO BORING. RUN. RUN NOW BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE." Sadly, I was in class, so I had to continue sitting there, but everything had changed. It all became so clear. We had never had an actual conversation, just monologues, she had no personal opinions about anything which made it hard to disagree on issues, and even though I love people laughing at my witty repartee, I am aware that not everything I have to say are gems. Just ask my boss.
Even worse is when you realize that adults you have known for some time are also boring. That hurts, man. I was raised to respect adults in my life, and it is SO HARD to do so when you have a frozen look of horror mixed with pity on your face as they tell you the most mundane story EVER.** Their houses smell of canned green beans and defeat. You want to save their children from their own boring fate, but it's too late. They're already staring at walls with adoration in their eyes. "How do I get to that state?"
Thankfully, I know very few Beige's, but it feels like a lot when you have constant contact with them. I once experienced a grouping of them in a bar, it was pathetic. They all just sat around and waited for someone to begin a topic of conversation. Oh, and it was St. Patrick's Day. Yes, Anna Lisa, I'm talking about your friends. The effect was overwhelming. Too many Beige's in one room and I start to have a panic attack.
As fun-sucking as they are, boring people were put on this earth for a reason. Someone needs to work complacently in cubicles. That's the only reason I could think of. What did the cavemen do with Beige's? Use them as bait to lure animals out of hiding? They probably just remained in the caves inventing math. I do know that this is not chronologically correct, that math was probably invented by brighter versions of humans, but I didn't say that I was a genius. Just ask my mom. All I have to say is this: I may be a little slow, but at least I'm not boring.
*FYI I'm calling boring people Beige's from now on. Spread the word, it will catch on, but you must credit me with the coining of the name.
**These stories are not to be confused with animal stories. Although not great conversation on say, a first date, they are still kind of awesome to hear unless the teller of the story refers to said animal as "My furbaby." Even if this phrase is uttered, it is still not a boring story. Just pure craziness. And still better than a boring story.
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