Shackles and Bad Coffee in Journal

Sums up my first experience of MOPS.
I showed up and the oppression of small talk began. No one asked an interesting question. No one wanted to reveal any fact or facet of themselves that might reveal they disagree with somebody. The horror. The slavery of trivial banter really gets me down.
I may in fact be allergic to it.
Halfway through the needlessly long meeting, I caught myself asking “why can’t I just be happy in social situations?” But, I realized it was a self blame part. It’s completely natural to be sad in an environment that is saddening.
The behavior of some of them was… Bad. Some of it was just aesthetically displeasing. Like a very overweight woman wearing a very low cut shirt. It’s uncomfortable talking to someone who’s boobs are more prominently displayed than the main dish. I always wonder what makes someone wear or choose a certain way to look. I wonder what others think of the way I look. I wonder what they think I am trying to communicate, or what I do communicate by my dress.
Probably thrift store shopper. Lol
But of course it’s highly offensive to ask. “Oh, hi. I noticed your boobs are out, was there any particular reason for that?”
And I’m not being facetious. I’m genuinely curious. She may not normally have chose that, but was rushed… Although I can’t imagine what would convince me to step outside with that much skin showing.
Still, I am left with a vague sense of discomfort, a sense of… I would not choose to associate with these people if I knew their values. And if course, neither would they associate with me.
Which leaves me in a dilemma, because my values are moral… I cannot give anyone the responsibility of the choice to reject moral values of they’ve never been exposed to them.
However, the shackles of small talk keeps all value discovery a secret, necessarily. I feel the need, a very real need, to know, to find out where you stand. Only when we connect in reality and share value can love exist.

Last updated October 23, 2021