There are some things in life which come very naturally to me.
If I’m walking down the street, and I see a Labrador looking up at me with his big brown eyes, before I’ve even thought about it I’m on the pavement asking, “Hello beautiful man, how are you today? What is your name? Are you going for a walk? Would you like a pat on the head?”
It’s second nature – as automatic as walking with your limbs swinging in opposite directions, or sneezing in an eerily quiet room.
Listen to the hosts of Mamamia Out Loud discuss Jessie’s etiquette issue.
But there is something that has never come naturally, and I’m beginning to realise it’s fairly substantial.
Last weekend, I attended an open house with my boyfriend. When I was greeted at the front door by the agent, I realised it was a friend I’d gone to school with. “Hello!” I exclaimed, “How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”
We spoke as she showed me through the apartment, and I asked lots of questions. The interaction probably lasted a total of 15 minutes.
As we left the apartment, and I was patting myself on the back for sustaining a conversation with a human I hadn’t seen in nearly a decade, my boyfriend said, “Hey… how come you didn’t introduce us?”
“It was a little bit awkward,” he continued. “I felt like we were both waiting to be introduced, and you just sort of… never did it.”
I obviously explained it was because I am both highly embarrassed and ashamed of him, and would prefer if we acted like strangers in public.
But that wasn’t actually the reason.
The truth was, at no point had introducing these two people to each other crossed my mind.
In my teens, I could get away with a level of social awkwardness and dismiss it as youthful ignorance. I was just lacking confidence. I didn’t know how to operate in an adult world. My mum and dad should have been there to prod me along and do all the hard work for me.