I had a little epiphany last night. I LIKE going out and meeting friends.
I had truly forgotten that.
For the past year, I have been home almost every day. There were some weeks that I may have only left the house once or twice. Moving here, and not knowing anyone is truly horrible for me. And S. would never go out anywhere that didn't involve food, preferably fried, and even that was rare.
So I am not a total social butterfly, but being out last night for a book club made me feel happier than I have in a while. Since the first book club seems to be disbanding - several military moves - I was happy to see another member at the new one. And I have another fledgling book club meeting later this month. Things like this make me think that I just may be ok.
And now the snark.
I like books. I like people who like books. And I am not a total snob. HOWEVER, suggesting romance novels for a book club made me snicker, although inwardly so as not to be rude. Seriously, how much discussion about plot and foreshadowing are you gonna get out of any book with Fabio carrying a woman in a Victorian nightie on the cover?