Four People? Two People Too Many

So a friend of mine from The Program suggested that SuperK and I join his wife and him for dinner.  I know SuperK would like us to have a more active couple-to-couple social life so I agreed to the plan, some vague misgivings hanging, fog-like, in the back of my head.  Now I really like this guy - he's kind of a weirdo, a hydrological engineer who just opened a guitar repair and sales shop - and I enjoyed talking to his wife the one time I met her.  They're transplanted Canadians who are somewhat hilariously out of place in the glitz and glitter and speed of Vacation Town.  

And SuperK is right at the top of my list.

The problem with me - among a seemingly endless list of problems - is that I'm wary of the multiple-person social dynamic.  I'm really cool one on one.  There's a modicum of control in that scenario.  With four people - especially people who have just met - there's too many people. I don't know any other way to say that.  You know the vibe - you talk then you talk then I talk then someone asks a question and then the conversation veers off on a new track.  It seems so aimless and pointless to me.  I don't really care what you do for a living and I fail to see why anyone cares what I did.  I realize that there are many of us who enjoy this scenario.  I'm not one of them.

Here's an example: I'm invariably asked what kind of job I had.  I've toyed with ways to make "I sold instrumentation to heavy manufacturing in either process control or predictive maintenance applications" more palatable.  I've tinkered with ways to simplify this absurdity: "I was involved in thermal imaging."  A few times I made an elemental response: "I helped people find something that was going to break before it actually broke."  Nothing.  Bupkus.  Blank stares.  I've never been asked a follow-up question, ever.  I've even started to say: "It's OK - no one knows what that is."  I'm thinking of making a laminated badge that reads: "Please don't ask me what kind of work I do" and wearing it around my neck, affixed with a piece of cheap string.  If someone starts to broach the subject I could just point at the badge.

I really should go back to saying that I'm an illustrator or an animator or a Best Boy Grip.  I could amuse myself by making up a preposterous string of bullshit trying to explain what those jobs entail.  I think if someone knows I'm lying they'd find the explanation more fun that the instrumentation angle.

I also don't find all that many people very interesting.  I'm not saying I'm all that interesting but I don't want to sit around a table and hear the excruciating minutiae of someone's life.  That's one of the benefits of getting older - you don't have to make an effort any more.  You don't have to pretend you're interested.  I don't why this sounds so shocking to me.  I don't care if you don't find me interesting.  The fuck do I care what you think of me?  Go talk to someone else.  I'm fine here, silently judging everyone that I can see.  It's enjoyable.  What you did for work is NOT enjoyable - it's a random fact bouncing around an uncaring universe, striking me like the trillions of photons bombarding my face as I sit here.

So . . . you see the problem.  My wife - a normal human woman in all regards, especially when it comes to the caring what other people think of her regard - is not pleased with me when I behave this way.  Last night I behaved pretty well with our dinner mates but apparently said something to SuperK that offended her.  I have only the vaguest memory of this and I certainly meant no harm when I said it, but I'm still in the shit house over it.

I'm mulling over, this morning, whether I should bring this up as a topic or whether I should let it pass of it's own accord.  I am, of course, way out there in the unreasonable response arena, wondering why I'm coming up with these activities that I don't enjoy while simultaneously annoying my spouse.  My unreasonable response at the moment is that I'm not going to arrange these get-togethers any more - let her come up with something if she wants to do something social.  Why is it me doing the Event Planning - which would be an excellent fake career to have - when I don't enjoy it and when it angers my wife?