The Lunch Bunch

In late November, Cindy invited me to join the Lunch Bunch, a group of ladies she knows, who meet once a week. She said they have a great time and promised I'd like them and get along just fine. In November, my timing to visit with them was off. The first opportunity I had to go they met at a seafood restaurant. Then, there was an emergency trip to Arizona. The next time I could make lunch, they were meeting at someone's home for a Christmas Party. I opted to wait until 2023. 

Today is the first lunch of the year. This week, I've done everything but collapse into a ball of mush over this. My social anxiety is through the roof. Cindy reached out yesterday, reminding me that TODAY'S the DAY!, which did nothing to quell my fright.  

All sorts of self-defeating thoughts have raced through my head in the past few days. What if I don't fit in? What if I say something stupid--well, let's just stop right there. I will say something stupid, my filter is defective. What if they don't like me? 

It really is difficult to be the new kid in a small Southern town. Plus, I have a bit of PTSD from my six weeks at the Ole Brokerage where a majority of the folks were nice to my face and nasty behind my back. 

I shared my concerns with Marty, who pointed out I generally do fine in these types of situations and I just need to get out of my head. I'm not sure how he measures "fine." However, he did suggest I look on their super-secret Facebook group I'm now part of, just to see if I knew anyone other than Cindy. 

It turns out, I spent last Saturday night--New Year's--with 90 percent of the folks in the Lunch Bunch. Most of them are Coronas! Same women, different social event, with a few other women sprinkled in. 

Okay. I think I will be fine. 

I hope. 

As long as I don't say something completely stupid. 

But for the record. I'm still nervous.