Untuckit 35

A Social Distance Fairy Tale

William was single and in his mid-thirties. He had recently moved to a new town and worked out of his apartment as a freelance graphic designer. Most of his close friends were drifting away due to marriages and relationships, children being born and raised, and escalating job pressures. He was not particularly tight with his family.

As a result of this confluence of non-connection, William was lonely. So when he heard that a nearby community center hosted a “Saturday Night Social” each week, he summoned his courage, shoved aside his natural shyness, bought some new denim jeans and a matching Untuckit shirt to wear, and went to the party.

The community center was a large, rectangular building. The exterior walls were painted dark blue, while the entrance doors were a shade lighter. Once he pushed through them, he was greeted by a woman of around his age.

She looked him over for a moment before speaking.

“Is that an Untuckit shirt?”

William blushed.

“Yes. I just bought it.”

“Nice. Looks natural. Like you meant to have it hang over your belt.”

“Thanks. I guess that’s the concept.”

“I suppose you’re right. Are you here for the social?”

William nodded.

“Good. So let’s get you started.”

William now noticed she was holding a clipboard. She snatched a pen from behind her ear and started asking him questions in rapid fire.

“Name? Last first.”

He gave it.

“Job?”

He told her.

“Relationship status?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you single? Dating? Married? Divorced?”

“Why do you need to know that?”

She lowered her clipboard.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But you can only come in if you answer all the questions. That’s our policy.”

William looked over her shoulder. There was one more set of doors past the lobby. Inside, he saw, was packed with people.

“Single.”

“Dating?”

“Not right now.”

“Age?”

“35.”

“One more. Do you have a preferred nickname? If no, we can assign you one.”

“I don’t understand?”

“You have to go by a nickname once inside. That’s policy as well.”

“Some people I know call me Will.”

“I’m afraid that’s too close to your real name. And it’s only four letters. Your preferred nickname must have at least six letters. Also, it’s best if you include either a number or a grammar mark, like an exclamation point.

“You’re kidding?”

She started to look frustrated.

“I’m going to go ahead and give you one.” She looked down at the clipboard. “How does ‘Untuckit 35’ sound?”

“Weird.”

“But can you live with it?

“I guess.”

“Perfect. Once inside, anyone asks you, that’s the name you give.”

“So we’re done?”

She didn’t answer, already looking past him, to a couple coming through the doors. He took it as a cue to move on and went inside.

William was surprised by how loud the room was, but also how disconnected was the noise from all the disparate talking going on. The space was open and without walls, but people were settled more or less in defined groups. In the larger groups, he noticed, one person stood in the middle, encircled by others, sometimes two to three rows deep.

He weaved through the room, listening and seeing where he might make an introduction or find an opening to join. Finally, he came upon a group of five people — two women and three men — who seemed more approachable.

“Hello,” he said. “Mind if I join?”

“Of course you can,” said one of the women, stepping out of the group to meet him. “What’s your name?”

William remembered the policy.

“Untuckit 35.”

“Ah…your shirt,” she returned with a wink. “And I bet your age. Easy to figure out.”

“It was assigned to me.”

She paused for a moment.

“Just to let you know, we’re only talking about birds of prey this evening.”

“Excuse me?”

She extended her arms and moved her body as if soaring.

“You know, hawks, eagles falcons. That’s our connecting conversation. We were just discussing the Northern Shrike. It’s nickname is the “Butcher Bird” because it impales its catch on spiky plants or barbered wire fences.”

“Ouch.”

When she didn’t laugh, William continued.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really know much about birds, except that I hate pigeons.”

She lowered her arms and chewed on her upper lip.

“Well,” she finally said, “maybe there’s an anti-pigeon talk going on elsewhere. You never know. It does take all kinds. Good luck.”

She returned to her group and William, starting to feel uncomfortable, continued on.

But he didn’t have any more success in meeting people or making friends. In addition to most groups having a set criteria for discussion that excluded him, the few people he did manage to talk to seemed more intent to just tell him things, ticking off, as if reading a recording, what they liked to do, or what they have done, places they’ve visited, and where they would like to visit. One gentleman even provided a detailed description of his week’s meals, a daily breakdown of breakfast, lunch and dinner, including caloric content and flavor gradients.

It made William dizzy and disoriented and even more detached. A few times, he even felt defensive, as several individuals, standing on the fringes of a group, shouted out random accusations, implying the guilt of all for something that grieved them. Some held up elaborately-designed posters, giving image to their exhortations, or played music from portable boom boxes to dramatize the message.

Finally, his nerves frayed, William made a hasty exit.

“I hope you had a good time, Untuckit 35?” the woman greeter said as he sped past her in the lobby. “No need to check in next time. Easy entry.”

He pushed through the last set of doors and was outside.

It was a pleasant, clear night, and the moon was full and gave enough light for him to find a park bench in a pocket park a few blocks away. He sat and tried to calm his breathing. After a few moments, an elderly man, aided by a cane, strolled by with his dog on a leash.

He eyed William and smiled.

“Do you mind if I sit down with you? We always take our break here.”

William slid over to a side.

“Sure.”

The old man sat with a pleased grunt. The dog, a small poodle variety, settled down near his feet.”

“Nice evening. But they say it’s going to rain later. We could use it. The plants, that is. You garden?”

William was surprised by the question.

“No, I mean. I live in an apartment.”

“You have a balcony?”

“Yes, but it’s tiny.”

“Well, that’s room enough. If you get some sun, put some herbs in a planter. Or tomatoes or peppers in a few pots. It’s fun to watch them grow, and vegetables always taste better when you pick them yourself. Anyway, that’s one of my hobbies. Gardening.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It keeps me occupied. That and walking my friend here.”

They were silent a moment.

“Do you have any hobbies?” the old man broke the quiet. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

William lowered his head.

“Probably not enough. I mean, I should get some.”

“What do you like to do?”

“Normal things, I suppose.”

“Like what? I’m sorry to pry, but I enjoy learning about people. It’s another hobby, I imagine. Or maybe I’m just lonely.”

William’s throat suddenly constricted and his eyes watered. He felt embarrassed by the surge of emotion and wiped away the forming tears with the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, regaining his composure. “But I’m afraid you’ll find that I’m not that interesting.”

The old man reached over and playfully tapped William’s shoe with the end of his cane.

“Here’s a secret,” he said. “None of us are. But the key is to be interested. Not interesting.”

He slowly stood up from the bench.

“Anyway, time for us to keep going. We circle the park four times before calling it quits. Takes us an hour exactly. Thanks again for sharing the bench. And for the talk.”

“I didn’t say much.”

“I enjoyed it all the same.”

The old man cajoled the dog to stand up and together they started to move away.

William took in a breath and called out to him.

“Do you mind if I join you? I think a walk would be good for me.”

The old man turned and smiled.

“That would be nice. But I warn you, we move slow.”

William stood.

That’s fine. I’m in no hurry.” He paused. “By the way, what’s your dog’s name?”

The man told him.

And as they walked around the park, four times, they talked and laughed and somehow, without much effort, or any plan, started a friendship. And William did not feel as lonely as before.