Cliques and Such

Cliques can sometimes be inevitable, even if people are consciously trying not to exclude others.  People tend to gravitate to a group with similar experiences or interests.  Take for example, our small group of Filipinos in a sleepy small town in Southern Texas.  I can name the 20 filipinos that live in that town because we would congregate and celebrate any occasion possible, just to find an excuse of eating pansit and lumpia. 



The only single guy in that group, I always tried to blend in and mingled with everybody.  But I have realized that I do not do well in big group gatherings.  My limit would be five.  Anything more that that, I would fill, semi-out of place.  But really, it was not their fault.  It was my choice.  So I would play with the kids and I would become the baby sitter of the group.  I did not mind, though.  I liked playing with kids.  However, now that kids have grown and they are at the age where they would rather talk to the wall than to a person, I am stuck between telenovela-watching adults and adolescents that will stare you down to death. 

So what I would do was to just flutter around every little cliques and make temporary conversations and then move on to the next group once the subject had been exhausted and I start getting bored. 



What I noticed was, as per usual, guys would group together and would either talk about Sports or beer and if you were Filipino, Manny Pacquiao or politics-two topics that I would shut down once the box was opened.  The female group on the other hand, would talk about house hacks or TV programs I probably could not relate to because it will be about The Bachelor, or who had an amnesia in the most talked about soap opera.

Out of politeness, I will nod and smile and I was done. 



When I was young, I tried to join the Altar Servers group, which was the most Catholic thing a boy could do.  I was encouraged by the elders of the church since I liked going to mass as a hobby, and they thought, to the best of their judgement, that I needed to broaden my social Catholic life.  To be honest, I was fine going to church with my grandma.  I did not need socializing.  I thought receiving the communion was social enough for me.  But to please the elders, I attended the orientation meeting for the Altar Servers.    And just to validate my concerns, I was right.  I did not need to be in a group of boys who were totally out of sync of my comfort zone.  I never felt so out of place in my life I wanted the meeting to end as soon as the presider said, good morning. 

The adviser of the group, bless his heart, tried his best to hype the excitement of the boys which did not nothing for me except to make me unjoin the group.  He talked about going swimming at the river, organizing basketball tournaments, sports-related shit that by the time the meeting ended I felt my testosterone level could produce triplets with one ejaculation.  The funny thing about the adviser was the fact that he did not look the part- a sporty dad.  He was so frail and lanky, and you could tell that he would collapse in exhaustion just by blowing his whistle.  Bless his heart again. 



My sponsor for the event was a guy named James, not his real name by the way, I’d call him that way for convenience.  Anyway, he wanted me to love the group that I felt bad for him so I just smiled along the way.  Although kudos to me, I at least tried liking it to the very best of my strength. 

Anytime the adviser would present a new idea or activity, James would nudge me at my side to emphasize how fun it would be to join the group and I would just smile again so that I would not offend him.  At the end of the meeting, he asked me what I thought.  And I said, in my most fake un-Catholic tone, “sounds fun.” 

He made me promise to attend the next meeting. 

Unfortunately, I felt bad for him.  Me, the nice person that I was, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings, I attended the follow up meeting. 

By that time, instead of feeling out of place, I felt bored.  The numbness of my disinterest was so overwhelming that it overrode my niceness and started to "mentally" shove paper crumbles into anyone who would start to talk and prolong the meeting.  And I then decided I would not show up at church for the next few months to avoid the boys of the group.  I never liked them anyway.  Nobody talked to me except for James.  I did not feel welcome, maybe my face showed how disinterested I was. 

I was so glad that cellphones were not a thing at that time otherwise James would have bugged me why I did not come back. 

I tried avoiding him at school so he could not corner me and force me to join again out of guilt because knowing myself, I would.



I lost touch with James in the years that followed.  Last time I heard, he ended up being a politician and eventually a high-ranking government official.   I did not bother reaching out to him as he may not remeber me because i am just a vague memory of his past, but I really appreciate his eagerness to make me feel welcomed and be part of the group, eventhough it was not my clique.



As for me, I learned how to fake my way out of boring conversations.  I think that’s how the human psche works.  Eventually, I get used to it with  practice.  And 10% of the time, I will get lucky to bump into someone who has the same wavelenth as mine.  

I seldom find people with the same interests as I do because mine are all eclectic and weird.  So it is always a nice surprise to belong in an actual group that spark with my personality, even for that brief period of stranger encounter. 


I think eventually, with practice, one will  acquire the skill of finding something interesting in the most minute detail of a boring conversation and expound on it.  Because I did find it myself.  Well, as long as it is not about politics, telenovelas, and Manny Pacquiao.  

April 15, 2020