Ananda

At a social event or a meeting or anyplace where you’re surrounded by new people, you are often called upon to say a few things about yourself. There are a few rules, unspoken but understood, about what you say in these moments. You have to say something—you can’t sit there silently while people stare at you. But you have to keep it short and sweet and not ramble on about yourself for years. For reasons unknown, the rule of thumb seems to revolve around the number three: Everyone says three things about themselves. Simple facts, nothing too controversial or personal, and nothing that demands followup questions. Most people choose age, name, one innocuous hobby. These are all solid pieces of factual information to reveal to a room of strangers.

But what if you’re in an environment where everyone already knows your name and age? Then does everyone just blurt out a single fact and be done with it? No, the magical number three still wields its magical influence over the process, so you have to come up with new information. Let’s say, TOTALLY HYPOTHETICALLY, I DON’T KNOW WHY IT WOULD BE IN A DIARY ENTRY ABOUT SOMEONE’S PERSONAL EXPERIENCES, that you are attending a meeting for a school activity, where everyone is basically the same age and already knows everyone else’s name. And let’s JUST SAY that even under the best of circumstances, you have a hard time coming up with a third fact about yourself. As everyone’s going around a circle talking about…probably their three nonthreatening hobbies? You have no idea, because you would not have heard anyone, being too busy racking your brains for stuff to say when your turn comes up.

You run through a list of questions in your head: Are you married? Do you have kids? No, you might respond. I’m a 16-year-old who spends the majority of her time surfing the web.

Any interests? Again, the web. Also, attractive guys, attractive girls, shoes. I also collect notebooks. None of this seems appropriate to announce to this room.

“Tell us about yourself,” someone says, and this time they’re looking right at you. You get up to speak, and you freeze. Everyone stares. You break into a sweat. They are still staring, waiting. What do you say?

Well, it just turns out that this exact scenario happened to me this week. How I handled it was first to inwardly cringe for the longest three seconds of my life, then to blurt out: “Superman!”

Everyone kept looking at me, but with puzzled expressions now. Uh-oh, I thought. They need to me to explain. “Uh, I’m kind of obsessive with Superman and that comic book world, and…” Time for fact number two: “I’ve practiced yoga for nine years, and…” Nothing else was coming to me. I panicked, scanning the contents of my mind for what else might be currently important to me. What do I care about? Then this came out of my mouth: “I write for an online magazine.”

Then I sat back down as fast as I could. ♦