I could tell by the way they were talking that they were talking about me. I shouted from across the table, "Are you talking about me?" (I say this more often than I care to admit.)
Later on, walking out the door with one of them, she said, "We were saying how we have to rescue you from the boring end of the table."
On my end, I was explaining how I couldn't stay for dinner because I wanted to go home and watch The Mary Tyler Moore Show instead, which is probably pretty rude and I didn't mean it like that, just that I was tired, but I'm kind of okay with however they took it, and besides, that set off a whole discussion about good-ole-day television. I'm working on starting conversations, rather than ending them, and now I just have to figure out how to hold one.
It's like tennis, which I was never any good at despite the private lessons. If I didn't miss the ball entirely, I put all my energy into sending it outside the designated play area. I could never get the hang of that gentle volley, not too aggressive, not too weak, just a nice, steady back-and-forth, but I'm working on it.