I’m not funny
I am not funny. No really, this is not a bid for compliments. I know I’m not funny. I accept that. I might on occasion be witty or humorous, but generally speaking I am not funny.
I also do not have a smile on my face most of the time. It’s not that I am not happy, because I am for the most part. I just do not have the ability to keep grinning. When something in particular tickles my fancy, I grin, smile or laugh, as appropriate, but then it’s gone. It’s not a permanent fixture on my face.
I bring these things up because I often regret not have these two skills. And believe me they are powerful social skills. People who can make others laugh at will are very lucky. People who smile all of the time attract others with an ease to be envied. These people have gold.
If you tell someone "Go fuck yourself," while grinning from ear to ear, they think you’re kidding and you won’t get your block knocked off. When I say it, you know I hate your guts, because I’m not laughing. This does not help with my interpersonal relationships.
They say a smile requires the use of fewer muscles than a frown, but I don’t believe it. Smiling feels unnatural to me. I’ve stood in front of a mirror and practiced my smiling. My cheeks pouf up all round and my eyes get all squinchy and my jaw muscles hurt. I feel like the Joker from Batman.
Because of my lack of these abilities, I will forever be doomed to watching from the sidelines in social situations. I hate parties, unless I can sit in a corner and watch. I can’t live up to the pressure of being the center of attention. I can’t maintain the effort.