waitlist tender_square he pulled away from the curb, driving them east toward home following her workday. “i got accepted into that skating class.” she was elated by the news. “that’s so great!” “i guess.” “why aren’t you more excited about being able to do something that you were looking forward to?” he had been fifth or sixth on the waitlist; it didn’t seem like he’d get into the class given the circumstances. he waited too long to call about placement, trying to secure lessons after buying his ice skates and not before. she’d been frustrated then, but kept it to herself; she didn’t want his lack of lessons to be an impediment, a reason for not moving forward with learning how to play hockey. “because things like that have a tendency to be weird.” “weird?” “you know, people in those situations can be weird.” she did not know what he meant. “weird how?” “just that they can be weird because it’s this forced group activity.” “yeah, but this isn’t an academic class, where you’re being partnered up for ridiculous group projects.” “if it was an academic class, it would be easier.” “i don’t understand what you mean. when you say ‘weird,’ it kind of makes me think that you’re saying it’s not a natural interaction because the cause for getting together has been constructed, it’s not coming about organically.” “yes.” “okay. but you can make the argument that anything that is constructed this way—a class, a party—will always have social weirdness in its very nature.” “that’s what i’m saying.” she shook her head. “well, of course it’s going to be awkward to start! but you’re all there for the same purpose, you’re all beginners; it will get easier.” “we’ll see.” 220222 what's it to you? who go blather from