Acting Down

How strange a threesome is. Any combination of three people, anywhere. I find it funny how the dynamic between any two friends can adjust, grow, show its face, hide its face badly, when another person is around. You can work yourself up to a certain point of understanding, maturity, open-mindedness perhaps, and when put in the spotlight in front of a third wheel, you feel the need to act up.

Or rather, down. I find it particularly interesting that there might be something inside people that makes them adjust to their friends agewise. Maybe you spend more time than normal talking about kissing and boys and kissing boys with your younger friends; maybe you remind yourself what books you read in college to talk to your older friends. All in a subconscious manner. Not premeditating or stalking. This is within the realm of mutual understanding. I am interested in what it takes to ‘click’. What people change in themselves, knowingly or not.

I have always had friends from multiple social circles, people who haven’t necessarily gotten on with each other, and have definitely experienced that uncomfortable birthday party at which I have to do all the entertaining in separate bouts, guilt-ridden and distracted because no one else would make the effort with each other. Thank god for grown-up land, in that respect. Yes, it may be that everyone I meet these days is ten years younger than me, and seemingly the only people older are sixty-odd, but I do appreciate being able to walk into work without looking at the rota and spending time accommodating the idea of whoever I’m scheduled on with, and not having that feeling rebuked at any point during the day but instead getting on with work in solitude and then turning around to find A, B, or C standing in front of me saying ‘Hello,’ and not feeling awkward at all. And before you try to dismiss this as my personal hang up, I am well aware I’m not the only one.

So, being an actress, I suppose, I consider my many facets, and how each one is received, and by whom. I wonder what to do with all this material. What I must come across as. Gasp… Surely not… My true, rounded, real, flawed and varying self? And if that’s what I’m discovering, what the hell do I do with that?

Next time I’m alone with two of my friends, I’ll be taking note of myself. I have no real thesis, or aim. But it’s something that’s pricked my ears recently.

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