The first book club I went to was in December. I hadn’t ever been before and, while I had met most of these women once, I was a little intimidated. It’s interesting how our insecurities play out in our head. These women are amazing. I read their blogs and just think, “Wow, I wish I was that crafty,” or “If only I could write stories in such a captivating way,” or “How would it be to take such great pictures?”
Another thing with reading about someone on a blog before you really get to know them is that you forget that these are real women who have real flaws (I’m sure) and real insecurities of their own. I often find myself thinking, “Why would these women want to be friends with me? Obviously their lives are amazing and fulfilling already. What could I possibly add?” I sure love being female and forever aware of what people are thinking about me (or what I think they are thinking about me)!
Even though I had been once, and I was really excited for last night (so excited that I went even though I hadn’t finished The Thirteenth Tale which, thankfully, is so very complicated, in a good way, that the evening didn’t completely ruin the book for me), that excitement had not alleviated the apprehension that I still felt about how amazing these women are. And then, the most minor thing happened when I walked in the door. One of these wonderful women turned to me and said, “Oh, you’re here on time. I thought you said you were going to be late.” This one interaction made me feel like I belonged. It meant that, when I sent a response to the email about book club, saying I would likely be late due to a prior engagement, this woman had paid attention and cared and remembered.