Crisps

Dear Lucy,

A few weeks ago, I found myself in a pub garden with a group of people I don’t know that well. A situation I generally avoid due to the anxieties it can evoke.  

On this occasion, it was crisps that kicked things off. Someone brought a couple of bags and laid them out on the table - display-style; the packet carefully split down the side, presenting the crisps for us all to enjoy. I inwardly groaned. Not only is there a risk of a noisy eater (Misophonia-alert), but there’s a risk I’ll not be able to curb my normal crisp-eating style. A style that never includes ‘sharing.’

Coal into a boiler

My normal crisp-eating style goes something like this: Decant crisps into a bowl, which is just me trying to convince myself I have some decorum. After one, maybe two single crisps, the rest would then be shovelled into my mouth much like coal into a boiler. A final tip of the bowl into my mouth ensures I miss not one crumb. And that’s just the first bag, or the first pour from a large bag which will be finished as surely as night follows day.

So, I steeled myself and took one crisp; a medium-sized one so as not to appear too greedy. I nibbled it like this is what I always do. “Oh yes, I just like to get a taste you know.” Ha. 

I wondered if people could see the crazed look in my eyes as I tried not to fall upon the bags and inhale their contents in one go.

Undignified

Despite 'grab-mode' being activated, I manage to control the energy surging through my hand by fiercely focusing on the space between me and the crisps, creating a sort of force-field that mustn’t be penetrated. I’m not sure I’d have been so successful had it been peanuts, but that’s another story.

I’m impressed by my control but there’s no joy here. Only sadness that the crisps that so desperately want to be in my tummy are just lying there, exposed on the table. So undignified.

Unfinished

Worse still, no-one will finish these bags of crisps. There will be no licking of fingers to collect all the bits or creating of funnels from the splayed packets for tipping into mouths. A bigger social faux-pas I cannot imagine. Those last stragglers, the delicious crumbs and the inevitable solitary crisp, will remain there until the end.

I turn my attention to the other people who are hesitantly over-selecting one crisp. I’ve never before seen body language conveying so much discomfort: “Oh go on then, just this once, but only if you’re absolutely sure it’s OK, I wouldn’t normally,” etc.

No-one eats crisps like this!

Their awkwardness betrays them and I realise, these perfectly polite people don’t eat crisps like this at home either!

I go around the table imagining each person’s private crisp-eating style. One person looks like they empty a 12-pack of crisps into a bowl and then stick their head in, eating their way through the crisps whilst still submerged. Another cuts a hole in the corner of a large bag, hoists them up above the sofa with a pulley system and releases them straight into their mouth. Genius.

This makes me feel better only for a moment because, the crisp-eating anxiety is only the tip of the iceberg. It has, until now, kept me from worrying about something far more dangerous; the words that will inevitably come fumbling from my mouth.

Let's do lunch! 

In these social situations, I seem to get hijacked by an evil gremlin that likes to chew through my ‘social behaviour’ programming and spit out the shredded wires with glee.

I become over-familiar, say anything to shock and entertain, clumsily interrupt and sometimes, my volume goes off the rails. On leaving - having waited possibly hours for just the right moment (another anxiety) - I make grandiose gestures of ‘lunch,’ kiss people goodbye I don’t know and completely ignore those that I do.

Today is no different. Honestly, it’s exhausting.

Emergency crisps

As soon as I leave, I grab the emergency bag of crisps (large, naturally) that have been waiting patiently in my bag. Safely on my own once again, all anxieties disappear. I take a lovely big breath and speed-eat them whilst walking. There’s a risk of one or two escaping during the frenzy but it’s OK, I had a couple earlier.

Photo by Esperanza Doronila Unsplash

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