So I challenge you, knowing me, to think of the answer to this riddle:

What is one of the most difficult things for me in terms of connecting with (men) here in Madrid?

There are a number of good answers. And I’m interested to hear what you would answer for me. But I have one that I run into surprisingly often, beyond the simple problem of language: I don’t like football. (Which is to say, soccer.) It’s this gigantic field of conversation that I’m entirely cut off from — I don’t know the players, nor the teams, nor who’s good nor who’s bad. I don’t really care for watching it. I don’t really enjoy the culture. I remember reading, in an NYT Magazine article about people with Williams Syndrome, about how some woman with the disorder had learned all about a sport so she could discuss it with people. I’m not there, where I need or want to do that. I never will be. But I do recognize that I miss out on something because I’m not into it. I would probably be able to make friends with dudes a lot more easily on the basis of this alone — it’s just something that’s easy to bring up. Bonding over a love for weird movies is a lot harder.

(The quote from the Dobbs article is from a part where one of the women’s mothers is talking: “Nicki has always especially loved to talk to men. And in the last few years, by chance, she figured out how to do it. She reads the sports section in the paper, and she watches baseball and football on TV, and she has learned enough about this stuff that she can talk to any man about what the 49ers or the Giants are up to. My husband gets annoyed when I say this, but I don’t mean it badly: men typically have that superficial kind of conversation, you know — weather and sports. And Nicki can do it. She knows what team won last night and where the standings are. It’s only so deep. But she can do it. And she can talk a good long while with most men about it.”)

Which is, fine, a weird comparison to make, perhaps. But I think it’s also an interesting one, because it hits on the necessity to immediately come upon a conversation topic with someone when you’re not literally forced into each other’s company. Football is loads more simple than film, music, or . . . I dunno. What would I want to talk about, anyway? Maybe seven or eight years ago I had this supremely uncomfortable conversation with a friend, wherein I first really recognized that I was missing out on something by not caring about sports — that by not being interested, I missed out on this superficial level of communication that somehow walks the line towards meaningful, despite its mass appeal. To be fair, I get the same problems with not being interested in television — that just comes up more rarely here. It’s a lot easier when you’re working together with someone, or traveling — but a lot more difficult when you’re not terribly extroverted, nor can you easily hit upon a topic on which to connect. (Another good one, according to some social psychology studies, is agreeing on something you dislike. I like this fact.)

Relatedly, I’ve been climbing about once a week, every Thursday. And I have yet to really talk to anyone at the climbing gym. Climbers are notoriously friendly, and so I find myself wondering whether I’m unapproachable-looking. I also think that sooner or later I’m going to have to be un-shy. Shyness is a personal trait that also fits into this conversation, as seems clear. Especially since at a climbing gym, say, football is a lot less likely to come up than at a traditional exercise gymnasium. Much more likely to talk about random shit, or about climbing in general. I’d doubtless have spoken to people before, even given my being shy, but for the fact that I’m also nervous about my Spanish, and have trouble getting a read on people’s relationships. At climbing gyms, people tend to say hi to people they only vaguely know — in the gyms I’ve been to in the States, I’ve always ended up knowing random people.

For example, I see a few of the same men every time I’m at the gym. We’ve even started to say hello. But I can’t bring myself to say more than that one word to them. It doesn’t help that they’re better climbers than me — I really should be going in twice a week if I want to get better — but obviously that doesn’t matter so much. It’s not even that hard. It’s just that recurring reminder of my not being able to be friendly. I’ll overcome it. Or not. I know what to do. I just need to actually do it.

The weird part is that it’s not really fear of rejection. Anyone I have talked to, however briefly, has been friendly. There’s just some invisible barrier that’s unbreachable. We’ll see.