I am not the most adept at social situations.

In fact, if I don't know you, I'm not likely to even be 'there'.

I might be physically present, but I'll be studying an unusual lamp or staring at people's shoes.

It's when I get to know you that the trouble starts.

Any stray bit of conversation can set me off on a tangent, ranging from the familiar, indicating that both you and I know what I think I am talking about, to the esoteric, including the complete history of the word and the attitudes that led to the very concept of the idea that you mentioned and I am verbally composing an encyclopedia entry on.

If I am allowed to continue long enough, I will exhaust my memory and begin to either extrapolate or make stuff up.

I have no problem ignoring the embarrassed silence that surrounds me, because I am not aware of it until at least fifteen minutes or two days later.

So don't try logic. Don't try to debate me. Either wait me out, trying to remember where you put your car keys, or walk away.

I will most likely continue without you, spreading my attention to any other nearby humans in my oral fugue.

I have learned to control this a bit over time, but I'm afraid that I like the sound of my own voice as it resonates in my head just a bit too much.

Keeping it to myself is almost impossible. My voice doesn't sound near as good in my mind as it does with bodies in a room.

The truly sad thing about all this is that 60% of the time I really do know what I am talking about. Unfortunately, neither you nor I might be able to tell it at the time because the natural tendency when caught in a downpour is to run for shelter or open an umbrella, instead of examining the individual drops...