Making everybody mad at me, 2

OK, partly I borrowed the title from an unfinished post back in 2008. But also I'm starting to think that my social skills are failing me. (See also this post and this one, both from earlier in the year.)

Recently I visited Son 2 and Beryl, on the occasion of Son 2 getting his Master's degree. I allude to it briefly here, where I also mention that this was the first time since Son 2 graduated from high school eight years ago that all four of us—Son 2, Son 2, Wife, and I—were in the same place at the same time. So Son 2 insisted strictly on goof behavior from all of us. There was to be NO UNPLEASANTNESS, no matter what. It was a good rule, and I agreed with it.

Several times, Son 2 issued a warning on this point: all of them were when Son 1 made some kind of sarcastic remark about Wife (who lives with him). But only once did I see Son 1 and Son 2 mobilize in unison to shut someone down. And it was me. We were at a restaurant, and the waitress repeatedly misunderstood my order, besides assigning my order to Wife (who had ordered something totally different). I tried to clarify for what felt like the third time (though perhaps it was the fourth), and both boys stopped me short. It was time for me to keep silent and say nothing. And they both had a look and tone of utter seriousness. 

Well, I shut up and the order got straightened out. Dinner went on. But it made me think: Of all of the possible detonations in the minefield of our immediate family, the one that they are most worried about is Me Going Off about something. And it shook me. These days I don't think of myself as all that threatening. But maybe they remembered a time in the past, when I used to get much angrier. "As angry as Daddy," as the saying went.

That's one story.

This weekend I visited Mother. The two of us, together with Brother and SIL, went out to the Philharmonic. We met up there. Brother and SIL have a long-standing habit of showing up late to things, and Mother wanted to hear the talk that was given an hour before the show. At seven minutes before the talk, she told me we'd wait until five minutes before the talk, and then go in without them. Two minute later—at exactly five minutes before the talk—Brother and SIL showed up. I said, "Great timing!" in a congratulatory tone, and passed along Mother's plan as we all went in together. SIL did not speak to me the entire evening, and pointedly sat as far away from me as the seating arrangements would allow. We all went out to dinner together afterwards, and she still didn't speak to me. (And she sat diagonally across the table from me—again, at the farthest possible distance.) It was subtle, but also obvious for anyone who was watching for it. (I guess that means me.)

That's another story.

I guess I told a third story when I talked about my visit with Schmidt.

Maybe I'm being oversensitive, straining to find rejection and criticism where there is none, because it feeds my fantasies of being rejected. (See, e.g., here or here or here.)

Or maybe living alone so much has made me forget how to be around other people.