Mr. Rilch and I were invited to a party this aft, at a producer’s house. We were told ahead of time that there was a pool, so I shaved everywhere I might offend and set off with my stars-n-stripes bikini wrapped in a towel.
We got there to find everyone fully clothed, chatting and drinking beer. “Yeah, people will go in the pool after the meal.” So after I’d eaten, I changed in the powder room, thinking the people with visible swimsuits under their clothes were about to converge on the pool.
See, the thing is, I’m kind of self-conscious about swimming. I learned very late, and I still have no style. I thought I’d be okay if there were other people in there, but everyone else was still sitting around.
“I didn’t put this thing on for nothing,” I decided. As self-conscious as I am in water, I’m even more so about hanging around in a dry bikini, like a poser. So I walked down the steps and stood in four feet.
“I feel like a fool,” I muttered. No one was really looking, but I couldn’t bring myself to do my drowning-cockroach impression all alone. I walked around for a while, hoping to work up the courage, but finally got back out again and reclaimed my towel.
“I’m going to stick my feet in,” declared Mr. Rilch, and did so.
“Why don’t you get in?”
“I didn’t bring a suit.”
Sigh. I did more walking around, but that was all. “I’m a big wuss,” I explained. “You know I can’t swim very well.”
“Well, are you going to get better if you don’t practice?”
“No…but I don’t want to put on a show for everyone!”
Finally, the hosts’ teenage kids and some of the guests appeared. There was a lot of diving and hand-standing on the bottom, but even with this as cover, I still couldn’t get off the dime. “All right, I’m getting out…No, I’ll give it a shot…Oh, I can’t…All right…Forget it: I’m just going to do approach-avoidance until it’s time to leave.”
This continued for a few minutes, until a guest’s two-year-old son was brought out, wearing beach jams and flotation devices. Now he didn’t even want to get in. His dad and another guest kept coaching him, but he would only get as far as dipping in a toe.
“I have to be braver than a two-year-old,” I determined. When I’d gotten his attention, I ducked down and came back up with my hair purposely plastered over my face. “See?” I told him. “Even I can do it!”
“That’s right,” Mr. Rilch applauded me. “Now you’ve broken the seal!” And I had. I joined the crowd in the deep end, and no one seemed to mind. It wasn’t cold when I was moving around and other people were in there, so I frolicked with the best of them. Hooray for me! (Unfortunately, Benjamin was never coaxed in. Oh well.)