The fine art of social avoidance

Cold winters can make early mornings painful, but lately I've had good reason to get up an entire 15 minutes earlier than required -- to avoid people I know and like.

While the 7:00 a.m. bus is a blissful sea of anonymity, the 7:15 is a veritable who's who of my social sphere, with colleagues, friends, and neighbours co-mingling in an awkward mix of early morning forced politesse.

The false enthusiasm required is enough to make me shave a few precious snooze button cycles from my morning routine.

It's become such a habit for me to avoid people, even those I genuinely like, that I wonder if I'm socially retarded.

I asked one of my roommates if she does anything similar, and, without skipping a beat, she was like, "Oh you mean my angry face." She immediately demonstrated the facial expression she uses whenever she needs alone time -- furrowed brow, sunken cheeks and eyes squinting downward about six feet ahead.

She explained it's enough vision to see where she's going but not enough to allow for eye contact.

My girlfriend uses a pair of massive headphones to avoid the pain of social contact, or barring that, she has well-rehearsed bag-rummaging techniques that shield her face from friendly eyes. If she's still spotted, acting dazed and confused usually gets her off the hook.

A more famous example occurs in that Seinfeld episode where George Costanza wears an annoyed look on his face to look busy at work. In fact I think it earns him some time off when his boss begins to fear for his mental health.

Goths are an entire subculture with an ethos of social avoidance.

The chorus of an old Ministry song from the '80s, Everyday is Halloween, captures the attitude: "I dress this way, just to keep them at bay."

Granted, investing in an all-black wardrobe isn't for everyone, but the sentiment is something we all share from time to time.

It's like the aquariums at pet stores: the poisonous fishes are usually the most bright and elaborate. They're like the punk rockers of the fish world, letting other fishes know to stay away with big mohawks and plaid pants.

If I do it, friends do it, goths do it and fishes do it, I can only conclude that avoiding people we know is commonplace. The question is, why all the games? Our occasionally antisocial tendencies must be compensating for some deeper insecurity.

The answer struck me this week when my boss came to work with his two young children. Each had firmly attached themselves to one of his legs so as to avoid all the enquiring eyes around the office.

We all wanted to meet them, but the kids were having none of it. Despite our pleading, they wouldn't budge, so my boss eventually just walked to his office with his children attached to his legs.

Maybe that childhood insecurity never really goes away. As adults, we don't have our parents' legs to hide behind when we feel vulnerable, but instead we have iPods, newspapers and clothing appropriate for funerals. And of course an early bus route.

Rob Peters