Tweet Relief

Vodka Yonic features a rotating cast of women and nonbinary writers from around the world sharing stories that are alternately humorous, sobering, intellectual, erotic, religious or painfully personal. You never know what you’ll find in this column, but we hope this potent mix of stories encourages conversation.

I’ve struggled with social interactions for as long as I can remember. Before I was able to put a name to my experience — social anxiety — I would replay small gaffes in my mind on an endless loop; agonize over what to wear to social gatherings; wait until the third or fourth date to tell a guy I had two cats. I once swore off potlucks for several years after being ribbed by my co-workers for bringing my absolute favorite Thanksgiving dish, canned cranberry sauce, to the company party. When I finally got up the courage to make my next foray into potlucking, my crockpot was on the fritz, and by the time I made it to the party, everyone had already finished eating. I got out of there as quickly as I could, escaping to go sob — literally sob, like, “Should this woman be driving?” level waterworks — in my car. Maybe Thanksgiving just isn’t my holiday.

In spring of last year, when everything was locked down and we all had to stay in our homes to “flatten the curve,” I stumbled onto the Metro Nashville Network YouTube channel. Up to that point, I had essentially paid no attention to local politics. I had only voted in one local election, and I only knew one Metro councilmember (not even my Metro councilmember). So MNN — which covers such fascinating meetings as the Metro Stormwater Management Committee — was not a natural draw for me. But once I started digging in, it didn’t take long for me to get hooked. While everything happening around me felt so overwhelming and out of my control, these random local government meetings were … manageable. The low-stakes drama felt soothing, like something I could get my arms around. And the amount of content available is more than any one person could ever consume (though I am trying). They’ve got recordings of Metro Council meetings going back to 2010; you can watch people quibble over fence heights at Board of Zoning Appeals meetings as far back as early 2012; and you can get carried away in the epic, years-long War of the Horse-Drawn Carriages that’s played out at the Transportation Licensing Commission.

Because most of my friends are normal, sane human beings who choose to spend their free time not watching archived Metro Planning Commission meetings, I had trouble finding an outlet for my commentary on the various petty spats and power plays that had me so enthralled. Even my parents, who usually at least pretend to be interested in my latest obsessions, had trouble feigning attentiveness when I tried to explain the joy I get every time I see Councilmember Bob Mendes dunk on his colleague Steve Glover.

I needed some way to comment on this newfound passion. Enter Twitter dot com, which I had only joined the year prior to the pandemic and hadn’t really figured out. I set about deciding on a handle to replace the algorithmically determined default, which is difficult when you’re basically the last person on earth to join Twitter. After some time, I settled on a suitable moniker, one that describes me well and somehow hadn’t been snatched up. I started live-tweeting Metro Council meetings and ranting about whatever local political failure was pissing me off that day, and to my great surprise, people seemed to like what I had to say. So I kept watching MNN, and I kept tweeting, and I’ve grown a small but mighty following of mostly wonderful people who want our city to succeed, even if we don’t always agree on the best way to get there. 

Nashville Twitter has laid the foundation for real-life friendships with beautiful people who care about the same things I do — which is great, because I get to bypass that whole awkward what-should-we-talk-about situation. The semi-anonymity allows me to express myself without feeling as exposed as I would IRL. And I’ve even gained the confidence to shut people down. It took me a while to learn how cathartic it is to block someone who’s made it their mission to shit on everything you like. But I got there, and that’s been big for me too. 

Is my social anxiety cured? No. I think it’s something I’ll have to manage for the rest of my life. But thanks to Twitter and a lifetime supply of Metro meetings in the queue, my social life feels about as full as it ever has. And I’d call that a win.

Note: This is not a paid ad for Twitter. But if they want to pay me, they know where to find me.