Breaking promises

Today I am doing something that I promised myself I would by no means never no way not in a million years do here. I am going to the Englisch Stammtisch. It's basically the town's English club; they gather at a restaurant, drink their German beers, and discuss world politics and literature and movie stars... in English. I didn't want to join because it feels somehow like selling out. I don't want to be the annoying American who wants to speak English all the time. I have put in my time, I have learned the language of the locals, now I want to meet them on their turf and make some friends! But... it just isn't happening that way. I am trying to get out into the community, to be active, to meet people. But this is not home -- the rules are different here. Sigh. Witness me changing my expectations, right here before your eyes (if you have a delicate stomach, you may need to look away). So, Stammtisch it is: the path of least resistance. At Stammtisch, the whole point is to converse with each other, in English (on my turf, so to speak) so you can't help but get to know the guy sitting across the table or the gal on your left. And at this point in my loneliness, that sounds really, really good, even if it is the easy way out. So I decide to swallow my stubbornness and go. I suspect I will even enjoy it. Perhaps a lot.