Saturday, February 03, 2007

The Things We Do (for the ones we love or really want to impress)

I'm not really into going out to parties. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've had a good time at a party. The fault most likely is with me: I'm just not a social creature. Sure, I have friends, and I like to hang out, but parties aren't much fun for me. Maybe I have a social phobia--although I have performed on stage and love that adrenaline rush from performing or having the spotlight on me. I like to go dancing, and it doesn't get much more social than to be glued to a person for the length of a song, trying to make that silly small-talk that you'll never remember.

So why don't I like going out to parties? I relate it back to 5th grade. A friend invited me to her birthday party. The other ten girls at the party ganged up on me while I was sleeping and put make-up on me, rolled me inside my sleeping bag, soaked and froze my underwear from my bag, and otherwise teased and tormented me until my mother came to pick me up the next morning. Until college, this was the only sleep-over I attended.

I'm not totally against drinking, and I do drink occasionally (read: once a month or less). Parties have always seemed like an excuse to drink as much as possible. People swap binge-night tales and play games to get drunk. I'm not a nice drunk, and alcohol does not lower my inhibitions. People try to get me to drink at parties. They offer a sip of this or a bottle of that... they say that there is an alcohol for everyone. I've not found something I couldn't live without.

The point of this background information: last night, I went to a party with my boyfriend. Chris really wanted to see his friends, and he also wanted to introduce me to them. While I don't mind hanging on his arm all night, I'd rather be introduced in a situation where I'm comfortable. I knew exactly two people at the party: my boyfriend and Jeff. Chris wandered off for a minute to talk to a friend and one of the hosts walked up to Jeff and me (the two of us hanging out talking on the edge of the crowd). I'm not sure if the host was drunk or just an ass, but his comments were less than flattering. Once Jeff left, I tried my best to look approachable and chat with some girls... Chris and I danced a little bit, but there wasn't enough room to do anything. He polished off a bottle of wine in the three hours we were there, so I drove us home (so very thankful to be out of the drunken crowd).

My question to myself, then, is "why did I go?" Did I go to impress my boyfriend? Did I go to prove to myself that not all parties are scary and bad? Did I go to be a part of a crowd? Did I go to be social?

I don't know.

The things we do for the ones we love...

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