When a party invitation arrives in the mail or your mailbox is your first reaction – “Oh my goodness I am overjoyed with the idea of a party and cannot wait to mix and mingle with people I both know and don’t?” Well then, you my friend, are a big fat fucking liar. Or, maybe it’s just me. Maybe the second I get invited to a party I’m the only one thinking, fuck, do I have to go? Who will I talk to? Who can I get to go with me? And of course the most hideous thoughts of all – what am I going to wear and why am I so fat. The holiday season is upon us and so are those damn party invitations. Don’t get me wrong – I love a party that constitutes a room full of people I know – it’s the other sixteen gabillion I hate. I’d like to chalk this up to an old curmudgeon type thing but quite frankly I’m pretty sure I came out of the womb this way. My first words were probably – “uch, do I have to go?” However, it has most definitely gotten worse over the years. There are many reasons behind my hatred of parties… I don’t drink, I actually feel shy around people I don’t know, I’m fat, I hate everyone, I do not like small talk, and I feel superior to almost everyone I meet. Last night I went to a party for my dear friend Victoria. She was having a birthday and she beat the shit out of cancer. Two very good reasons to celebrate. It was a great party and I met a ton of really nice people but the second I have to start talking to strangers my brain is so full of thoughts about what I’m saying and what they’re saying to me that I can’t focus and I feel dizzy. Maybe it’s the writer in me but if I could script this shit out before I go I’d feel so much better. That lull in a conversation you could drive a truck through is so painful to me I can actually hear the air die. Shit, did they notice I just killed a conversation? To be honest, I’m not all that good at big parties filled with a lot of people I know either. I am constantly at war with myself – should I be the talker or the talkee? Should I be entertaining or sit back and eat? Am I being looked at as a source of entertainment? Do you think I’m funny? When you say I look great do I really or did I look really bad the last time you saw me? Oh my god my head is filled with nonsense at all times it’s amazing I can breathe. And brrrrreeeeaaattthhheeee. Throw drunk people on top of this and it’s a wonder I don’t take my own life at other people’s parties. Why is talking to strangers such a hideous thought to me? Why am I so easily annoyed? Maybe I should start smoking pot or taking valium before I hit the party circuit or remove my inner judgy button because it is working overtime in these situations. Why can’t I just learn how to have fun? Maybe if I lay it all out on the table when I walk in – I can leave my issues at the welcome mat. So, here is my party mantra for the upcoming months. “Hi I’m Heidi. I’m old, single, and almost always ten to twelve pounds overweight. I’m a pretty funny writer though please don’t take that to mean that I’m going to crack jokes all night because the pressure is too much. I write a blog and if you read it I’m sorry I write so much about my vagina. If I find you boring I am going to make an excuse to use the bathroom or get something to eat. I am judging almost everything you say to me. I will talk about you later. I’m sorry.”
What do you think? Sound like a good ice breaker?