Wednesday, January 03, 2007

I am not a social creature.

I don’t usually go to New Year’s Eve parties. I’m not all that keen on being around a lot of people I don’t really know for an extended period of time, listening to music I most likely won’t enjoy, gnawing on stale chips and bean dip and drinking warm Dr. Pepper simply because it’s there. I’m not a pessimist. I am a realist. For this very reason, I usually choose to sit at home on the Fourth of July, grill up one of my own hamburgers and watch what fireworks I can see from my window. It’s just easier that way.

For the ringing in of 2007, however, I inexplicably decided to partyhop. With my friend Chris in tow (and then Ram later on), I officially made it to two-and-a-half parties. And I feel a sense of accomplishment for having done so.

(The half consists of driving to two different party locations, noticing they were either dead or uninteresting or filled with video gamers by peeking in the front windows, then retreating before being spotted by anyone. Because we’d at least put in the drive time, I think it partially counts. I mean, we’d nearly committed.)

The first party was hosted by my friends Allison and Sam. I believe I’ve been invited every year they started having parties, though I’m almost certain I never attended a one. There were old friends and faces I saw and spoke with, though it seemed many were married and with children, which caused me to feel a bit out of my element. I masked my discomfort by hogging the spot by the chocolate fountain and dipping, well, everything within arm’s reach in it. When I ran out of sponge cake and strawberries, I used my fingers. When I ran out of fingers, we left.

The second party was just around the corner. It was hosted by Molly and those women attached to Molly. It had younger people in it and, as far as I could tell, no marrieds. It was also a lot more crowded. I think I’m getting worse at meeting new people the older I get, as I made a beeline towards those I knew and completely monopolized their time and space. I also wanted to leave after 10 minutes. As I said, I’m not much of a partygoer.

In fact, though I really thought a New Year’s kiss would be nice – they are the only freebie kisses of the year, after all, barring, oh, mistletoe and being deerunk – I talked myself out of initiating anything once the ball dropped (or once the new year hit, take your pick). Older you get, the more you worry yourself with possible repercussions. I did make a lot of eye contact, though, so that’s a bit like committing. If, you know, we used telepathy. Mostly, though, I was able to construct a protective wall of friends around my person. They kept the strangers out. Like freezer bags for people, they locked friendship in.

Once I decided to flee the scene to hit one final party (the ¼ of one that I really very nearly attended), I was stopped short at the door by someone I didn't’ know. She informed me that she had two pretty friends who hadn’t yet received New Year’s kisses. She even mentioned names, pointed them out and maybe even asked me for mine, I don’t quite recall. I mean, at that point, it felt like I was acting out some kind of dream scenario, so details got hazy. It’s one thing to be approached by pretty girls asking you to kiss them (though not entirely common), but quite another for them to hit a party with their own agent.

I quickly ascertained that their agent didn’t lie, at least. Both were attractive, both were smiling blondes and both kissed back when I pointed my lips in their directions (I blame the new sweater. Girls dig the sweater. I ought to send a ‘Thank You’ card to the GAP). This bodes well for the new year, I think. It could be a sign of how things are going to shape up. There’s a “good things come to those who partyhop” message to apply to this whole thing somewhere, I think. And to think I was all set to complain about there being no 7-layer dip, too. Now I think I’ll abstain from doing so.

Happy new year, people. No, really. I mean it. Get happy.

4 comments:

aisy said...

oh, you're the loose lips from new years i've been hearing about...

Dainon said...

Two kisses = loose lips? Really? Do you know how many times I talked myself out of going in for the kill? I answered a call ... I provided a service.

So there.

... said...

So... you're a callboy, then?

Cindy said...

Seven.