And of course, this is the time of year for parties. Today I have two -- although one is an "office party" and as far as I am concerned, that doesn't count. We had a different office party last week, and have a third this Friday, and one more that isn't until January, because, well, I don't know why. (I didn't plan the party -- if I don't like going to them, why would I plan one?) And I have one "real" party this evening. Real parties, of course, are more fun, because generally they are with people you choose to spend time with, as opposed to the people you have to spend time with.
When I was in college (and after I came out of the proverbial closet), I liked parties well enough. I would go to the big (gay) house parties with my friends and get drunk and make out with cute girls. It was fun. But then I outgrew getting drunk and making out with random cute girls, and I guess that's when I stopped going to parties. (Wow, I guess back then I was all about the booze and the chicks. Some would argue that I still am, but don't listen to those people.)
I thought this was going to be an introspective entry about how I'm getting more and more antisocial as I get older, and how therefore parties sometimes don't hold the appeal they once did. But the above paragraph makes me think that it really isn't some dark shadow on my psyche that makes me (sometimes) shun parties --- it's the lack of cheap booze and making out. When I was a kid (and too young for the booze, etc.) I didn't like parties. Now that I am too old for such foolishness (sob!) I tend to get nervous about parties. But in my socially acceptable university years, I was The Party Girl. This fact does not make me deep. This fact does not make me mysterious. This fact does not make me intriguing. This fact makes me CHEAP. Nothing like announcing to the entire Internet that you used to be an alcoholic chick who liked to hook up! How you like me now?
