Party Fun

Don’t feel bad if I don’t come to your party. It’s not you. It’s the party.

Parties intimidate me. They are high-pressure, self-conscious-making, hide-by-the-punch-bowl events or rattle-like-talking-will-change-everything-and-no-one-will-notice-how-nervous-parties-make-you occasions. Going to a party for me is like a visit to the Serengeti. Parties are not my natural habitat. I don’t know what time is best for my species or where I belong in this picture. They are some sort of dis-reality.

I know plenty about the concept of parties from books I’ve read. Often I even know the people attending the party I'm at. Still, I become an alien within the context of that single word party. Actually I think many people do.

Call it a “get together.” Say that, “Some friends are coming over.” I might be all right. I might ask a few questions to make sure you’re not using a euphemism instead of the dreaded “p-word.” There’s a big difference between “Stop over for drinks,” and “Come to my party.” The difference is in what people expect and how they behave. It’s okay for us “to party.” Let’s just not officially have one.

When I get together with friends or meet for a drink, I figure we’ll have some good conversation and possibly eat. When I go to a party, the idea of fun rears it’s ugly head. I had fun at a party once. Well, I’m sure I must have. It’s just so hard to define what fun is that I can’t tell when I’m having it at a party—at least not always. Sometimes I don’t know I had fun until the day after it’s over. Fun’s a complicated, personal thing.

If I get to a party too early, the fun hasn’t started yet. I’m in the way, and everyone is looking at everyone else wondering what to talk about. I can almost hear people thinking, “Hey, where’s the fun that I came to have at this party?” It’s almost as if they are so busy looking for fun that people, who usually have great conversations with each other, can’t seem to find word one to say that doesn’t sound stiff and tired.

If I show up a little bit later, the fun may have started, but I might not recognize that’s what I’m seeing, because other folks’ fun might just look like people talking to me. What if I get there too late and the fun is already over? I could be standing around waiting for fun to start, and everyone else could start leaving.

Then there’s the even worse party experience. I have a great time and don’t really figure out how truly special it was until the next day or so.

Then I wish we could have the party all over again. But there’s no such thing as a “do over” on a great party. It’s hard enough to get a great party to even happen.

But a great evening with friends? They happen every time we're together.

My friends are such fun. I think I'll invite some over.

—me strauss Letting me be