Don’t you just hate people who were born to party,
the ones floating around, charmingly chatting away with everybody, drink in
hand, while laughing, smiling and seemingly having a great time? I enjoy being
social, I enjoy conversing and I can smile rather charmingly while downing a
few adult beverages. But unfortunately, I can’t do all those things at the same
time to make me a wild & crazy party animal (sigh).
A party, the gathering of people invited by a host
or hostess or both, has the purpose of socializing in a recreational setting, which
can involve beverages, food, music and (my least favorite) dancing. We have
many reasons to party; some I will not mention here because I think my Mother
is reading this blog…
We have birthday, bachelor and bachelorette parties;
surprise, dinner and cocktail parties; non-political tea parties; dance, block
and costume parties; Xmas, graduation and housewarming parties; wedding,
divorce and farewell parties; and the list is long. Some party for no reason –
other than to party…
I’m a fun kind of person; I chat with people all
over the place, including elevators; I can make people laugh (even without
taking my clothes off) and for the most part I thoroughly enjoy smaller dinner
parties for two (the ones with my wife, of course) but real party-wise, I feel
most comfortable with 4 to 8 people; more than that and I get lost.
The reason? I like conversation that has a bit of
meat on it – something that makes me wake up the next morning with “interesting
evening” on my mind. But don’t get me wrong, because FUN is so essential to everything
I do in life. The meaty part of dinner dialog MUST have a bit of FUN sprinkled
on it; and to me, that works a lot better in smaller groups.
The times I was invited to bigger parties, I always felt
unsure of what was going on, how these big things actually functioned. There would
be a lot of people I didn’t know and a few I did. I cannot do the ‘small-talk’
thing, as it seems a superficial, nervous and an insecure way of communication;
a feeling that makes me uncomfortable. I can start fun conversations with just
about anybody anywhere, other than at big parties; so perhaps I’m superficial,
nervous and insecure? Nah…
Back in the days of early adolescent party-time,
which had dreaded added peer pressure, I would quickly end up against a kitchen
wall, nurturing a beer, next to somebody looking as uncomfortable as I felt.
Funny thing is that many times I actually had some great conversations with
these fellow kitchen wall-flowers, females as well as males.
Bigger party situations don’t give me the
stimulation I get from small gatherings. Too much time is wasted explaining in
a very loud voice into an ear I have never met before, how I know the host and
hostess. And after my intense moments of screaming, it’s my ear’s turn to be
screamed at; you tell me, where’s the fun in that?
I also have a thing about noise, the mixture of chatter,
music and other loud party sounds. In those environments I struggle concentrating
on basic conversation and especially anything deeper than “Dancing with the
Stars”. I’m simply lost. But this is not a complaint at all; it’s just that perhaps
I would like to be more of a party animal – experience a lot more stimulation
from those bigger gatherings.
I met my wife at a BBQ party; I guess we could call
it a party – so of course that’s the best party I have ever been to (and we
just celebrated our 29th year of marriage). But there is another party that
stands out, and thinking about it makes me smile, sigh and giggle – every time.
I must have been 13-14 years old. A classmate of
mine had a secret costume-party, and
I was invited. “Secret” was because
you had to dress in a costume where nobody would be able to guess it was you. My
Mother helped me create an awesome clown costume; it was cool & clowny
& extremely secret. Only a
couple of my friends figured out it was me – mainly because I told them. Those
were the years of insecurities, anxieties and me being awkward and shy; but hiding
behind a cool clown, made me feel wonderfully secure. But still, I quickly found
a comfy-chair and a nurturing beer.
The house was full of great secret costumes, loud
noises, music, dancing and decorations, laughter and fun. It was by the latter
part of the party that all of a sudden a funky looking ballerina landed on my
lap – just like that. As I had never experienced a landing ballerina before, the
surprise was intriguing – in a very good way, I quickly found out.
She had a very pretty ballerina-like body, but her
face was maked-up so well that I did not recognize who she was – and I
desperately wanted to know. I asked her several times, but she laughed and said
NO in her made-up secret voice.
She had put her arms around my neck and we started
to chat, now both in secret made-up voices – and we actually laughed a lot. Oh,
and then we kissed; I was a true gentleman, as during the kissing part I
removed my nose. It was the first time I kissed a ballerina sitting on my lap.
After about 20 minutes she got up; her father was there to take her home, she
said – and she was gone.
Back in school the following Monday I tried hard to
find out who she was; nobody knew, or wouldn’t tell me. During the last recess
that day, I was sitting on a bench pouting and feeling depressed when a made-up
voice asked: “can I sit on your lap today?” I looked up and there was Jytte
Knudsen, the girl none of us boys dared approach because she had always seemed
so beyond us. Jytte was a beautiful girl and in that respect intimidating to a
shy and insecure boy like me (and all my friends).
She sat down next to me and started chatting away,
about the party, the many fun costumes and that ‘clown’ she had had her eyes on
for many weeks – I realized she meant me. As the bell sounded, she grabbed my
hand and we walked towards the school entrance, very together – in retrospect,
I floated more than I walked.
Jytte and I were together for about a year, which at
that age was like being married forever. She was very intelligent, had a quick
wit and was a lot of fun being around. I can’t remember why it ended; I wonder
how Jytte’s life has been.
I do not condemn big parties, as my option is to go
or not to go – if invited, of course. But I have never been that perfect party-animal
that I envy to some extent. Am I willing to learn? Nah, I’m happy where I am
party-wise. But when you invite me to your next big party, I will come, because
I’m sure you have a kitchen-wall I can lean against; and then you can easily
find me so you can scream into my ear for a few moments and then I’ll scream
into yours – party on, Peter…
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