The party season

The party season is here.

Words that make my heart sink… It’s always been that way, but I’ve always been made to feel kind of inferior for thinking the way I do!
I’m not a party person, never have been. I’d much rather be in a small group of friends than in a noisy, busy party place..

Now that I’ve reached a certain age I am much more honest with people about the fact I don’t like parties. As a younger woman, I always felt the pressure put on me to go partying and always felt the need to make excuses not to go. Now I am confident enough in myself to just say no thanks.

But over the years I’ve had to put up with lots of comments about me being unsociable, a party pooper, spoilsport, misery, etc,etc….
But why?
I don’t call people silly names for wanting to party. Don’t say, you pisshead, drunken hooligan, etc, etc. I admire the fact that they enjoy going to parties. Envy it sometimes. But always I’m pleased for them. So why can’t they just accept that I don’t want to go and leave it at that? I’m much more likely to be a party pooper if I’m actually there.

I’m sure that friends try to get me to go for the best of motives. They are sure I will enjoy it once there and once I’ve ‘let my hair down’. They think it will do me good, I will have loads of fun…

But parties are the loneliest place to be. I just don’t get how everyone has such a good time. I know I’m kind of odd, but what is the fun in being in a huge crowd of drunken people you can’t talk to because the music is too loud and they are are too drunk; all dancing to things like achey breaky heart! I don’t dance well, my social conversation skills are not great at the best of times, so why would I want to put myself in that situation?
Yet they still try to get me to go.

Then there are the meals out at Christmas.
The ‘girls’ always have a night out in Cockermouth. So either I have to drive, meaning I can’t drink or I have to get a lift with one of the other two people from Keswick and wait for them to get me home. Don’t get me wrong, I like all the girls. At work. But as soon as we hit the bar, everything changes. If I’m driving, everyone gets drunk while I watch the, getting sillier. If I’m not driving I get drunk too, but find the conversation hard as its always about partners, children, makeup or clothes…
None of which I have enough experience of to comment!

The other meal it is for managers and partners. Now how am I meant to go to that one? I’ve been occasionally and it’s a nightmare. Do you know how it feels to be the only single person in a room full of couples? Dreadful.

And it means I usually end up driving there myself, not drinking and having to make my entrance on my own!

So I make a plea if you are my friend and you want me to come to your Christmas party. PLEASE don’t invite me šŸ™‚

I really am happier just going home, taking the dog for a walk or getting stuck into a painting…

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