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