Fear and Loathing

I was at a party recently. Well, it wasn't a party. I mean we weren't celebrating anything and there was no trend toward debauchery that I could detect - who knows what happened after we left; maybe all the husbands dropped trou and paraded around bouncing their dongs; but my sense was that this was not the crowd for that.

What this was was a suburban or rather exurban wine and pot luck hors devores get together in a local McMansion (are we still allowed to call them that? I haven't really used the term post [de]recession and I haven't been spending a lot of time with the envious-of-the-affluent crowd so I'm not up on the latest derision). Many of the women were dressed in what I assume is the latest fuck-me attire: very tight, very long legged, stretchy denim like things with layered sparkly and diaphanous tops. Conversation amongst the moms was kid focused and wandered around the edges of their surreal universe.

I don't know what the men talked about because I was hiding in the bathroom

Actually there were two bathrooms, both of them the powder room variety, on the 1st floor. I wouldn't  know this except that, when I wasn't in the bathroom playing Angry Birds on my Itouch, I was wandering around the house checking out the art (numbered prints of the motel generic variety) and the furniture (early Pottery Barn), or hanging around the fringe of the male conversational  enclaves, not picking up anything. Lurking, in a word.

So, I hung out in one of the bathrooms for 20 minutes or so - I had to limit myself; many of the women had been drinking for a while, were laughing a lot and I had no idea how dedicated they were to their Kegel workouts. So when I found the second one in my wanders, back off the mudroom, I was delighted and spent a good 30 - 35 minutes there.

But, you know, Angry Bird gets old after a while and the toilet top seat was not padded and I have an ass that consists of skin and bone (I never know, is that too much information?) so I ventured out once more. Fortunately, I ran into my 5 year old daughter - it was a you-can-bring-the-kids party, where they get installed in the enormous finished basement and are left alone, until someone smells smoke.

Hannah wanted me to help her with something so I accompanied her to the basement. And finally felt like I had found somewhere I belonged. We played with the Diego stuff for a while then moved on for a few other things, until the other kids started to look at me like I was at the school yard fence with a trench coat pulled tight around me. So I left.

I mean it felt good there, but I try not to creep people out. Kids in particular, I feel like I owe them some normalcy in adult form. God knows it's in short supply at home.

Not that I'm normal exactly. I just haven't forgotten how a kid sees the world. 'Cause I still see it that way.

Anyway... All that was said to say, or rather ask, this: what the fuck is it with me and people?

I am fairly okay with them in singles or small crowds but I freaking hate parties. I usually hang on to my wife's sleeve and wander around pretending to listen, laughing when other people laugh, smiling and exclaiming when appropriate.

You should know that I have hearing loss in both of my ears - a left over from the college band days (the only thing left sadly, the guitarist killed himself in the 80's and I can't even come close to the high notes anymore.) It's an object to background thing and I just can't distinguish anything said with a lot of background noise - like, at a party.

So, I do not talk much, because then people with talk back and I have to ask them to repeat themselves - sometimes several times. It makes cocktail conversation fairly unpleasant.

But that is not really the reason. I just don't feel like I fit in at all. I mean look, this party was a grouping of midlevel executives and their stay at home (with some bit of creative entrepreneurship on the side) wives.

I am a stay at home dad, with a small consulting business working with non-profits. I am interested in history, anthropology, books, movies, politics, religion, foreign policy, cultural observation - you getting the drift here? Not kids, not the office, the field (pick one, I live near Hartford so for us it's mostly insurance) or sports. I used to stay up on the major sports happenings so that I wouldn't look like a complete loser, but I don't even do that any more.

It may seem that I am saying that I am concerned with weighty matters and these people are all superficial, but that's not it (well mostly). I'm a geek, a wonk, a dweeb. I am not ready for prime time.

And they don't have a place for the chess club at these affairs.

I have talked to some friends about my problems and they say they're not problems at all, that a lot of people don't like parties. I don't know.

Everybody I see is fairly comfortable at parties. But I guess I'm not seeing the ones who didn't come.

How do you meet other non party people if they don't go to parties? There is nothing in Craig's List for us. I know, I checked.

So, we're heading into high party season, and I am not ready. I don't drink (pretty much did my quota) or get high (ditto) and am unaware of any other lubricant that will facilitate the penetration of a dickhead into the party.

I need you non-party goers to do me a favor. Go to the parties this season. And look me up. I'll be in the bathroom.