Alex and I went to a party a couple weeks ago. It was our first social outing since we moved to Denver. It was also one of our first social outings since we got married half a year ago because let’s be real– neither of us really like to leave the house and interact with other humans. So the stakes were high.
Alex knew the host of the party, but none of the other guests. We’d promised to bring a bottle of wine, which we did a great job of buying but a not-so-great job of actually bringing with us. This offered an opportunity for me to have an immediate ice breaker when I walked in the door.
“Hi! So great to meet you. We bought a bottle of wine but left it at home. So we’re probably just going to drink it by ourselves later tonight.”
A couple hours later– after drinking all the wine everyone else remembered to bring– I snuck off to use the restroom.
I felt like I was in some sort of cliche rom-com as I bent over the toilet, jiggling the handle and whispering frantically. “Flush, dammit. Just do this one thing for me, please.”
Everyone on Twitter was very helpful with their suggestions on how to fix a toilet but I knew that if I tried to move the massive potted plant sitting on top of it I would end up spilling dirt everywhere, which would combine with my unflushed pee, and that’s a situation even I can’t describe with fewer than 140 characters.
So I did what I do about most of my problems— which is nothing. I ninja’d my way out of the bathroom undetected and tried to play it off by immersing myself in a group of people standing around the kitchen. Someone had also shown up with a roasted turkey and it smelled amazing. I sauntered up behind Alex and pressed my body against his, putting my hand on his shoulder as I leaned in to take a whiff.
Except it wasn’t Alex.
The only thing worse than accidentally caressing a strange man is when you overly freak out about it to the point that everyone has to stop what they’re doing and reassure you that “No, it’s totally cool. We’ve all accidentally molested a stranger who doesn’t really look anything like our spouse. Don’t feel bad.”
I was trying really hard to act unaffected and like I didn’t want to crawl in a corner and die, so I started removing my clothing.
By the end of the night I’d figured out every single thing you’re not supposed to say or do while interacting with other humans who you actually might want to be friends with.
The following things should not be mentioned:
1. The fact you have not washed your hair in four days.
2. The fact this is the first time you’ve worn a bra in four days.
3. The fact you spent the entire afternoon learning the lyrics to a 90’s rap song.
Here are some examples of how NOT to answer basic questions:
Question: What do you do?
Answer That I Can Guarantee Doesn’t Work Out Well: “I am on the internet a lot.”
Accompanying behavior that doesn’t help: Jazz hands.
Question: What did you do before you moved here?
Answer That I Can Guarantee Doesn’t Work Out Well: “I worked with crazy people.”
Accompanying behavior that doesn’t help: Blank stare with dead eyes.
Question: Why did you move to Denver?
Answer That I Can Guarantee Doesn’t Work Out Well: “Everyone at home wanted to kill me.”
Accompanying behavior that doesn’t help: boss nod.
Thankfully, like most things, it all worked out in the end.
Do you embarrass yourself at parties? Have you ever mistaken someone else for your significant other? What do you try NOT to mention in conversation?
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