You thought I made a friend, didn’t you? Nope! I assure you – I’m still 100 % friend free, just the way you like me. No added sugar or preservatives.
Adrian has a friend, however, and it was this friend who invited me to his house party. By “invited me” I mean Adrian was invited to bring a plus one.
The first excuse I thought of was:
“I’m sorry. I’ve got fleas.”
It sounds ridiculous, but that’s why it’s so perfect. No one would suspect that a person actually made up having fleas to get out of a going to a party. The “I’m washing my hair” excuse is so 1950s.
Picture is from http://animals.howstuffworks.com/insects/flea.htm
“Yeah, Sara’s spent so much time at the local animal shelter trying to get kittens and puppies a home in time for Christmas that she was really unfortunate and caught fleas off the incoming strays. She should be OK in a couple weeks, but probably you shouldn’t ask her about it because she’s really embarrassed and doesn’t want people to misunderstand and think she’s just dirty.”
People say I should attend parties and such so that I can meet people. But honestly, have you ever met anyone at a party that you actually wanted to talk to for more than 5 minutes, or at all? It’s not that I dislike people or have a bad time (usually), it’s that it’s mentally exhausting having to make so much conversation and all I get from it is being tired and headachey on the weekend.
When I’m with Mulder and Scully I might not have a friend, but I feel fantastic on the weekend!
You might be confused because I regularly say I prefer house parties over going to a bar, a few reasons being that it’s cheaper and I don’t like to get beer sloshed on me by “funny” drunk people. I’m adamantly against house parties where I don’t know anyone except one or two people. There is no way out.
I’ll come back to this point in a second.
The other night I met Adrian and his work friends for a drink in Shoreditch, London’s area for people who are “hip,” “artsy” or “cool.” Generally you need big framed glasses, ripped up/dirty skinny jeans and some mismatched vintage clothing to truly fit in.
Things were going well. We were talking, laughing, drinking our drinks, and then Adrian dropped the bomb on me.
“I have to go to the toilet. I’ll be right back.”
My heart stopped a little. I’d be all alone. I panicked. The two people we were with started talking about something in which I had no way to add anything to the conversation. Adrian was gone.
I looked at my wine glass and tried to act interested in the way wine looks in a glass. I looked at other people, trying to seem cool and casual.
“This doesn’t bother me. I’m cool. I’m just hanging out in a bar, with other people who are hanging out in a bar.”
My face started to get really hot from fear and embarrassment.
“Maybe I should just go to the bathroom too. I can stand in the privacy of the stall and drink my wine, Lindsay Lohan Mean Girls style.”
At this point the girl noticed I was looking rather pathetic and asked me how my job was going. I put on my game face and started acting cool again, like I wasn’t just considering drinking my wine alone on the toilet. Then Adrian came back. Whew!
Back to my earlier point. At a house party there is no escape. I wouldn’t have the option of backing out of awkwardness. If I went to the bathroom for 10 minutes people would think I was laying down a steamer and that would be even worse!
“Who was that spectacled girl Adrian brought to the party last night?”
“Who, steamer chick?”
“Yeah, is that his wife?”
Despite all of this I’ll go to the party, because as I learned from Tammy Wynette, you’ve got to stand by your man. After all, he’s just a man.
Could this video get any creepier?