I hate social functions. There, I said it. I think I have always hated social functions.
I think anybody with a lick of common sense should hate social functions. But maybe that’s just me.
I hate them because they challenge me and stress me out. I think they challenge and stress out everybody, or at least those with the aforementioned ‘lick of common sense.’
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not antisocial. I love (some) people and am happy to be in their company. As it stands I’m heading out in a half hour to have lunch with a dear (and did I mention ‘pretty’?) friend of mine and am looking forward to it since we haven’t linked up over nosh for a while.
Should be nice. And there is the crux of the matter, it will be a case of a deux, No confusion when there are just two people. Just me and her making chat and enjoying a meal. Ideal. In similar context, my wife an I can have another couple for dinner or meet them somewhere, and that’s nice too and with a minimum of stress. In that context though, there remains a problem if they come to our place because you can’t just tell them to leave if they seem to be overstaying their welcome. You cannot just up and say: “Well, it’s getting late so could you folks just bugger off now?” Better to go to theirs because then you can say: “Gee, is that really the time? How did it get to be 9:30 already?”
The social functions that really put nits under my skin are parties. I hate parties. I have always hated parties. I mean, I have been to lots of them and have hosted lots of them (in years past, not latterly), and I have concluded I always hated them.
Last night, watching Mad Men, we were presented with a party hosted by Don Draper’s comely wife. Don was tense at it. He reflected my feelings because just watching the party scene made me tense, I’d rather watch a gunfight any time. No, I’d feel uptight as people were boozing, passing joints (“aren’t we fuckin’ cool, man?), hitting on people they shouldn’t, and it brought me to the conclusion that a lot of people are tense at parties, and even angry. This is why they drink too much, smoke dope when they don’t normally, hit on people they aren’t hitched to, and even sometimes get into fistfights or nasty verbal exchanges.
I had a dear (now departed) uncle who once said: “In my opinion the only reason to go to a party is to get drunk or get laid. And if I can’t do those things I’d rather stay home and read a book.”
At one time I used to drink. Some might have even been driven to say, “Too much.” Booze, as per my uncle, made parties tolerable. Since I no longer do that has rendered parties much less tolerable. In that context the best parties were the ones I attended when I was young, had lots of stamina and libido and was blessedly single. Then I could hope to link up with somebody special and, in the ugly cliche, ‘get lucky.’ Sometimes it even happened. And, since I was young and had founts of energy, I didn’t much suffer from the rigors the next day.
Those days have long since fled and I don’t have an ounce of regret that partying has left me in its wake.
Now I have that book I want to finish before turning in at a reasonable hour only to awaken the next morning feeling refreshed and contented.
Call me a stick-in-the-mud and I don’t care at all.