glad I went
There was a Chanukah party tonight and I almost didn't go. A girl in my class invited me several weeks ago and I said sure at the time but then I really did not want to go tonight. It's not that it is the effort it takes to get a bit dressed up or anything, I'm not sure what it is, but it always happens: right before I should leave, I'm dressed even, I decide well maybe not...why not stay home where it is nice and comfortable? I don't really want to go anyway, right, I probably will have an awful time I'm convincing myself...and a lot of the time I never do get out the door. This time I did finally get out the door (an hour late, of course) and I had a really good time and was glad I went. And this was despite the fact that I only knew one person there (the hostess) and I don't really know her all that well. But I met a lot of really interesting people tonight. I shmoozed with the best of them. And I got to eat incredibly good sushi that was hand-made before my eyes, cheesecake that was to die for, and had some kahlua-and-somethingy drink that immediately made me a bit tipsy even though the bartender promised he was only putting in a little bit of alcohol. I promised myself when I left that I would just go and stay for a polite one hour and then make my escape. Well, 5 hours later I am just getting home.
And this always happens too: once I go I almost always have a really good time. So why isn't there some kind of learning curve here? You would think I would think to myself, wow there's a shindig tonight and I always have fun at these so yalla, let's go. But no. I feel angst, dread, a wish to avoid, avoid, avoid when there is absolutely no reason to feel that way.
Well, I have another party tomorrow night and I am going to look forward to it. And at this one I will at least know everyone and their dog (literally --they have several pooches that are generous with the smooches --hmm note to self, remember to wear slobber-proof outfit) .
On a different train of thought, what do people _do_ to be able to live in an incredible, big, two-bedroom-with-a(real)-fireplace, doorman building one block away from the Metropolitan Opera? Not to mention the catering that went into that party. R is in school and I think she is about 30. She had mentioned that her husband was a "bit" older but I wasn't expecting Methusala. He's pushing 65 if he's a day. And what on earth does the man do? Can I do it too? Lol.