If someone threw a surprise party for you, it would include…
honestly, a fair amount of confusion on my part. Any friend who knows me well, will hopefully know that I’m not really a fan of parties, surprise or otherwise. There’s a very good reason that I usually try to go away on my birthday. I’d much rather go off grid up a mountain, than have to feel obligated to answer messages as they come in. That is the opposite of relaxing.
Don’t get me wrong. I do appreciate the fact that many people take 30 seconds out of their day to write and wish me well. And that’s a million times preferable to calling (BV’s Oma is the lone exception to that rule). I do enjoy seeing friends, I’m not completely anti-social, but parties? No thanks. I am much more comfortable in a small group (less than six, I’d say), or one-on-one.
Part of it probably goes back to me having been a decidedly nerdy kid. Especially going into the preteen years it was pointed out to me more and more, and I always got the feeling that I was the butt of the joke. Sometimes it was in front of me, sometimes not. But I was never quite sure where I stood. And who wants to have a party if you’re not sure if anyone will come? Or if you’ll end up being the one locked out of the camper at the sleepover?
In other news, kids are giant assholes sometimes.
From that phase, I developed into a mostly sarcastic smart-ass teenager as a defense mechanism. I probably owe a fair few teachers apologies but those were rough years. We moved to our town when I was in second grade, but all of the above, plus a few other factors (a brain but total lack of athletic ability* leap to mind), equated to me never feeling like I really belonged.
That was a long time ago and thousands of miles away, but those feelings are hard to shake. On the plus side, I am incredibly comfortable on my own. I don’t always have to be in motion, or with friends. I see people when I want to see people, and that’s it. The fact that we’re on vacation, it’s 10:30 on a Friday night, and I’m writing about my dislike of parties while BV lounges in the bathtub? Seems pretty fitting, actually.
Editor’s Note: This is part of a 31-day challenge series for the month of May, in which I aim to spend at least 15 minutes writing about whatever strikes my fancy. Results may vary.