As an introvert, I find parties hard.
Some parties are easier than others. Small gatherings don't count. Work Christmas parties are the worst. Anything big and noisy where the alcohol is flowing, the music is blaring and things have a tendency to get out of control is somewhere I don't want to be.
Most other parties I'll turn up later, generally after spending an hour or so procrastinating about going, arrive late, find a quiet spot, often out with the barbeque, or with the smokers, or under the clothesline.
Part of me wants to turn up in my Hoody, which reads ‘Sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come’.Lots of introverts have this T-shirt or some other garment with this slogan displayed.
Last night I went to a party. EJ was having a retirement party. He's been like a little kid for weeks about this. He's also painted the house, sorted out the garden, you name it, he's done it around the house. It was explained that I'd probably turn up, say hello, skulk off to the quiet room and do the jigsaw for an hour (Lots of neurospicy people were going - he thought a quiet room would be a good idea) and then skedaddle as soon as the speeches were done. Fronting up was mandatory, after all, he's been my work husband for years.
Last night, I got ready. But what do you wear to a party? This wasn't a backyard barbeque. Do I dress up? And if I dress up, then what do I wear? Or dress down? Is this a jeans and a nice top affair, or should I wear a dress? Also, the weather being feral, my summer frocks were out of the question. I ended up changing twice before settling on a comfy dress, leggings and boots.
I arrived on time, parking the car around the corner. I met some other people going in. They asked if I was going to the old folks' party. Yes, I was.
We were greeted by a security bloke. Security? At a retirement party. It was explained that there had been a lot of home burglaries in the area in the last few months - the guy was there to stop obvious gatecrashers.
Parties have changed in the last forty years. No keg. Decent food. You can hear yourself speak - and hear others talking. It was also lovely to catch up with some old workmates. On of EJ's friends, who he hadn't seen since high school turned up with his wife. She and I went on the French writer's retreat two years ago. Seeing her was a highlight. Also getting to meet EJ's daughter, who's his pride and joy, for the first time.
And there were speeches, and a band, which EJ got up and sang with (he was a part of this band at one stage - and they were pretty good.)
Then there was cake. Good cake. Not a Coles mud cake - not that there's anything wrong with that.
At 11 p.m. as the crowd was thinning and the feet hurting, I said my goodbyes and left. Two hours after my expected exit time. And I didn't do any of the jigsaw. I'm not sure anybody did. The food was too good, though EJ and his wife will be eating pizza until the Rapture comes.
Who knew that grown up parties could be fun?
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