Fish Out of Water

I went to one of those parties last week. The kind that you're supposed to enjoy, but I never really have. Loud music as soon as you get in the door, tons of people standing around with drinks in their hands, semi-dim lighting. I always feel outclassed and uncool the moment I walk in.

The goal of the evening is to mingle and have good conversations with people. Sometimes you can get into conversation over the snack table, saying, "Ooh, these are really good," (even though they're usually not - you have to pretend enthusiasm) and if you manage to catch anyone's eye you can say, "So how do you know [host]?" You have to lean over and shout in people's ears. Usually I'm hoarse after a few exchanges and everyone says "What?" to everything I say (which is torture if you have to repeat things that were failed attempts to be funny or else just non-sequitors that are going to make even less sense the second time around). After a while my smile feels frozen to my face. I'm in perpetual terror that someone is going to say that line I first heard at a junior high dance, and many times since, "So, are you having a good time?" (Variation: "How come you're not dancing?") It's impossible to answer because if you say eagerly, "Yes!" it's obvious that you're lying, because you were just standing there and how could you have been having a good time standing there by yourself? But if you shrug or say no, the person will think you're some kind of outcast, or say, "Why not?" Because cool people enjoy those parties.

There's nothing to do except drift from room to room, trying to look purposeful like you're trying to find someone in particular, or go back and forth between the snacks and the porch simply because motion is better than scared-rabbit stillness. If you're "circulating," people are less likely to accuse you of not having a good time. Sometimes you can hang out on the periphery of a conversation and try to chime in with a comment, but if they all ignore the comment then that's the signal to move on.

The kind of party I like is much smaller, like 6 people instead of 150, and it takes place in a single warm room with places for everyone to sit. There's a single conversation that roams over lots of different topics, and some kind of joint activity like a board game or a bunch of puppies in the middle of the floor, so you can fill in those moments when you have nothing to say with activity. The activity is vital, it gives purpose, and it gives you something to talk with other people about. The Victorians had the right idea with their parlor games. I wonder why it is that those kinds of parties are out of style now.