Confessions from Super Bowl Sunday
Monday, February 4, 2008
It's rare that one has epiphanies during the Super Bowl. But hey...anything can happen.
It's less of an epiphany than a confession, I suppose. Something I feel the need to recognize and accept. Something I want to own and not apologize for. Something I need to say out loud.
I don't like big parties. And I said it out loud yesterday. In the middle of a Super Bowl party with about 70 people. J to the K people. J to the K. But I did say it to myself. And I decided to own it.
I'm social. I love being with people. I love to go out and I love to have fun. So I've been sort of baffled by this aspect of myself since I moved to Los Angeles. NYC isn't a city of big parties simply because there's not much room. The only big parties I ever went to in New York were opening night parties and Tony award parties and I was throwing them and it was my job to know everyone in the room. Other than that, there weren't big parties where you'd wander through hallways looking for faces of people that you knew. There were no hallways to wander through that were longer than 5 or 6 feet. I had dance parties with my two fabulous roommates, Randy and Patrick in our Perry Street Apartment. Those parties consisted of a whopping 3. I had weekly catchup parties with Sharon - either at her apartment or across the street at Bar Veloce. I went to Super Bowl parties at Kelly and Amanda's (where I, incidentally, was so comfortable that I fell asleep on the couch through the entire Janet Jackson fiasco in the pre-tivo days.) I spent many an evening singing "Against All Odds" at karaoke parties at Winnie's in Chinatown. I had book club and supper club and social gatherings galore. My mid-20's were the years of "where should I have my birthday party" and we'd email conference until we came up with a suitably cool and hip and fun location that wouldn't be so crowded that our friends wouldn't be able to get in. I went to plenty of parties in my NYC years.
But none of these were parties. Not like LA does parties. And yes, yes...I'm sure you're right if you're saying NYC does parties like this too. They just take place in massive clubs with red velvet ropes that no one in their right mind would want to go to. In LA, they deceivingly take place in people's homes making you believe that they will feel more intimate and that you will actually know the people inhabiting the party. But I almost never do except for the few people that I go with. I spend the hours before secretly dreading the party and trying to figure out reasons why I should NOT attend the party and instead, should spend the evening curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and a good book, a good friend, or my husband. But I always go because "I should" and then there I am, at some huge party that's often loud, often either too hot or too cold, often too crowded, and generally offers little to no sitting space for relaxing. And I find myself feeling anything but social as I scream to my equally big-party dis-inclined girlfriend, "WHY DID WE COME HERE INSTEAD OF STAYING AT YOUR PLACE AND DRINKING GOOD RED WINE AND PLAYING SCRABBLE OR CELEBRITY???" as our significant others peruse the room being, well, social. Because, well, they like big parties.
So there - I've said it. I've admitted it out loud. I'm owning it. And it doesn't mean that I'm anti-social or even anti-party. I think it just means that I'm in my 30's. Wow.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 11:26 AM
Labels: daily, musings on life
I do the same thing with clubs. I don't know why I convince myself that paying out the nose for a drink, being squished like a sardine, having to scream to hold a conversation, and paying for this opportunity is a good thing...
I don't like huge parties either. I'd rather an intimate gathering and lots of alcohol. That's good enough for me.
(I'm cracking up because my verification letters are "xmenn". Hooray for being a nerd!)