I knew, when I agreed to come, what kind of party this would be.
A woman sees a dog toy lying on the floor and stage-whispers to the host, "why did you leave your bedroom toys lying around?"
Cue hysterical giggle from everyone.
Bailey's and wine from a box, heavy innuendo in every joke, sexting with somebody else's boyfriend, poking fun at someone's religious views. The men are middle-aged bachelors or divorcées, nice and mellow gentlemen who observe with bemused amusement and quietly drink their beer. The women are wasted, forcing the men to dance on the livingroom floor, squeezing each others private parts just for fun, falling over. They are not old but not young either, just the right age to question their life path and feel their age and compensate for their anguish with wildness. And make the most of the night.
A bit like me. The only way to survive and enjoy a party like this is to get drunk. But I'm driving, so I can't.
This is not my scene. So why did I come here?
Because it's been too long since a party like this. Because I needed to get my cool boots on and leave the house and be swept into the unknown, losing control. Because I want to experience something different, want to hear crazy things said in complete seriousness, like "nullification is a blemish" and "I need to write my will NOW!" Because there are people here that can tell me things I never knew before.
Because the host, not very drunk at all, shows me his marvellous art collection. No innuendo here at all.
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