On my way to a friend's wedding. I hate weddings. I hate all parties.
I'm the kind of person who, in the middle of getting dressed and putting on make-up, curls up in a corner and cries until the mascara is all over her face. Who suddenly hates her new dress and wishes fervently for a pair of worn jeans. Who swears under her breath all the way to the party and is tempted to just sneak into a pub on the way and hide until it's all over.
Once I get to the party, I can usually enjoy it. Or if not, at least sneer at it.
3 comments:
I dislike social occassions. But that's probably because I lack all social graces, or even the grace to hold myself together.
Hope you got to the wedding.
We are all peripheral party pensioners, PP.
I feel an insane desire to smash the nearest confectionery masterpiece onto the absurdly dignified faces nearest me. Not to forget, equally strong urges to gobble and belch.
I don't though. Too scared I suppose.
Is social discomfort a sign of lunacy?
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