Last night’s plan was to meet at An Poitin Stil and have dinner while enjoying the festivities. So I arrived shortly after 7, only to find that parking was VIP Only. Keep in mind this is an Irish pub, not a club, and it’s outside Baltimore city proper. Ah, but it was St. Patrick’s day…

So the guards informed me that I could park at the light rail station. I did so, and then picked the wrong route to take back to the pub. After walking two miles or so in my least comfortable shoes, I finally got there, to find avivahg emerging from a solid press of people. It was 7:45 at this point, she had been there for over an hour, hadn’t gotten near a table, and wanted to go home. I told her I had just walked two miles to get there, and she asked me why I hadn’t taken the bus. Seems one small detail the guys at the gate had left out was that there was a bus ferrying people to and from the parking lot. I leave my reaction at this point to your imagination.

I had mixed feelings at this point – I wanted to drink, and eat, and celebrate, dammit! On the other hand, the idea of being squashed between hundreds of beer-chugging college kids was a bit off-putting. In the end, I never made it in the door, and we went home and enjoyed beer and snacks and TV. Yay.

I don’t envy avivahg‘s position. When I married her I warned her that I lead a quiet, sedate existence; that I was not a party animal by any stretch, and preferred a night at home with a good friend and a movie to spending a night on the town. While this is still true of me, the sad secret was, when I met her I’d never even had the opportunity to enjoy a wild night on the town. I was the typical insecure dweeb, poo-pooing things I was too scared to try. Since getting married I’ve come to find that I enjoy going out to clubs and meeting new people (although I’m still painfully shy). I’m not quite as insecure as I used to be – it’s not so much that I’ve become a smooth socialite, as that I’ve ceased to care how much of a dork people think I am. Meanwhile, avivahg is dragged back into a life she thought she was leaving behind.

I prefer like a night spent in cozy quarters with a few close friends, good drink, and good food to just about anything else. But my horizons are expanduing, and I’m becoming acutely aware of what I missed out on while I was busy being boring and responsible during my highschool/college years. Not that I want to find out what it’s like to puke up a half-gallon of cheep bear on some guy’s nacho-covered carpet and wake up the next morning with no idea where I left my pants. But looking back, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a single proper party. I’ve gone to a lot of church pot-lucks, had some intimate birthdays with family and close friends, hung out at a lot of local concerts. Just once, I’d like to be at an honest-to-god party with lots of people, drink enough to lose my antisocial shell, play stupid games, talk to strangers about indy movies, make a fool of myself dancing, and when I take a walk outside around 4AM to clear my head, realize that I’ve been having, *gasp*, a good time with people for a period of hours.

I know. Pathetic, isn’t it?

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  1. You’re in luck – I’m having a party tomorrow!

    1. Heh… moments after I wrote that I thought “hey, aren’t I going to a party this weekend?”. Fortuitous.

      1. Let me know if you need direx or whatnot from PA….

        1. I’d appreciate that, actually. Also, around what time is it starting?

          And is it still cool if we crash no the floor for the night?

          1. Hi gotta make this quick since I’veonly got 3 minutes til trainign starts again, but yes, crash space still available, starts at 9 pm, and look in my previous LJ entries for general direx and info.

            I can give you more detailed info after the class ends…..!

  2. Ariel could sympathize. She’s at a stage of her life when she wants to be more social and partygoing, and she’s met me who doesn’t. The fact that I will be lying low for the next couple of weeks, big time, is going to be a test for us. I have hopes of our survival. But it is much too soon to offer advice.

    One possible solution we are already investigating is to try to cultivate mutual friends who are interested in partying some of the time and being quiet and introverted and sedate some of the time, allowing us to know we will get that side of us succored at some point or another. Again, too early to tell. I’ve also been up front with Ariel about the fact that if she wants to go off dancing and I don’t, it’s fine with me, provided we both know how seriously I take fidelity. However, if we had kids, it would be a different story.

    1. Going out dancing without the one you love is tough. At least, it is for me, for a number of reasons. I miss her. It’s wierd doing fun stuff without her around. It’s scary not having at least one gauranteed conversation partner. I know that despite being intellectually ok with it, she feels emotionally abandoned whenever I go. Part of my self-assurance derives simply from having her around, so it’s harder for me to relax and have a good time. It’s a long drive to and from the clubs, at least 45 minutes, and so it’s nice to have someone to talk to, especially late at night when I’m trying to stay awake.

      For all these reasons and more, I often choose to stay home rather than go without her, even when she says it’s fine with her if I go. We have a long way to go on this…

  3. don’t stop the dance

    being social is fun
    even better with some verbal laxative (alcohol etc.)
    i’m glad you guys are having some good times
    i enjoy being with a small group, as well
    –it’s good to be able to talk about anything
    parties & clubs can be so shallow..


  4. If you ever need a friend to escape life… come find me..

    it doesnt mean life has to be bad… just for a safe, comfortable, young, dancing place.. I can be there for you…

    im so tired I make little sense…

  5. As you well know, I’m not a party-goer and I’m about as boring as it gets. But do you know what? I honestly don’t feel like I’ve missed out on anything. Just my 2 cents.

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