It was an unqualified success. Nobody looked down their nose about where I lived, which surprised me. And there were lots of people. I remember thinking I would be lucky to get six. In fact, we got to just shy of twenty. The party really took off when D.S. suggested removing the coffee table from the living room. (Next time we’ll start without it.)
The only thing was, it did wind down kind of early, because people were driving / had to work the next day / were taking the bus home. I think next time more people will come prepared to crash and we’ll squeeze out a few extra hours.
I was really happy to have held this party – I’ve always wanted to have one since my friend Joe’s epic party of long ago. It was on a much smaller scale, sure, but it had that same aura of speciality. Some of his guests said it was the best party they’d ever been to. One of mine said the same thing.
In fact, it was a much more fulfilling achievement than getting a 97 on my chemistry mid-term, because this way I was making other people happy, too. I also felt validated by the fact that people liked my hastily-thrown-together playlist! (I’d been scoring ridiculously low on “Who Has the Best Taste in Music?” in Facebook’s Compare People application, which prompted me to specify in the party information that I was not known for my taste in music. I’d sure like to reverse that trend.)
There was so much going on in a few short hours that I neglected to do most of the activities / diversions planned. The party just morphed into its own self-sustaining rhythm, and it did so early on. Also adding a welcome anchor to the real world was the most important hockey game of the decade, which I maddeningly only saw five minutes of, but at least everyone will remember where they were when the Penguins won the Cup. =)
Now, as for the next night, picture the puffed up balloon of ego blinding my eyes, such that I inevitably walk into a spike-lined wall and pop it. To make a long story short, I forgot that when a friend invites me to a birthday party, they want *me* at the party, not whatever personality experiment I may be trying that has the prime effect of turning me into an arrogant blowhard. (This may actually work for some guys, but for me it's been the experience of a walrus performing ballet.) If I can’t find a happy medium (or, as would have been appropriate in this case, a happy tenth), I really ought not to be attempting this kind of thing at all. I may just be better off with sincerity – especially with my friends! What was I thinking? (Only about myself, it seems.)
As to the broader implications from that question, I’m going to have to kick them down the road a piece. For now, let’s be happy we survived this crazy weekend.